Bryan Reed, writer

The Thermals' "When I Died"

2009-05-14T19:58:00.000-04:00

The Thermals' "When I Died"

Hutch Harris on rage, cynicism and the difference

13 MAY 2009 • by Bryan Reed

Listen up! Download The Thermals' "When I Died" (5.9 MB) or stream it below. If you cannot see the music player below, download the free Flash Player.

After releasing something of a mini-landmark with 2006's bitter, enraged The Body, The Blood, The Machine, Portland trio The Thermals found itself at a crossroads. Ultimately, they pursued in a new direction: It meant a switch from one stalwart indie label (Sub Pop) to another (Kill Rock Stars), and a transition from the vitriol of The Body, The Blood, The Machine, to a somewhat more hopeful tone on Now We Can See. A political parallel, perhaps?

"When I Died," the first cut from the new record, sets the stage for the band's rebirth, even as its speaker sleeps with the fishes. Elemental imagery and frontman Hutch Harris' rhythmic vocals are indeed holdovers from previous efforts, but the band sounds almost triumphant here, even as it launches into a chorus beginning with the phrase "When I died."

We caught up with Harris as he and his bandmates traveled by train through New York for an MTV filming in the midst of an East Coast tour.

INDEPENDENT WEEKLY: How did the song come to be?

HUTCH HARRIS: When I wrote The Body, The Blood, The Machine, I wrote "Here's Your Future" first, and that kind of opened this door where we said there are so many other places we could go with this. And then, I wrote "When We Were Alive" first, it seemed like a really good place to start writing from the perspective of people who are dead, or writing about life and the end of life. I just started writing most of the songs from that point of view.

Then, I guess on "When I Died" I was really thinking it's kind of a sequel to "Back To The Sea," from The Body, The Blood, The Machine, where you have the narrator who's sort of embarrassed to be part of the human race. He doesn't want to be a human anymore, so he sort of wants to de-evolve.

You have a narrator in "When I Died" who's the same as the one who wants to go back to the sea, but the arrogant side is that he thinks that that's something he can do. He doesn't think about the fact that you can't survive under the water and you can't just de-evolve into a fish because you want to. So you have someone that drowns to death.

It does seem that the band's imagery has been somewhat consistent. You talk a lot about the elements: air, earth, water. Did that start with The Body, The Blood, The Machine and just keep going?

Kathy and I go to the Oregon coast to write. We take all our gear up to this house and set up to write and record. It's a house on the coast, so we're near water and there's an influence.

With water there are always connotations of life, or with religious imagery—baptism and rebirth. And in this song there's a point where the narrator is sort of yanked back from the ocean. Is that some kind of resurrection, or a denial of his ability to, as you said, just devolve because he wants to?

I forget how we really got to that point in the story. It's not really a resurrection because it's more a way to show that the narrator was actually dying and not going to be able to actually be revived.

I've read a lot about this album having a more optimistic or hopeful outlook, especially when compared to The Body, The Blood, The Machine. I think the press materials used the term "cautious optimism."

Well, that's just what a lot of people have been saying about Obama. I mean, it is more optimistic than the last record, but I don't think it's so optimistic. I think it's still cynical, too.

Maybe more cynical than enraged?

Yeah, definitely. I think there's a healthy does of cynicism in everything that we do.

Do you think within punk rock, which is so often a very enraged genre, you seem to be broadening the emotional palate a little bit? Is that a deliberate thing?

A lot of what we do is very deliberate. And a lot of that is trying to get away from being just a punk band. It's very limiting. We hope with this record, people will think of it more of like a power-pop band.

It's been interesting because it's punk, but it doesn't fit a Warped Tour mold, which I guess could be a blessing and a curse when you're trying to sell records.

I guess. I mean, we've always thought of ourselves as a really simple rock band. I think the record's got a way in which the songs are more complex and the lyrics are more complex.

I think, too, you have a very distinctive vocal cadence, where when you hear a Thermals song you can recognize that immediately. It has that same sort of rhythmic bounce.

It's really recognizable, which is pretty much what bands try to do, just trying to find something that makes it new, and something that people can recognize instantly as being you.

Going back to the song, Thermals songs have always had an anthemic quality, but it seemed ironic to me to turn the phrase "When I Died" into this big triumphant chorus.

That's really funny to us. A lot of the point of the record is conquering your fear. And of course, death is big for so many people. "I Let It Go" is very similar, too, a lot of the songs are very similar, even "You Dissolve." It's just about celebrating death, or celebrating not being angry or afraid of it.

You're listening to the song, and there are all these images of death and the body being broken down, but it doesn't really sound, necessarily, like a bad thing.

At that point, it was just kind of funny to us, I think. Just to think about it.

With the label switch from Sub Pop to Kill Rock Stars, and this new record, it seems like there's a new outlook—even beyond what the songs are explicitly saying. It feels like The Thermals have been re-energized.

I would say so. I don't think we ever lost our energy, but we're definitely stoked right now.

Comparing this record with the one before it and with that rage turning into cynicism, the outlook's a little brighter, even if nothing's perfect. With the political climate meshing with the story of the band, how much of that was on your mind when writing this record?

Well, the world looks like a much better place right now. We're definitely glad to have Obama, but you know all the music and lyrics were written before Obama was elected. We knew we wouldn't have Bush, which was great, but we were thinking we might have McCain. So there was some hope, but it's very cynical, as well. We didn't know what we would be getting into.

So I guess maybe it's more that there's an opportunity for hope, but the outcome isn't clear?

Yeah, I guess so.

The Thermals plays Local 506 Thursday, May 14, at 9 p.m. Tickets are $10-$12, and Shaky Hands and Point Juncture, WA open.

Independent Weekly, 5/13/09

Holidays For Quince throws a block party

2009-05-14T19:56:00.000-04:00

Holidays For Quince throws a block party

Summer days

13 MAY 2009 • by Bryan Reed

Holidays For Quince Records—founded by record store clerks Jenks Miller, left, and Heather McEntire in 2005—outlasted the setting for this photo, the Chapel Hill location of Schoolkids Records.
Photo by David Winton

More than any other season, summer in the South demands activity. Spring's break pales to summer's vacation—sweating and swimming, planting and playing. And then there are the block parties of summer, community gatherings that pause to celebrate the bustle.

Chapel Hill record label Holidays For Quince has been summertime-active since its inception. In just two years, the label has released eight records, gathering a wide range of Triangle sounds, from The Curtains of Night's heavy metal to Violet Vector & the Lovely Lovelies' day-glo pop.

"It's definitely aimed at somehow fostering a very broad and rich identity for this region, musically," says Jenks Miller, one of two HFQ co-owners and a local musician who plays in a half-dozen area bands, including In the Year of the Pig and Horseback. "In order to do that, we're trying not to get hung up on genres and concentrating more on working with people that we know or we like, or music that seems important."

For Miller and co-founder Heather McEntire, this summer seemed like the perfect opportunity to pause and celebrate many of the forces that have driven the label. So, of course, they're throwing a summer block party that encapsulates a trifecta of accomplishment.

First, the Nightlight—the Rosemary Street venue that hosts the three-night affair, and at which both McEntire and Miller work—just earned its liquor license. Second, the label landed an exclusive distribution deal with Chicago Independent Distribution last month, making the label's catalog available nationwide. Third, HFQ has spread its roster to Richmond, signing singer/ songwriter Liza Kate and releasing her album, Don't Let the Dogs, at the block party. It's the label's eighth disc and first from an artist outside the Triangle. It only seemed appropriate to welcome her to the neighborhood, so to speak.

Kate actually isn't too far outside of the community the label has already built up. She and McEntire have been friends since sharing a house show in Virginia half a decade ago. Kate opened the show, playing her spare folk songs on a "little blue guitar" in front of a stack of loud rock bands. "It kind of took me aback how she could captivate that crowd," remembers McEntire, who was there with her own rock band, Bellafea.

The two kept in touch. McEntire encouraged Kate to put a second collection of songs to tape. Holidays For Quince wanted to release it. "I believe in her music so incredibly much, and it just seemed like a good fit," says McEntire. "And she's my friend so we didn't think too much about it."

Working through personal relationships has been HFQ's early calling card. "We definitely want to work local outward," says Miller, meaning the goal is to start as close to home as possible, and let their records and rosters grow slowly. To wit, the first HFQ release was an EP from Un Deux Trois, the pop band formed by McEntire and Miller. The label then issued releases by the heavy Caltrop and the monolithic Curtains of Night as well as the Technicolor pop-act Violet Vector and the Lovely Lovelies, all Chapel Hill acts.

"We've tried to focus on regional artists, and Liza is from Richmond," says Miller. "And while we'd still consider it regional, she hasn't had a lot of exposure here in Chapel Hill."

The Block Party is an effort to change that, and it's a reciprocal approach for the label: Just as Kate could benefit from exposure in the Triangle, its local artists could benefit by having a labelmate in another state.

That idea has paid off for some HFQ affiliates, who have already begun moving beyond their neighborhood niche. Miller's solo efforts, both under his own name and as Horseback, have sported an HFQ imprint, but the next Horseback LP, The Invisible Mountain, will be released by notable Wisconsin-based experimental label Utech Records. (Disclosure: The first record, Horseback's Impale Golden Horn, was co-released by Indy music editor Grayson Currin.) McEntire's Bellafea released its LP, Cavalcade, through Chicago-based indie label Southern Records. Violet Vector recently inked a deal with Kentucky's Colorwheel Records.

That its members have begun to spread out only makes it more important for the Block Party to serve as a reminder of the circle of friends a music scene can create. "[The bands] want to feel like they're a part of a supportive community," says Miller. "This is a way to demonstrate what we have. I think that's really important. It's sort of a positive feedback mechanism. It feels more whole when you can see what everyone's doing at once."

But the Block Party is far from a self-congratulatory showcase of Holidays For Quince's growth. Screaming Females, who play the last night, are from New Jersey and aren't part of HFQ's chattel. The same goes for Max Indian, Wizzerds of Rhyme and Embarrassing Fruits', locals who don't call HFQ home. Next month, though, HFQ's Liza Kate and Mount Moriah will play TRKFest, a day-long festival held in Pittsboro and curated by Trekky Records, Embarrassing Fruits' longtime label.

Trekky co-founder Will Hackney says the plan was to have Holidays For Quince bands on the TRKFest bill, regardless. That HFQ asked a Trekky band to play its Block Party is simply a bonus.

"We're all allies in that we're all basically going through the same process of putting out cool records and putting together good shows," Hackney says.

"It's important to not be competitive with [other] small labels, but encourage each other and give each other a pat on the back," agrees McEntire. "One small label can't put out all the bands here."

Holidays For Quince curates the HFQ Block Party at Nightlight Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights (May 15-17). Performing acts include HFQ's newest signing, Liza Kate, plus The Moaners, Caltrop, Bellafea, The Curtains of Night, Mount Moriah, Screaming Females, Max Indian and more. The shows start at 9:30 p.m. and cost $6 per night or $15 for a three-night pass.

Independent Weekly, 5/13/2009

The Grappling Hook's ...And Those Who Would Keep Us Safe

2009-05-14T19:55:00.001-04:00

The Grappling Hook's ...And Those Who Would Keep Us Safe

(Blastco Records)

29 APR 2009 • by Bryan Reed

With its precise balance of complex song structures and swift, fluid changes in tone and time, Durham's Grappling Hook is a band for a live audience. Fantastical battle hymns reforge power-metal glory with noisy indie rock and tough-guy blues-metal. Onstage, the tunes inspire high theatricality and comic-book suspense.

That has a lot to do with the shape-shifting way they're built: Just when the band settles into the mathy opening of "I Judge You Not O Juggernaut," for instance, it morphs into dry-throated hollering and sharp proto-metal riffs. But it'd be hard to place Grappling Hook reductively alongside metal revivalist peers in the local scene (Valient Thorr and Colossus being the most fitting comparisons). No, this is different and divergent, which is to be expected from Hook frontman Dave Bjorkback, who recently retired his superhero alter-ego The Torch Marauder. The Marauder's comedic, operatic songs were an oddball local favorite, but his propensity for grandiose vocals and dramatic rock flair aren't lost in this new Grappling Hook oeuvre.

"A Closing Fist Can Crush Your Heart" begins with the sort of belted-out proclamation ("Shadows form a deadly circle/ A closing fist can crush your heart/ Destroying all you know") one might expect to give way to a breakneck verse and a gigantic, Maiden-fashioned chorus. But it doesn't—at least not instantly. Instead, the intro leans into a gauzy verse, with humming organ and restrained drumming abetted by tinkling glockenspiel and muted guitars. But a minute and a quarter in, Bjorkback unleashes a piercing howl, a harbinger of the change that sweeps in to gratify the glorious metal tension that's been building.

Normally, such toying with structural expectations is a means for a band to move beyond its genre's trappings. But Grappling Hook never seems to be working within or without any given category, so much as it seems to be directing its energy toward an imagined roomful of people with beer cans clutched in their raised hands. These people are listening to Grappling Hook simply because it sounds good. Rightly so.

Grappling Hook plays with The Travesties and Monsonia at The Reservoir in Carrboro Friday, May 1. The 10 p.m. show is free. Grappling Hook also plays Saturday, May 9, at The Pinhook in Durham. Minor Stars and Le Weekend open.

Independent Weekly, 4/29/2009

Snoop Dogg preview

2009-05-14T18:36:00.000-04:00

Staff Pick Snoop Dogg w/ Knaan, The Hustle Boyz
When: Sat., May 16 Phone: (843) 853-3276
Price: (sold out)
www.snoopdogg.com

Since making his debut with a prominent role on Dr. Dre’s watershed The Chronic in 1992, and following that with his own Doggystyle in 1993, Snoop (Doggy) Dogg has been a marquee rapper. Beginning as the embodiment of West Coast gangsta rap’s second wave, sporting a Death Row imprint on his records, and marrying his syrupy (resin-y?) flow to Dre’s G-funk production, Snoop managed to make party records from tales of murder, mayhem, and misanthropy. But as his career has advanced, Snoop has ridden his pimpin’ aesthetic from fierce-but-funky to charmingly self-parodic roles (Huggy Bear in 2004’s Starsky & Hutch) and carefree detours in his music (the semi-ironic sex jam “Sensual Seduction” wound up a hit). Snoop, perhaps more than any other rapper, has stretched his longevity, turning the thug life, authentic and exaggerated, into a lucrative career as a bona fide (no pun intended?) pop star. Fo’ shizzle. 8 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Charleston City Paper 5/12/09

Metal legend Wino's silver lining

2009-05-14T18:33:00.001-04:00

Metal legend Wino's silver lining
Opportunity in the midst of tragedy
by Bryan Reed

A veteran figure in the world of underground metal, singer/guitarist Scott "Wino" Weinrich has slung his six-string for, most notably, the Obsessed and St. Vitus, but until early 2009, had never recorded under his own name. Then came Punctuated Equilibrium.

Flanked by Clutch drummer Jean-Paul Gaster and bassist Jon Blank (of Rezin), Wino assembled the stunning debut LP this year. It spotlights effortless musicianship, recasting '70s proto-metal as something new and exciting. It's heavy without being brutal, and smooth without being wimpy. It's the type of record that would sound at home on any classic rock station, sharing airtime with Black Sabbath, Blue Öyster Cult, and Led Zeppelin. Wino's leads cut ornate pathways through a hefty rhythm section, while his riffs stay simply effective and momentous.

During a recent stint in Europe, tragedy struck Wino's band. Wino described the sad situation like this: "With great sadness, I mourn the death of my brother and fellow bandmate Jon Blank who passed away unexpectedly this weekend. He will be greatly missed. I will continue as support for Clutch acoustic [as a solo acoustic act]."

Blank's death, of an apparent overdose, not only snuffed out his burgeoning talent, but cuts a big piece from Wino's band's musical mass. But it doesn't take away from the songs. Augmented greatly by their electric accoutrements, they're blues songs at their core. With Wino performing as a solo act, audiences could expect a new focus on the songs' simplicity and construction, less on the dazzle of Wino's dazzling electric leads and his rhythm section's barrel-chested heave-ho.

Even in the face of tragedy, Blank's untimely departure creates an opportunity for an even more intimate showcase of Wino's formidable talents, as well as providing a chance both for the musician and his audience to reconsider what it is that makes a good rock song. Stripped of their original context, the songs will have to stand on their own structure and conviction. Something they are entirely capable of doing. —Bryan Reed

Scott "Wino" Weinrich performs with Clutch and Maylene and the Sons of Disaster at the Music Farm (32 Ann St., 843-853-3276) on Tues. May 19. Doors open at 7 p.m. Tickets are available for $23, $20 (advance). Visit musicfarm.com and southernlord.com for more.

Charleston City Paper, 5/13/09

Alkaline Trio

2009-05-14T18:30:00.001-04:00

Alkaline Trio: 10 years to 'Agony'
Making Pop-punk Last
by Bryan Reed

Punk rarely rewards longevity. Many influential bands' entire careers — Operation Ivy, Minor Threat, and Rites of Spring, for example — can be condensed to one disc. It's not uncommon for a punk band to release one revered album, and for each subsequent release to be greeted with backlash from longtime fans demanding the purity of the early stuff.

Chicago's Alkaline Trio is no exception. The Trio's 1998 debut, Goddamnit, released on indie label Asian Man, is a lasting favorite, built on youthful (need we say, "punk?") abandon, clever songwriting, and a general bitterness that bridges the maturity gap with anti-cop rants ("Cop"), heavy crushes ("Clavicle"), and heavier drinking ("San Francisco"). Suffice it to say, it's the type of record people grew up to — the type of record that inspires kids to start bands, helps them deal with heartbreaks, and enhances the nursing of hangovers.

The same can't really be said of the Trio's latest, last year's Epic Records debut, Agony and Irony. Nor could it really be said that the latest is a departure for the band, whose particular brand of clever, dark pop-punk has grown ever smoother over the past decade.

Through a three-album stint on Vagrant Records, the band's focus shifted from rough-and-ready drunken pop-punk to a tighter, more melodically refined act newly obsessed with mortality. The blood-and-guts imagery that ran through the earliest songs stayed mostly intact, but was less blackout drunk messes and more Misfits-y murder and mayhem. With Crimson, the Trio's final indie-label LP, the band took an even denser approach to its arrangements, adding keys and strings for texture and donning a suit-and-tie aesthetic like fashion-forward undertakers. By all accounts the band was ready for its close-up.

The Alkaline Trio on tour now is a polished rock band with sharp hooks and a refined sensibility to its approach. Indeed, this is major-label rock, tight and bouncy, not unlike Green Day — another underground pop-punk band turned marquee act, thanks to embracing a bigger, more approachable sound. So maybe Alkaline Trio will be that rare once-punk band to last beyond the genre's built-in sell-by date.

Alkaline Trio plays with Saves the Day and Nightmare of You on Fri. May 8 at the Music Farm (32 Ann St., 843-577-6989). Doors open at 7 p.m. Admission is $21 ($18 in advance). See www.musicfarm.com and www.alkalinetrio.com for more.

Charleston Cty Paper, 5/6/2009

Againt Me! (again)

2009-05-14T18:26:00.003-04:00

Against Me!
New Brookland Tavern: Friday, May 1
BY BRYAN REED

Gainesville, Fla., punk outfit Against Me! begins its major-label debut, New Wave (released on Sire Records), with a declaration embedded in its title track: “We can be the bands we wanna hear / We can define our own generation.”

More than 30 years of punk rock is condensed to one couplet.

It’s that kind of thoughtful attention to lyrical songwriting that has proved constant through the band’s career.

“The lyrics have always been the most important part of music,” opines Against Me! frontman Tom Gabel, and fitting the sentiment espoused by “New Wave,” Gabel sets out to write the songs he wants to hear — or at least to avoid the type of songs he can’t stand.

“I don’t want to listen to something that’s mindless,” he says.

And mindless is hardly a valid descriptor for the Gainesville band, the songs of which have bridged the space between the personal and the political, meshing the narrative bent of folk with a political outspokenness born of both folk and punk.

New Wave, the band’s fourth studio full-length, covers the life of an unrepentant junkie (“Thrash Unreal”), the paradox of protest songs (“White People For Peace”) and globalization (“Americans Abroad”). But where a lesser songwriter would resort to bumper-sticker slogans, Gabel mines big-ticket themes from individual observations.

“At this point, doing this full-time, you kinda gotta be open to whatever inspiration comes your way and taking in everything you see,” Gabel says.

But his songwriting bent might be the only constant in Against Me!’s career. To date, (and counting only full-lengths) the band has moved from its ramshackle folk-punk debut, Reinventing Axl Rose, released by punk label No Idea Records, to two increasingly accessible LPs on NOFX’s Fat Wreck Chords (As the Eternal Cowboy and Searching For A Former Clarity). And then from the Fat Wreck days to the sonically condensed and rock-centric sound of New Wave on major label Sire (which punker-than-thou naysayers should be reminded was the imprint on all the Ramones records).

As is custom of beloved indie bands moving to bigger deals, Against Me!’s major-label jump (like those of The Replacements and Hüsker Dü) was greeted with some backlash.

But, says Gabel, it’s been a natural and organic transition in the band’s still-ascendant career.

“The labels we’ve worked with over the years have been the right labels for the size we were at the time,” he says. “[Working with Sire] afforded us a lot of opportunities that I don’t think we would have gotten elsewhere.”

Label politics aside, Against Me!’s ultimate goal, Gabel says, is as it has always been: “to keep improving and put on the best shows we can and make the best records we can.”

The sonic transition, though, has been perhaps more fluid than many long-time fans would be willing to admit. And with the same voice as its foundation, Against Me! is undeniably the same band whose early recordings helped it became the de facto figurehead of the early-‘00s folk-punk scene.

So even as Against Me! prepares its second major-label release (again enlisting Nirvana/Smashing Pumpkins producer Butch Vig to man the boards), the old adage stands true: the more things change the more they stay the same. Against Me! is still the band its members want to hear. As they’ve grown older, maybe the tastes have changed a little, but the philosophy is the same. And the band’s career arc has been decided as much by the legions of fans that have filled ever-growing venues across America and abroad as the band itself.

So, as Gabel nonchalantly asks, “If life took you to that place, why would you not want it? I’d just be happy if I were able to play music and support myself doing it.”

The New Brookland Tavern is located at 122 State St. in West Columbia. Off With Their Heads and Of Angels and Lions open. Doors open at 7 p.m.; admission is $10. Call 791-4413 or visit newbrooklandtavern.com for more information.

Free Times, 4/29/2009

Against Me! gets bigger and better

2009-04-23T14:01:00.002-04:00

Against Me! gets bigger and better

Riding a New Wave

by Bryan Reed

Against Me!
w/ Off With Their Heads, The 33's
Tues. April 28
8 p.m.
$10
Pour House
1977 Maybank Hwy.
(843) 571-4343
www.charlestonpourhouse.com
www.againstme.net

Against Me! has come a long way since a young, gravel-voiced Tom Gabel sang "Reinventing Axl Rose" on his band's debut EP, bashing the strings of his acoustic guitar like it could make him more sincere — aiming to "strike chords that cut like a knife/It would mean so much more than a ticket stub or a T-shirt."

The song — both in its acoustic context, and as the electrified title track of Against Me!'s first full-length — plays like a creed, a mission statement for the type of dirty anarchic ruffians that would form a band rooted equally in agit-folk and crust-punk. And it worked. Against Me! seems to have become the de facto figurehead for an entire scene of politically outspoken folk-punks (This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb, Andrew Jackson Jihad, et. al.) with Gainesville, Fla., as their Mecca.

So with such revered status in the underground, it's understandable that die-hard fans might have greeted New Wave, Against Me!'s Sire debut with skepticism and/or scorn. The punk-versus-major label argument gets a new chapter. And it's a circular argument in which nobody ever wins or loses.

Indeed, New Wave, sacrifices much of the raw, brittle spontaneity of Against Me!'s earliest recordings. But it doesn't come without precedent, either. The band's stint on Fat Wreck Chords — which resulted in two studio LPs, 2003's As the Eternal Cowboy and 2005's Searching for a Former Clarity — showed a steady evolution toward a more polished, but no less intense presentation. Those chords that once cut with a serrated blade now sliced more fluidly.

But with New Wave, Against Me!'s approach is not only more condensed, but almost void of the folk sounds on which the band built its reputation. Recorded by veteran producer and drummer Butch Vig, New Wave is a big-label rock record. No doubt.

But the confliction Gabel puts into his lyrics make it fit — perhaps awkwardly, but fit nonetheless. "Americans Abroad!" chases globalization through the eyes of an internationally touring band. Gabel sings with customary muscularity, "Here we are a rock band looking for new audiences/Wherever we go Coca-Cola's already been/We're Americans abroad! We're Americans abroad!/I just can't help but think there's a comparison/While I hope I'm not like them, I'm not so sure."

As he's done since the early days, Gabel is casting political commentary through personal experience. But where "Reinventing Axl Rose" played out with naïve confidence, "Americans Abroad!" casts a more jaded look at the affair. It's less hopeful, but only in that it's more realistic, swapping the righteousness of youth for adult observation.

It's easy to declare, "Baby, I'm an anarchist" when you're still playing basements and bookstores across an underground America. But Against Me! isn't playing house shows anymore, perhaps mostly because of the very legions of fans that would scorn their success.

Gabel sings as boldly as he ever has, on New Wave's title track, "We can be the bands we want to hear." That's what they're doing. And anybody who doesn't want to hear Against Me! anymore should know there's a Guitar Center on Rivers Avenue. You're invited to reinvent Tom Gabel.

Charleston City Paper, 4/22/09

8 Days A Week: Thursday, 4/16

2009-04-16T15:48:00.000-04:00

Raleigh
Magic Babies, The Huguenots

Tir Na Nog—Together, Raleigh's Magic Babies and Chapel Hill's Huguenots thoroughly mine the fertile grounds of British Invasion pop. Clean, guitar-led melodies and swoon-n-croon vocal harmonies drive the mod-ish pop of both bands. Where The Magic Babies add organ for a fuller sound, though, The Huguenots rely on wide-eyed earnestness, usually falling just on the right side of twee. But brandishing star-crossed love letters in the form of smooth, hooky three-minute gems without detachment or reluctance has long been the charm of these Merseybeat-disciple types, right? The free show starts at 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 4/15/09

Hearing Aid: Yes, Please

2009-04-16T15:46:00.000-04:00

04.18 RESIST NOT, STRAIGHT 8S @ THE CAVE
Durham's Resist Not boasts one of the year's best songs in "Choice Means Choice," a teen pregnancy parable told in the first-person. In it, Aaron Ward gives personality and empathy to hot-button issues, presenting social politics with the very specific life of one scared, young girl. Here, Ward's quartet of rabblerousers—more often irreverent than overtly political—promises to complement the revivalist rockabilly of Hillsborough's Straight 8s with its own rollick, rooted in anti-folk's spare sound and the clattering one-two of the Tennessee Three. 7:30 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 4/15/09

Persistance pays off for Shelby actor

2009-04-16T15:41:00.002-04:00

Published in The Shelby Star, March 26, 2009. Page 1B.

8 Days A Week

2009-04-08T14:42:00.000-04:00

Monday 4.06

1 APR 2009

Richard BacchusChapel HillRichard Bacchus and the Luckiest GirlsThe Cave—By distilling the swagger of his old band, D-Generation, into a smoother brew—less snot, more soul—Raleighite Richard Bacchus and his Luckiest Girls touch on New York Dolls' glam, Ramones' punk (Bacchus played in Sprokket with Dee Dee), Stones' blues and Cheap Trick's power-pop. Together, this sounds precisely how a now-adult ex-punk ought to: steady, sharp, just somewhat streamlined and refined. Raleigh hard rock outfits Burning Rays and Left on Cates open, but we'll admit that Bacchus' is the best band on the bill. Admission to the 10 p.m. show will run you $5. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 4/1/2009

Live: Viking Storm, pt. II: Prayers answered

2009-04-08T13:48:00.001-04:00

Live: Viking Storm, pt. II: Prayers answered
Bryan Reed · 5 Apr 2009, 10:40 AM · 1 Comment

Viking Storm, pt. II (Hammer No More The Fingers, The Future Kings of Nowhere, The Dry Heathens, Deleted Scenes, The Beast)
Duke Coffeehouse, Durham
Saturday, April 4

Hammer No More The Fingers could have been upstaged.

There was the matter of the 16-foot Viking warship—resting across the Duke Coffeehouse stage, adorned with shields representing each of the nine bands that comprised the Viking Storm lineup. Then there were the Future Kings of Nowhere, resurrected as a team of lanky (Minnesota) Vikings, purple jerseys and crisp white football pants included. And, of course, a Final Four victory for the Tar Heels.

But the night, as expected, belonged to Hammer. And the standard for album releases in the Triangle, as expected, was raised.

The set began and ended with a live rendition of Viking Storm’s power-metal theme song, all the more forceful for the menacing vocal contributions of Tooth’s J-Me Guptill. Not that Hammer needed any help, but when it came—from Guptill’s throat or Pneurotic Rich McLaughlin’s six-string—it was a complement, Hammer proving its command over the larger-than-life show hosted in honor of the band and its debut LP, Looking For Bruce.

But even in the two lengthy pauses in which bassist Duncan Webster and guitarist Joe Hall tuned their instruments, the dead air seemed intentional. Drummer Jeff Stickley filled in, doing his best Viking growl, and was greeted by warm laughter from the packed house, but it didn’t matter. The music was the highlight, as it should have been.

Fresh off a two-week tour, the band played as tight as it ever has, running through a shuffled version of Bruce’s tracklist, plus the unreleased “The Agency.” The crowd’s response: clapping and singing along from the middle of the mosh pit that brewed up halfway into the set. And it was a response earned by the band whose far-fetched idea to throw a two-night, Viking themed album release festival, had come to glorious reality, horned helmets and fur vests woven into the crowd and dominating the band’s on-stage attire—at least until it got too hot.

Indeed, the only force that seemed it might have been strong enough to upstage the headliner was The Future Kings of Nowhere, playing for the first time since announcing an indefinite hiatus in November. After four months of absence, FKON played as a lockstep sextet, borrowing members of The Drowsies to add horns, harmony and keys to Shayne O’Neill’s breakup anthems. The crowd, which by this point filled the venue comfortably, responded by singing every word back at the band as if the hiatus never happened. The knowledge that this could well be the last FKON show ever served only to heighten the urgency of the set.

But still, the show belonged to Hammer, who took FKON’s last-shot urgency and added explosive charisma and dramatic on-stage lighting for a definitive cap to the two-night local music bender.

Openers The Dry Heathens, Deleted Scenes and The Beast all played solid sets with plenty of their own highlights—The Beast’s funky hip-hop spin on the Viking Storm theme song, for one—but lingered in the long shadow of the night’s final act. Granted, that shadow shone like a spotlight, and was far from a bad place to be. The celebratory feeling began with the first drop of specially-brewed Viking ale and ended after 3 a.m. with the last handful of Viking warriors battling in the parking lot with foam weapons, emboldened by alcohol and a night of music they won’t soon forget.

Independent Weekly, Scan blog, 4/5/2009

Live: Viking Storm, pt. I: Tooth leaves an impression

2009-04-08T13:09:00.002-04:00

Live: Viking Storm, pt. I: Tooth leaves an impression
Bryan Reed · 4 Apr 2009, 12:41 PM · Comment

Viking Storm, pt. I (Tooth, Caverns, The Bronzed Chorus, Pink Flag)
The Pinhook, Durham
Friday, April 3

Mere observation be damned.

As Durham powerhouse Tooth packed itself onto the cramped Pinhook stage—rightfully headlining night one of Viking Storm—the band’s charged gallop churned every body, mine included, in the front half of the room to a flailing froth. It’s a testament to the band’s intensity and deep, cutting grooves that they could drive a room full of people to hurtle themselves at one another at a show where moshing had no precedent prior to the headliner’s set. Mere observation was impossible.

It’s a shame Tooth won’t be playing again until August. The band’s lunging sludge—lacerated by sharp leads and sutured back together with frontman J-Me Guptill’s demonic growls—ranks with the genre’s best and brightest active bands.

But Tooth’s was hardly the only noteworthy performance to come from the four-band bill. The night’s lineup moved smoothly, each band complementing the others despite a wide sonic palette. A chain mail-clad Pink Flag kicked off the show with a loose, carefree set of irreverent riot-pop, something like a noisier Bratmobile. Playing without any trace of pretense, the trio allowed its music to speak for itself, and even as the set lagged between songs it moved along and proved a solid opening.

The meat in the local-band sandwich, though, was a pair of instrumental acts—Greensboro’s Bronzed Chorus and D.C.’s Caverns—who both stretch the riff-based rock template into new and interesting directions. The Bronzed Chorus’ use of loop pedals is part of the duo’s larger-than-ought-to-be-possible sound, but the real key is the energy and urgency put into the songs, and their functioning as complete, melodic entities without the use of a vocal crutch.

Caverns, likewise, crafts concise, rocking songs, but theirs borrows less from post-rock and more from the close kinship of classical music and heavy metal. Classical piano forms the melodic focal point of the D.C. Trio, but guitar parts that alternately shred and bludgeon marry thick, frantic drumming to walk the line between hardcore and metal without feeling forced. Abrupt shifts and stops recall Fugazi’s dynamic, but that’s where the comparison ends.

Still, Tooth garnered the most physical response from the crowd, and in so doing, proved its ability to transcend its often disparaged genre, not by hyphenating it with some more-accessible nonsense, but by being really damn good at being a metal band.

Independent Weekly, Scan blog, 4/4/2009

The Thermals, Now We Can See

2009-04-08T13:01:00.003-04:00

The Thermals
Now We Can See
[Kill Rock Stars; 2009]

Styles: punk/indie

Others: Ted Leo + Pharmacists

Links: The Thermals - Kill Rock Stars

Last year, people voted for hope and won. This year, The Thermals follow up their acclaimed 2006 LP, The Body, The Blood, The Machine, a scathing, enraged political album, with Now We Can See and a new (cautiously) optimistic outlook.

The result is an exuberant, almost joyful record brimming with sly cynicism and a newfound fondness for whoa-oh refrains and handclaps. On “When I Was Afraid,” lead Thermal Hutch Harris says of his former fear, “Fear was mine/ Fear was by my side/ It kept well, hell it kept me alive.” He’s still addressing the same subject (Bush-era discontent), but here he sounds liberated. Similarly, opener “When I Died” sounds almost triumphant. Nods toward the preceding album filter in and out, recurring images of water, swimming, and marine life echo Harris’ invoking Noah on The Body, The Blood, The Machine. But as much as it can be read as a sequel, companion piece or counterpoint to its predecessor, Now We Can See is another singular effort from the Portland punks.

The rhythmic base is elastic, pogoing effortlessly (and more fittingly) behind Harris’ particular vocal cadence. He’s always had a way with wordplay, making it sound natural, even slight, while lodging his phrases deep in the listener’s mind, making addictive hooks of simple couplets. Vocally, Harris is declarative, proud and confident. It’s a change from the boiling-blood seething he displayed on The Body, The Blood, The Machine, but like the hopeful zeitgeist that seems to have inspired the record, it’s a welcome change.

For The Thermals, though, this is at least a turning point and at most the band’s finest moment. “At The Bottom Of The Sea” slows down, betraying the tenderness that was only hinted at on previous efforts. “You Dissolve” (again, with the water) caps off the album with energetic confidence, a Jerry Lee Lewis piano part plinking in the background and Harris offering a sardonic message of contentment: “It’s just another way you dissolve/ Into steam/ You dissolve/ Like a dream.”

1. When I Died
2. We Were Sick
3. I Let It Go
4. Now We Can See
5. At The Bottom Of The Sea
6. When We Were Alive
7. I Called Out Your Name
8. When I Was Afraid
9. Liquid In, Liquid Out
10. How We Fade
11. You Dissolve

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes

American Aquarium's music rocks with Bible-Belt vigor

2009-04-08T12:56:00.002-04:00

American Aquarium's music rocks with Bible-Belt vigor
Broken Hearts in Kicker Boots
by Bryan Reed

American Aquarium w/ Kentucky Shoes
Sat. April 11
9 p.m.
$8, $6/adv.
Pour House
1977 Maybank Hwy.
(843) 571-4343
www.charlestonpourhouse.com
www.myspace.com/americanaquarium

Pity the woman who breaks BJ Barham's heart. She'll probably end up in a song. Then the American Aquarium bandleader will sneer as he hisses her name into the microphone on any one of a thousand nights in any one of a thousand bars just like the one in which he probably met her.
He'll preface "Whore Song" — a live staple — with a sly comment. "I'm not bitter or anything, I swear," a pained smile curling his lip. "You fuck like a woman/But you love like a little girl" he'll accuse before launching into the chorus. "And I hope he breaks your heart/And I hope you cry all night/And I hope you feel like I do now."

His venom is convincingly pure. He sings like that very woman is in the back of the room smirking at him. His eyes narrow, welling up with bile and tenderness. He's nothing if not sincere.

And that sincerity — an echo of forbears like Bruce Springsteen, Jay Farrar, and Craig Finn — is a large part of American Aquarium's appeal. For the most part, the Raleigh-based band doesn't stray far from its thematic trinity: girls, God, and alcohol. But within its narrow scope, the band paints detailed portraits on a wide canvas, resulting in a universal resonance, helped more than a little by Barham's earnest intensity behind the microphone.

The band's new album, Dances for the Lonely, trades the whiskey-drenched country-rock dust-ups of 2008's The Bible and the Bottle for fuller, more colorful bar rock arrangements not too far removed from the Hold Steady. It also finds the quintet at its best, able to draw upon its back catalog's alt-country leanings, but flesh out the old ideas with new textures (like horns and pianos) and more completely mesh the band's rock and country tendencies.
Whether the band steps back to quietly complement a country ballad like "Downtown Girls" with a sad shuffle and softly weeping steel guitar, or ramping up a bar-room anthem like "Mary Mary," it sounds equally well suited for a dive bar, a stadium, or the best Chevy Trucks commercial never made.

Live, Barham can give his band a break, for a solo song borrowing plenty from all of Ryan Adams' heart-on-sleeve balladry and flashes of lyrical brilliance. Or with the band in tow, he can lead the room through shots of Uncle Tupelo's whiskey-drenched and gravel-worn country-rock and the Hold Steady's fists-raised bombast, making American Aquarium a versatile unit, and one that ought to strike a chord with anybody who's ever been drunk and/or heartbroken. Or about to be.

Sometime in the set, Barham will settle down. The bile in his throat will recede, and he'll remind you that love and lust isn't all pain. Maybe he'll crack a smile and head into "Clark Avenue," whose refrain gives The Bible and the Bottle its title. Jump blues piano trills and Telecaster crunch meets a blazing fiddle and a driving rhythm section. Barham's telling his story about meeting a "sexy as sin" redhead in double-time. "Her hand kept crawlin' up my thigh/She says, 'I don't do this with most guys,'" he boasts, surprised by his own luck. "My heart was racin' like an engine and dancin' like a Harlem queen."

Here's hoping — for her sake — she does him right.

Charleston City Paper, 4/8/2009

Hearing Aid

2009-04-08T12:51:00.001-04:00

YES, PLEASE

04.04 FREQUENC ROOTS/ ACOUSTIC JAMDOWN @ NIGHTLIGHT
Tonight offers an ode to American roots music through "historically relevant DJ sets" and live music paying homage to the blues and old-time American music. It kinda makes Pinche Gringo—the Greensboro duo whose garage-rock rattle evokes blues and rockabilly plenty, but hardly on account of acoustic guitars—seem the wild card. But ex-Spinn Josh Johnson's grimy guitar lines meander and swing like his Piedmont forebears. Virginia's Black Twigs pair hollerin' breakdowns and languid contemplative instrumentals, while Brooklynite soloist Feral Foster throws his Delta moan and bottleneck guitar into clean-cut pop melodies. Unnamed DJs drop deep blues cuts and lost soul into the wee hours. $5/ 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

04.08 AUXES VS. CHALLENGER @ LOCAL 506
Fronting his two-headed Auxes/ Challenger creation, this is more accurately Dave Laney vs. Dave Laney. In one (presumably longer than usual) set, Laney's band dips into the catalogs of both Challenger—Laney's early-'00s Chicago punk band—and Auxes, the more recent, more open-ended project which, ironically, would be the challenger were this an actual battle. Challenger's muscular shout-alongs offer a streamlined assault, striking head-on with the paired vocals of Laney and his Milemarker cohort Al Burian. Indeed, Challenger's got the strength. But Auxes' winding guitars and jittery rhythms offer a more nimble, more versatile approach. Looks like the audience wins. Boxbomb opens. Free/ 9 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 4/1/2009

VISITING ACT|Ryan Adams & The Cardinals

2009-03-27T09:49:00.001-04:00

MARCH 11, 2009
VISITING ACT Ryan Adams & The Cardinals
Turning Points: Ryan Adams does stuff 'n' shit
BY BRYAN REED

Today, David Ryan Adams will lead his Cardinals through a set at the Performing Arts Center. It might be one of his last. Or not. On Jan. 14, Adams announced his pending retirement from music on his blog. Referencing the current tour, Adams wrote, "I am excited to finish this wonderful time I have had with the Cardinals, and whatever new adventures may come after march. Atlanta will be my last venture with the band and I am grateful for the time we have had and maybe someday we will have more stories to tell together."
Expressing a sincere dissatisfaction with the life of a touring musician, addressing hearing issues, the hardship on personal relationships, and a fear of a damaged legacy, Adams offered only a slight glimpse of hope for his fans: "Maybe we will play again sometime and maybe I will work my way back into some kind of music situation, but this is the time for me to step back now."
Seven days later, the retirement announcement was deleted. The general assumption was that Adams changed his mind. It wouldn't be a first for the singer/songwriter, who since becoming an alt-country icon as the frontman of Whiskeytown more than 10 years ago, has carried a reputation for erratic behavior. Notorious bouts of stage fright and a constant stream of studio work have all became synonymous with his name.
But his latest album, 2008's Cardinology, (Lost Highway), the third to feature the Cardinals as his backing band, finds Adams seated into a comfortable groove. He seems solidified by the sobriety he found in time for 2007's Easy Tiger (Lost Highway). This Adams, at least in the studio, sounds more focused and comfortable, which results in some of his most consistent work, even if not always his most exciting. Still, the fact remains, when Adams hits it just right, his songs are close to genius caliber.
That potential for greatness is what's kept Adams' fans coming back time and again for every album and every show. It's probably a good thing it was that blog post, and not Adams' future music career, that was deleted.
Ryan Adams and the Cardinals perform at the North Charleston Performing Arts Center (5001 Coliseum Drive, 843-529-5050) on Wed. March 11 at 8:30 p.m. Tickets are $31. Visit www.coliseumpac.com and www.cardinology.com.

Charleston City Paper

2009-03-27T09:41:00.002-04:00

Elvis Perkins In Dearland

Elvis Perkins In Dearland
[XL; 2009]
Styles: rock/pop singer/songwriter

Others: Benjy Ferree, Van Morrison

Links: Elvis Perkins In Dearland - XL

Barring the obvious conclusion that, like so many discussions related to one’s appreciation of music, individual taste makes a concrete solution impossible, let’s ponder for a moment the importance of lyrics in pop songcraft. Granted, you’ve got your Darnielles, those whose verbose storytelling is the sole focal point no matter the sonic qualities. But in general, lyrics are shaded by our own impressions and interpretations, a misheard line becomes an existential dispute if left to fester too long and given too much gravity.

And what of the casual listen? What of the melodic or textural qualities that usually illicit the initial attraction? If lyrics form a song’s personality, is a good hook really no more substantial than a killer rack?

With his second LP, Elvis Perkins, an orphan to two of his era’s greatest tragedies — father Anthony Perkins (Norman Bates in Psycho) died of AIDS in 1992, and mother Berry Berenson, a photographer, died on 9/11 — keeps his pen trained on matters of finality. But you could figure that out by reading the tracklist. “Hours Last Stand.” “Doomsday.” “123 Goodbye.” You get the picture.

But, much like his 2007 debut, Ash Wednesday, Perkins speaks through characters and, more importantly, though his musical arrangements to present a nuanced approach to musing on mortality and loss and loneliness. And, given a tracklist and the instrumental takes, I’d imagine you’d get much the same message.

Album standout “Doomsday,” filled with vibrant horns and a barrel-chested oom-pah bass line, is a celebratory arrangement — celebratory like a New Orleans funeral. “Till Doomsday/Fiddle-Aye-Ay” boasts Perkins to a lover he’s forgotten. But simply by evoking a Dixieland jazz band’s lively eulogy, the message is solidified: finality isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The death of one thing is the birth of another. Lyrics are only a corroborative account. Same for “How’s Forever Been Baby,” a trudging shuffle, dirge-like in its languishing pace and spare ensemble. Piano, light drums, and acoustic guitar stagger along with the speaker. Occasional brass and harmonica evoke the blues. It gives Perkins the perfect soapbox from which to plead “How’s forever been, Baby?” This time he’s got his memory, and maybe this time he’s not so okay with losing someone, but again, the verses rely more on Perkins downcast croon than the actual words he’s crooning. The words don’t hurt. His images are masterfully placed and phrased. But the point’s not lost without them.

And maybe that’s the real mark of a good songwriter, when you can extract pieces without tumbling the tower, even though the combined effort of all those pieces all serve to strengthen the song. Nothing’s wasted, but all that’s necessary is the inspiration.

1. Shampoo

2. Hey

3. Hours Last Stand

4. I Heard Your Voice In Dresden

5. Send My Fond Regards To Lonelyville

6. I’ll Be Arriving

7. Chains, Chains, Chains

8. Doomsday

9. 123 Goodbye

10. How’s Forever Been Baby

by Bryan Reed

Tiy Mix Tapes

Butterflies' Nothing's Personal

2009-03-12T14:09:00.000-04:00

Butterflies' Nothing's Personal

(Trekky Records)

11 MAR 2009 • by Bryan Reed

"For you, I'll go and dig up my old roller-blades/ I'm taking off work for the weekend," Butterflies frontman Josh Kimbrough promises during "Relive Brielle," perhaps the best song on his band's Nothing's Personal. Musically, the song is uncharacteristic of the band, its electric charge proving an unexpected counterpoint to the rest of the album's acoustic shuffle. But thematically, it's the crux of what Butterflies is all about: small, simple gestures of friendship cast through a nostalgic filter.

Purportedly the product of Kimbrough's post-grad musings about lost friends, bands and freedom, Nothing's Personal proves to be a bittersweet collection that plays like a series of extremely personal notes: "Hang-Ups" tides its morose verses ("The words once music to your ears/ Have turned to daggers in your heart") into the album's most hopeful refrain: "You're gonna make it/ Whatever you do." The simplicity in the lyrics behooves Kimbrough, whose limited voice manages to express a very real sense of vulnerability and honesty. In fact, the album's biggest flaw comes from overdone arrangements, auxiliary instruments brought too far to the fore, where they intrude on Kimbrough's coming-of-age reflections. However, even this flaw is relative. An example: Robert Britt's fiddle—a frequent culprit—draws intricate and delightful melodies. Even as it oversteps, it engages.

Overall, though, Butterflies' latest aims for the heart and rarely misses. Kimbrough's songwriting is detailed but not obsessive, allowing the gauze of memory to soften his focus. In tandem with his voice, it gives the songs a welcome sense of sincerity and intimacy.

Butterflies headlines a free show at Local 506 Wednesday, March 18. Husband & Wife and Wes Phillips open.

Independent Weekly, 3/12/09

Live: Harvey Milk, "a baptism in tone and volume"

2009-03-12T14:01:00.001-04:00

Live: Harvey Milk, “a baptism in tone and volume”

Bryan Reed · 3 Mar 2009, 2:13 PM · Comment

Harvey Milk, Black Skies, Pontiak
Local 506, Chapel Hill
Friday, Feb. 27

Harvey Milk is a band to feel live more than see: Sure ,the unassuming trio, in its old jeans and novelty T-shirts (singer/guitarist Creston Spiers’ read “Lord of the Strings”), was animated and personable on stage Friday, cracking smiles and spreading surprising affability from its Local 506 pulpit.

Harvey Milk's Creston Spiers: Oh, Lord. (Photo: Bryan Reed)

But it was hardly a visual spectacle. Then the music started, and it became clear why Black Skies frontman Kevin Clark, amid a tuning break, hurried his bandmates along: “Come on, we’ve got a show to see.” His sentiment echoed that of a growing audience, all eager to hear Harvey Milk.

For a full hour, the Athens-born weird-metal institution trudged its way through a career-spanning set. A few hundred heads—all nodding involuntarily to the band’s deep, rumbling pulse—cast their eyes to the stage. Chests rattled with the force of the amplifiers. The tandem of Harvey Milk’s down-tuned, start-stop sturm und drang and frontman Creston Spiers’ cavernous moan mines blues and drone, creating an impossibly weighty sound, a baptism in tone and volume. Milk’s deliberate pacing and loud-quiet-silent-louder dynamic made its performance—save for cuts from The Pleaser, which Spiers declared “our rock album”—hard to describe as a rock show. The structural elements of the songs didn’t fit the norm. Still, the feeling was the same.

The tar-thick heaviness of Harvey Milk proved an ideal counterpoint to Pontiak, who opened. The Virginia trio’s psychedelic overtones lent a spaciousness and melodicism to its sludgy riffs without sacrificing heft.

Pontiak's Van Carney (Photo: Bryan Reed)

If Harvey Milk were a glacier, slow, monolithic and uncompromising, Pontiak proved the groundwater beneath it, more fluid and prone to directional shifts. Both, though, seemed to have developed organically from atavistic elements, existing seemingly as they would in any era.

The same could not be said of local openers Black Skies, whose midtempo heavy metal—something akin to High on Fire’s more straighforward material—offered plenty of glimpses at potential, but relied more on a highly kinetic stage presence from Clark. While certainly enjoyable, the set felt rushed and a bit misplaced.

Black Skies' Kevin Clark (Photo: Bryan Reed)

Independent Weekly's "Scan" music blog. 3/3/09

Album of the Month

2009-02-26T12:56:00.000-05:00

Whatever Brain's Soft Dick City cassette

(self-released)

25 FEB 2009 • by Bryan Reed

Listen up! If you cannot see the music player below, download the free Flash Player.
This month's Album of the Month is presented as one track, due to the cassette nature of its release. The track order is: 1. Dead Flowers (The Urinals) 2: Nesting 3: Mount Whatever 4: Eli C/O 2k5 5: Swhatever 6: What Happened to All the Destructionaires? 7: BOHD 8: Pyramids 9: Summer Jammin' 10: What Happened to All the Destructionaires?

Also reviewed:
Whatever Brains's Mt. Whatever 7"
(Bull City Records)

In the half-hour it takes to hear Whatever Brains' Soft Dick City—a spray-painted, cassette-only release bookended by a screeching Urinals cover and a Johnny Cash sound-collage sabotage—there's little question what this Raleigh quartet is about: This is a band that can't sit still. From The Urinals homage and the Johnny Cash sacrilege to the hooky-and-hissy space between, raw enthusiasm comes tied together with jagged and noisy interludes.

Within that jittery impatience and irreverent ruckus, witness a consistency of style that's not just uncommon but mostly unknown for such a new band. And Whatever Brains has done it twice now. Just as Soft Dick City feels spontaneous in its noise and spittle-lipped in its urgency, the subsequent Mt. Whatever 7" feels self-assured and somehow meticulous in its relative professionalism.

The three tracks that comprise Mt. Whatever—two of which, the title track and "Summer Jammin," are reprised from Soft Dick City—come out cleaner, which is to say less shrouded in feedback, but no less excitable. On the 7" version of "Mount Whatever," cooed vocal harmonies turn to roars behind Rich Ivey's snotty snarl (Ivey is a contributor to the Independent Weekly). Jagged guitars spike harder, but with less static. It sounds no less primal than on the tape, where a droning rumble cloaks the song, making it rough and rowdy. The no-fi charm and noise-fueled unification of Soft Dick City is exhilarating, but the same holds—just in different ways—for Mt. Whatever's half-polished fits. The tape trades undulating feedback and squelching electronics for the single's basic guitars-bass-drums setup. Neither suffers the exchange.

Taken together, these two releases—both issued on formats you may consider obsolete—are defiantly good but defiantly inaccessible for mass markets. Just 500 copies of a 7" and a handful of cassette tapes remain as the lone artifacts of the band's existence to date. This is the sort of sticky stuff that could be huge, though (we've called these Brains "Raleigh's best new band," and we'll echo that here). Collectors and early listeners are rewarded, then, with two very different but complementary releases, each of which keeps its best track—Soft Dick City's "Swhatever" and Mt. Whatever's b-side, "Crass Ringtones"—proprietary and isolated. This is the stuff from which anthems, legends and eBay auctions come.

What functions as a two-part debut shows Whatever Brains to be a band born fully formed, a more prickly and brash cousin to Ivey's defunct Crossed Eyes, but with a similar foundation on pop-structured punk. Indeed, it's Whatever Brains' greatest virtue that, behind the din of scorched amps, shattered chords and snot-rocket singing, there's a gooey bubblegum center charged with immediacy and drunken abandon.

Mt. Whatever has just been picked up by Matador's distribution wing, so get your hands on the vinyl now.

Hearing Aid

2009-02-26T12:52:00.001-05:00

YES, PLEASE

02.28 WAUMISS @ NIGHTLIGHT

The willfully scattershot sonics of Waumiss made the duo's self-titled LP a playful and engaging platter. Bits of dub and electronica pulse through psychedelic gauze and indie rock propulsion. Half-formed song structures keep things accessible, while allowing Clarque and Caroline Blomquist, Waumiss's core, to vary their textures—and the songs' direction—at a whim. In doing so, the pair creates an enticing, evolving sonic landscape that manages to be both fun and interesting. With Evil Wiener frontman Billy Sugarfix at 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Des Ark
Photo by Jeremy M. Lange

03.01 DES ARK, YARDWORK @ NIGHTLIGHT

Now boasting a sturdy three-piece lineup, Des Ark is at its most muscular yet. It's a hellride of unpredictability that purrs and sputters and roars in new and exciting directions, driven, as ever, by Aimee Argote and her twin selves: the heartbreaking songwriter and the caterwauling frontwoman—either of which could send most bands whimpering. Good thing, then, that the more-than-competent Yardwork—Charlotte's next-big-thing for a hot minute now—will take on support duties. The band's room-filling clatter recalls Akron/Family and an Afrobeat arkestra as fronted by ex-hardcore kids. Register opens at 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Sound Board

2009-02-26T12:51:00.000-05:00

Bleeding Through w/ Acacia Strain, As Blood Runs Black, Impending Doom

Sun., March 1.

Bleeding Through is yet another in a long line of metalcore bands worshipping at the altar of At The Gates, the Swedish band that literally created the template for bands melding death metal’s brutality with hardcore pacing and moody melodies. So why should we care about Bleeding Through? Short answer: they’re coming to town, and if the metalcore sound appeals to you, you might enjoy this. Consider the bulk of the genre to have the explosive power of Mentos and Diet Coke, which is to say it’s as momentarily impressive and ultimately innocuous as a geyser of Nutrasweetened cola. At its best, Bleeding Through bursts like a hand grenade, a tightly wound balance of keyboard gauze behind bludgeoning blast beats, squealing false harmonics and gruff hardcore vocals. At its worst, Bleeding Through is still as good as any other metalcore band. —Bryan Reed
$16, $13 (adv.), www.bleedingthrough.com.

Music Farm
32 Ann St., (Downtown)
(843) 853-3276
http://www.musicfarm.com

Charleston City Paper, 2/25/09

Hearing Aid

2009-02-18T23:21:00.000-05:00

YES, PLEASE

02.22 ICY DEMONS, WHATEVER BRAINS @ LOCAL 506

Chicago's Icy Demons bring its swinging pop—keyboards buoying bass grooves and electronic accents like a head-fucked bossa nova—to the marquee. But the real draw ought to be Raleigh natives Whatever Brains, whose frantic fuzz-punk lives and dies by in-the-red guitars, snotty vocals and undeniable pop hooks. The band kicked off the new year with the three-song Mt. Whatever 7-inch, the first release on the brand-spankin'-new Bull City Records label. Watch out for these Whatever Brains, literally and figuratively. $8/ 9:30 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 2/18/09

8 Days A Week

2009-02-18T23:16:00.002-05:00

Sunday 2.22

Chapel Hill
Dexter Romweber & The New Romans
The Cave—Drummer Dave Schmitt founded The New Romans as a vehicle for putting duo-veteran Dexter Romweber in front of a nonet. The band invoked Romweber's underlying love for surf-rock, '60s crooners and lounge music. Hazy keys and blankets of guitar reverb wash behind his growl. Saxophones bleat and moan. The music swings, slinks and seems to exist outside of time. Night Tide, released late last year, serves to document the band's rich retro-chic: rock 'n' roll with a balance of grooving instrumentals and charged shoulda-been-standards, meant for dancing in tight, dark bars. Pay $5 at 9 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 2/18/09

VISITING ACT | Michael Franti & Spearhead

2009-02-18T17:23:00.001-05:00

FEBRUARY 18, 2009

VISITING ACT | Michael Franti

Spearheading pop music globalization: Michael Franti & Spearhead's worldly reggae rocks

BY BRYAN REED

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The idealistic Michael Franti and his band return with a pile of grooves

For all its questionable authority, Wikipedia has a means of prioritizing facts such that the first sentence of any entry is often alarmingly telling. It's little wonder then that Michael Franti's entry begins thusly: "Michael Franti (born April 21, 1966, in Oakland) is an American poet, musician, and composer of African, American Indian, Irish, French, and German descent." This is telling in that the author of Franti's micro-biography deemed Franti's diverse ethnicity second in importance only to the most basic details of his career. He's a musician who is multiracial.

And indeed, Franti's multiculturalism has been his biggest selling point since the earliest days of his band Spearhead. The same image of worldliness and multicultural awareness remains the primary focus on Spearhead's latest, All Rebel Rockers. Recorded in Kingston, Jamaica, with famed reggae producers Sly & Robbie, All Rebel Rockers adopts reggae's deep bass grooves, syncopated staccato guitars, and lyrics that mesh spirituality with politics — owing to the Marley school of songwriting. And at times it comes off a bit forced. The pairing of "Rude Boys Back in Town" and "A Little Bit of Riddim" are so tied to reggae-specific imagery that it borders on stereotype — think Combat Rock, not Natty Dread. Still, Franti's lyrics place his beliefs and motivations into simple terms: "A little bit of riddim make the world go 'round," he chants through the chorus of "Rock with Me," "I'm a human being, y'all."

Franti's messages of global understanding and unity are stated in no uncertain terms. This is where Franti & Spearhead are at their most consistent: making easily digestible statements into idealistic manifestos. But deeper into the LP, the sloganeering and typecasting of earlier cuts gives way to a proper mélange of worldly sounds, and Franti gives the politics some breathing room. On the record, he sings a lot about the transformative powers of music. But it's when he doesn't have to sing about them that his message seems most believable.

Michael Franti & Spearhead share the bill with Cherine Anderson and Courtney John at the Music Farm (32 Ann St., 843-853-3276) on Sat, Feb. 21. 8 p.m. Admission is $25. Visit www.musicfarm.com and www.spearheadvibrations.com for more.

Charleston City Paper, 2/18/09

Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele

2009-02-18T17:13:00.000-05:00

02/18/2009

Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele

The Good Feeling Music of Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele

(Paw Tracks)

www.paw-tracks.com

Good feeling my ass. Sure, Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele deliver the charming, jangly crooner-pop replete with sunkissed steel guitar, easy shuffle sin the drumbeats and that ukulele, which, while perhaps something short of "magnificent" is at the very least pretty gosh-darn nice-sounding. And yeah, May himself delivers a warm kind of croon, something like a cheered-up Morrissey-even when he's a heartbroken troubadour as on the schmaltzy waltz "Girls On The Square," where he sings "The girls on the square make me blue/I always compare them with you." Indeed, May's lyrics are not so very good feeling at all. At one moment he's smiling to cover a wince, drinking to numb the pain on "I'm An Alcoholic," the next he's filled with schadenfreude, singing, "How does it feel to be nothing?/I wouldn't know" on "College Town Boy."

The Dent May proffering his so-called Good Feeling Music is a bit of a downer, a maudlin popsmith masquerading behind upbeat tunes evoking shallow, sentimentalist cheer like a sad clown intent on drawing laughter from his own undue misfortune. Maybe it's a coping mechanism or maybe it's a gimmick. It doesn't really matter. The Good Feeling Music of Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele does the job; it softens the blows we're dealt by attracting us, first with a chipper melody and then with the ability to point at the characters in the songs and remark, "Well, at least I'm not that guy." Sometimes that's the best medicine.

Standout Tracks: "College Town Boy," "Girls On The Square," BRYAN REED

Blurt, 2/18/09

P.O.S. - Never Better

2009-02-17T10:16:00.000-05:00

P.O.S.
Never Better

[Rhymesayers; 2009]

Styles: indie hip-hop
Others: Atmosphere, Cage
Links: P.O.S. - Rhymesayers

P.O.S. is a victim of misplaced marketing. Three records into his career, the Minnesotan MC still can’t shake the “grown-up punk” angle. Yeah, he also plays in a punk band. How revolutionary and interesting. And to think he can rap, too. Let’s never stop talking about how radical it is that one person might be into more than one style of music. And then, with the release of Never Better the angle is the packaging: an admittedly cool clear-plastic digipak with mix-and-match cover art. Nifty, but ultimately inconsequential. This halo of trivia that adorns his head only obscures what really matters: P.O.S. is good. Real good. His elastic flow slings alliterative rhymes and super-specific pop culture references (“Dufrane, party of four”), while he balances the swing and bludgeon of his beats with charisma and conviction.

Too often we’re tempted to erect a wall between hip-hop and rock, acting shocked when the two bump shoulders — as they do so effortlessly on Never Better — and pretending like Rick Rubin never had anything to do with Def Jam. No, this isn’t a rock record; it’s hip-hop to its very core. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t rock, either. It doesn’t mean P.O.S. can’t turn head-nods into headbangs or a sample into a riff. And still, whether or not P.O.S. grew up on Fugazi and Nas — both of whom he nods to on the record — is trivia. What matters is how the MC carries himself, which is chest-puffed, fists-clenched and tongue venomous. Images collide with narrative, filling songs with vibrancy. “Been Afraid” turns a broken home story into steely drama. “Purexed” drops its cleverest line — “hands steadily Purexed, but never quite clean” — like a manifesto, tying the song’s patchwork of visceral imagery into a bumper-sticker-sized slogan. Then comes the hook, like cavalry. We know P.O.S. isn’t happy with the world, but he’s gonna keep trying. Hope’s alive on Never Better, and it’s the glue that holds us together as the world beats down on us.

P.O.S. is still standing, though. Gruff voice buttressed by his own outsized conviction, these songs quiver with anger and fear and dynamism. We feel the rattles in the headphones; we hear the words in our heads and hearts and bodies. And when it’s over, what’s left? A long-player wrapped up in an admittedly cool clear-plastic digipak with mix-and-match cover art? Or a musical testament of life in 2009? Too often, we put the artist in the background. And that’s a damn shame. Don’t let it happen here.

1. Let It Rattle
2. Drumroll (We’re All Thirsty)
3. Savion Glover
4. Purexed
5. Graves (We Wrote The Book)
6. Goodbye
7. Get Smokes
8. Been Afraid
9. Low Light Low Life
10. The Basics (Alright)
11. Out of Category
12. Optimist (We Are Not For Them)
13. Terrorish
14. Never Better
15. The Brave And The Snake

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 2/17/09

Fol Chen - Part I: John Shade, Your Fortune's Made

2009-02-16T14:53:00.003-05:00

02/16/2009

Fol Chen

Part I: John Shade, Your Fortune’s Made

(Asthmatic Kitty)
www.asthmatickitty.com

Ambivalence is rarely a virtue in rock criticism. It hints at indifference more than bona fide confliction of ideas, two poles that in the case of Fol Chen might not be so very far apart. With Part I: John Shade, Your Fortune's Made, the debut release from the deliberately (and somewhat obnoxiously) enigmatic group, empty sonic mosaics offer mostly distraction with occasional memorable moments like the somewhat funky "No Wedding Cake" to bring in that element of critical confliction that leaves me enticed by the particular arrangement of sonic doo-dads-here, drum loops and synth blurps meet a squirmy guitar and layers of blank vocals--even if diving into it would be about as successful as doing likewise in a kiddie pool.

I'm not one to savor a concussion, though, so I'll be content to merely let the record pass on by, casually enjoying its colorful façade but ultimately unmoved. Pleasant and briefly interesting cuts like "Cable TV" save the record from utter mediocrity, and do indeed offer all the mindless "fun" of your standard bubblegum ditty-albeit with an ear more inclined toward Hot Chip and TV On The Radio than Britney and Timbaland. The listening experience is not wasted, but neither is it significantly rewarding, it just kind of is. I don't think I like this, but I don't hate it. I guess you could say I'm ambivalent. So sue me.

Standout Tracks: "No Wedding Cake," "Cable TV," BRYAN REED

Blurt Magazine, 2/16/09

Wino - Punctuated Equilibrium

2009-02-15T12:14:00.000-05:00

Wino
Punctuated Equilibrium

[Southern Lord; 2009]

Styles: blues-based hard rock
Others: Saint Vitus, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple
Links: Wino - Southern Lord

Branded as stoner metal’s guitar hero, Scott "Wino" Weinrich has a lot to live up to on the first album to bear his — and only his — name. Teamed up with producer J. Robbins, Clutch drummer Jean Paul Gaster, and Rezin’s Jon Blank on bass, those expectations only get bigger.

And largely, the former Obsessed and Saint Vitus centerpiece doesn’t disappoint; Punctuated Equilibrium is a riff-heavy and easy-to-listen-to platter of bluesy proto-metal. Wino’s guitar playing is so fluid, his riffs so naturally momentous that the technical heroics seem an afterthought or accident. We hear the effects of his fingers running hurdles on the fretboard, but it rarely comes off as flashy or ostentatious. It gives the record a feeling of classicism — as though you could (or should) hear Wino playing next to Deep Purple on an FM "classic rock" station. Here, though, decades of blues-based hard rock coalesce into a full-bodied force of hard rock purity that ought to run devoid of hyphenated modifiers (says the guy who in the same paragraph refers to this as "proto-metal"). Generally, the record is a consistent and concise platter of mid-tempo riffs and throaty vocals.

Only "Gods, Frauds, Neo-Cons and Demagogues" hinders that consistency, and in doing so becomes a disfiguring blemish on an otherwise good LP. Its political-commentary-via-soundbite approach doesn’t mesh all that well with the attempted atmospherics in Wino’s guitar backing. Ultimately, it comes off as dated and unnecessary, especially next to nine cuts each with its own singular identity within the album’s uniformly well-defined sonic template. Wino is best when he’s playing heavy, not heavy-handed. Save for the one glaring misstep, Punctuated Equilibrium doesn’t disappoint.

1. Release Me
2. Punctuated Equilibrium
3. The Woman in the Orange Pants
4. Smilin’ Road
5. Eyes of the Flesh
6. Wild Blue Yonder
7. Secret Realm Devotion
8. Water Crane
9. Gods, Frauds, Neo-Cons and Demagogues
10. Silver Lining

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 2/13/09

Benjy Ferree - Come Back To The Five And Dime Bobby Dee Bobby Dee

2009-02-12T12:12:00.001-05:00

Benjy Ferree
Come Back To The Five And Dime Bobby Dee Bobby Dee

[Domino; 2009]

Styles: rock ’n’ roll singer/songwriter
Others: Jack White, Elvis Costello
Links: Benjy Ferree - Domino

From the age of 6 to 16, Bobby Driscoll was one of the most acclaimed child actors of all time; his roles in a slew of Disney hits earned him the title of Disney’s "Golden Boy." Then he grew up, stopped being cute, and at the age of 31 was dead in an abandoned Manhattan tenement. Legend has it that his body went unidentified, leaving the Academy Award-winning former celebrity to be buried in an unmarked pauper’s grave.

Benjy Ferree, himself a failed actor, found inspiration in the story of Driscoll, turning it into a concept for his sophomore album, Come Back To The Five And Dime Bobby Dee Bobby Dee. And, sure enough, the cover features Ferree donning Driscoll’s character, a ’50s coif markered over Ferree’s own hair for the black and white portrait. But aside from the introductory track, "Tired of Being Good," and occasional references to "Peter Pan" (Driscoll’s final role for Disney), Driscoll is hardly an overt presence on the record — and for the better. Instead of harping on his muse, dragging a relatively simple — even if tragic — narrative on for 14 tracks, Ferree makes himself the star. Driscoll hangs more like a specter over the record, his tragedy snaking its tendrils into the songs as Ferree casts characters who, like Driscoll, are failed and fallen.

Musically, Come Back is as singularly Ferree’s as his debut, 2006’s Leaving The Nest, a concoction of Americana that doesn’t rely too heavily on rustic/roots music for its vintage feel. Traces of doo-wop and teen idol pop dot the soundscape as Beach Boys harmony and rockabilly fuzz jitterbug together, while Marc Bolan’s glam rock sashays nearby. It’s a sound fittingly unique for Ferree’s distinct (to say the least) voice, a somewhat nasal croon with a confident swagger and unique timbre that matches the fuzzy guitars and swinging beats the arrangements employ. The voice also gives Ferree a natural range that lets him mesh whimsy and gravity as on "What Would Pecos Do?", with its Muppet-worthy intro giving way to reveal a story about a hopeless and despondent protagonist. Here, then, is a songwriter capable of drawing remarkable depth from swinging pop-rock, crafting a distinctive voice among an oversaturated pop-music landscape and leaving a front-to-back winner of an LP as evidence.

1. Tired Of Being Good
2. Fear
3. Big Business
4. What Would Pecos Do?
5. Blown Out (Gold Doubloons and Pcs of 8)
6. The Grips
7. Iris Flowers
8. I Get No Love
9. Come To Me, Coming To Me
10. Whirlpool of Love
11. Pisstopher Christopher
12. When You’re 16
13. Great Scott!
14. Zipperface Blues

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 2/12/09

The whole rock-star idol thing ain't so big for Dexter Romweber: Rock wrapped around his head

2009-02-11T23:32:00.001-05:00

The whole rock-star idol thing ain't so big for Dexter Romweber

Rock wrapped around his head

11 FEB 2009 • by Bryan Reed

Click for larger image • The family spirit: Sara Romweber and brother Dexter in the ruins outside of Chapel Hill
Photo by D.L. Anderson

Dexter Romweber answers the door of his blue, wood-paneled house, his glasses perched upon his loose pompadour, flecked gently with gray. The unbuttoned collar of his crisp white shirt pushes past his black V-neck sweater. He says hello and motions toward the living room, another of his omnipresent cigarettes delineating an acrid pathway to a deeply cushioned easy chair. Romweber leans into a couch across the room, his spent cigarettes collecting in an adjacent old porcelain ashtray. A print of Marilyn Monroe leans in the corner of the room, offering bedroom eyes over Romweber's left shoulder.

Sitting in his house tucked back into the woods of western Chapel Hill, this genial version of Dexter Romweber seems a far cry from the intense, proto-rock 'n' roller who played the late show at The Cave last night with upright bassist Stu Cole. That Romweber had been a focused, charismatic frontman, lower lip forever puffed out into a scowl, his voice a dynamic growl that at turns recalled Jim Morrison's swagger and Johnny Cash's robust croon. Romweber's guitar crackled with vintage amplifier crispness, a real slapback rattle. And this Romweber seems even farther from the boldfaced "Dexter Romweber" of the underground legend Flat Duo Jets, a band that's been done for a decade but still counts among its legion of fans Jack White, Neko Case and X's Exene Cervenka.

As longtime friend Hoppie Newton puts it, "He's their celebrity."

That status remains a blessing and a curse for Romweber. On Tuesday, Feb. 10, Bloodshot Records—a big independent label out of Chicago—will release Ruins of Berlin, his new collaboration with sister Sara as Dex Romweber Duo. Case and Chan Marshall (of Cat Power) both sing on the disc, and it's bound to get some attention. But, nearly three decades into his recording career, Romweber, now 42, likes making music and hanging out more than living up to some rock 'n' roll and North Carolina icon status.

"I wouldn't mind just being an ordinary person," he says. "No celebrity, nothing to write about, no big anything—just like someone who's completely ordinary. When you get a taste of all that drama for so long, if you outgrow it, you just really don't want to deal with it anymore."

But Romweber understands the urge to have musical heroes, maybe a little too much. He likes finding out about his own heroes, wild stories about Jerry Lee Lewis, or lost recordings by the obscure rockabilly singer Benny Joy. In fact, talk to anyone who's spent some time with Romweber, and they'll mention that name. Romweber's prone to in-depth investigations of his favorite artists, including a pilgrimage to Benny Joy's home in Tampa, Fla. It's the music he cares about, though, not the fame.

Romweber pulls an old 45 rpm record from a crate. It's in a simple black sleeve with only a portrait of a masked man calling himself The Phantom on the front. Only his stage name and the titles of the two sides are supplied. Romweber plays the A-side, "Love Me," and sinks back into the sofa, lost in the song. When he listens to records, he falls into trance, eyes closed, mouthing the words as if in prayer. His cigarette lies motionless between his fingers. Over the next two hours, it's the only time the usually animated speaker actually sits still.

When the tune's over, he moves again and begins to shares the scraps of information he's found regarding The Phantom: The Phantom, he says, released only one record, the one that just ended. The Phantom didn't like the acclaim the single received, so he abandoned his career, playing small bars and working day jobs just to maintain his independence. Romweber smiles. He likes that.

"I think both of our bands have our certain niche," says Rick Miller, the Southern Culture on the Skids frontman who produced Romweber's 2004 album, Blues That Defy My Soul. "We both kind of developed our own followings and our own niche market. That's really success to me: doing it on your own terms. And I think Dexter's always done it that way."

Romweber has been playing out with various bands since he was a teenager—most notably the Flat Duo Jets, whose riotous rockabilly garnered a cult following in the early-'90s that still forms the core of Romweber's fanbase. "Our parents had to drive us to the gig, or even go in with us because of the liquor laws," he remembers. "The owners were really scared to death that we'd drink. We usually just went out somewhere and smoked weed. I don't smoke anymore, but back then we used to smoke quite a lot."

Click for larger image • Sara and Dex
Photo by D.L. Anderson

His latest effort, Ruins of Berlin, returns Romweber to duo form via the Dex Romweber Duo with Sara. She's drummed in Snatches of Pink and Let's Active, and together the pair created a dynamic, 14-track trip that only vaguely recalls the rockabilly and garage grit of the Jets: "Me and Sara really wanted to get away from the sort of neo-rockabilly thing. Not to put that stuff down, it's just we wanted to get different moods."

Instead, Ruins focuses more on '60s crooner pop, surfy twang, and a general vibe of rock classicism that would come as no surprise to anybody who's ever met Romweber, an avid record collector who is always eager to share his finds. Half of the songs on Ruins are covers Romweber decided to do while leafing through his own record collection. "Love Letters," on which he sings with Cat Power, was originally a Ketty Lester song that David Lynch used for Blue Velvet. Romweber found a copy of the 45 digging through the PTA Thrift Shop in Carrboro. The album's final cut, "It's Too Late," was inspired by a song of the same name by Durham honky-tonk singer Roy House. Romweber had that on 45, too, but he's lost it. He re-wrote the original tune from memory in order to get it on Ruins.

In December, Romweber also released a full-length album, Night Tide, with Dexter Romweber & The New Romans, a nine-piece big-band started by Romweber's best friend and roommate Dave Schmitt. The Romans remains Romweber's deliberately anti-rockstar band with a Phantom-esque career map—play for fun, play easy-to-reach local bars almost exclusively, and let the online CD orders roll in from as far away as Germany.

Indeed, even at the height of the Jets' fame, Romweber strove for some tie to normal life. Miller recalls working at a coffee shop in downtown Chapel Hill the day after the Flat Duo Jets played Letterman. Romweber came in with fliers for his lawn service: "I was like, 'Wow, this says a lot about the music business, doesn't it?'" he laughs. It said more about Romweber, actually. Even today, after more than two decades on the road, Romweber says, "I admire the common laborer and at times I even envy them, too."

That doesn't mean he hasn't had fun. The now-sober Romweber remembers one Raleigh house show in particular, a bacchanal of alcohol and mushrooms that became a sort of drug-induced nirvana. "It was one of the most rocking nights," he says. "I think because everyone was sort of collectively on the same trip, but me and Crow [Chris "Crow" Smith, the Jets' drummer] and the crowd were all absolutely moving in one rhythm. It was an incredible night. People still talk to me about that night even today."

After the Jets broke up, Romweber fell to crushing lows, slipping into what Waylon Jennings called the Hank Williams syndrome—being a creative person prone to self-destructive behavior. "I never expected it to go that low, but it did," he says. "And again, that goes back to getting out of the taking LSD and drinking a bottle of wine before you play."

Even if the booze is gone, Romweber still supplies the same intensity for the stage. "I would see the show night after night, and it was almost more of a religious experience than it was a show," says Newton, who has toured with Romweber and says the sober set is still transcendent. "He's sort of this really intense fucking character and you're just transported into this show ... it's like you're experiencing something different. There's something timeless about it and you're feeling it when you're in the room."

But sitting in his living room as the sun begins to drop behind the trees, Dexter Romweber is just Dexter Romweber: "Rock star, schmock star. Just living a pretty normal, basic existence has its allure. It does for me." And, in some ways, he does live a normal life. He hangs out with friends and talks about books and records. He takes walks and has trouble figuring things out on his computer. He frets about whether he should go out with the girl who called him a third of the way into this interview.

Or, as Newton puts it, "He's goofy as fuck. He cracks me up non-stop. He's wicked intelligent. He's a genius cat, but he's also just funny. He's a joy to hang out with."

It's just that he's a rock 'n' roll star even when he's not, and even when he doesn't want to be. "There were times when playing music and doing it as it's done, I knew that I wasn't going to bed a happy person." But it's not about the fame, or the influence. It never was. It's about the songs, the crisp tone of a vintage guitar and that primal energy he can't help but lay into every inch of tape he records and every show in every dive bar he plays.

But even so, as the afternoon sun casts its last glow through the old screen door, Romweber admits, tellingly, "I think that rock and rollers are as frail as anybody."

Dex Romweber Duo joins Killer Filler and Marc E. Smith & Michael Rank at Local 506 Saturday, Feb. 14, at 10 p.m. Tickets are $5-$7.

Independent Weekly, 2/11/09

Or, The Whale - Light Poles And Pines

2009-02-10T12:51:00.001-05:00

Or, The Whale
Light Poles And Pines

[Seany; 2009]

Styles: alternative country
Others: Old 97s, Lucinda Williams, so on and so forth
Links: Or, The Whale - Seany

San Francisco’s Or, The Whale is, in many ways, prototypical of everything we love about alternative country and, simultaneously, everything we hate about alternative country. Indeed, anybody whose ears perk at the sound of weathered harmonies, steel guitar moans, or brushed-snare shuffles will find plenty to be enamored with on the band’s recently re-released debut LP, Light Poles And Pines. But country music is a genre built on a notion of working-class, rural (or at least semi-rural), regionally-specific authenticity. Even the much-reviled products of the modern Nashville music machine manage to speak to specific instances common among target demographics, most of which still identify with small-town, rural America and working-class ethos.

What Or, The Whale has done here is wrangle a handful of admittedly talented musicians to create a sort of portrait of what country music is allegedly supposed to sound like and look like and feel like, without, of course, coming off too redneck or too rustic or too unpolished. This image of American identity is composed of nameless people in nameless towns functioning as though they could be anywhere. Sprinkles of tried and tired tropes dot this featureless landscape. It seems as though the band’s vision is blurred not by the dust and sweat and drunkenness that gave us Woody Guthrie and Jimmie Rogers and Hank Williams, nor is it blinded by the sparkling rhinestone glitz of countrypolitan Nashville, nor is it rushed by as twinkling lights on the horizon seen from the highway. No, this is a vision blurred by vagueness attempting to evoke something that might or might not exist in the lives of those presenting it.

Indeed, Or, The Whale’s debut is a sketch of country authenticity held at arm’s length. Even as it unwinds its charming, relaxed songs with a casual ease, this sort of pleasantness is superficial.

1. Call And Response
2. Saint Bernard
3. Threads
4. Isn’t She Awful
5. Death Of Me
6. Crack A Smile
7. Fixin’ To Leave
8. Rope Don’t Break
9. Life And Death At Sea
10. Gonna Have To
11. Bound To Go Home
12. Prayer For The Road
13. Fight Song

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 02/10/2009

8 Days A Week

2009-02-04T21:23:00.001-05:00

Thursday 2.05

Chapel Hill
Lady DJ Night
Local 506—Diversifying its schedule with more local, but not necessarily indie-rock, events seems to be a goal of the 506 of late. Need proof? Witness their Final Fridays dance parties. This one-off party features five female DJs ready to unload a slew of singles for your listening, drinking and ass-shaking pleasures. No gimmicks or cover charge here: Just the lady DJs and their hot jams, letting you loose at 9:30 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Tuesday 2.10

Raleigh
Dex Romweber Duo
Schoolkids Records—This is the second week the Romwebers have appeared in this space, and it's for a reason: Today, the Dex Romweber Duo—comprising siblings and local music legends Dexter and Sara Romweber—will release its Bloodshot Records debut, Ruins of Berlin, with appearances by Cat Power and Neko Case. They'll acknowledge its arrival in record stores by playing in one. And if the gesture seems a tad nostalgic, it suits the duo, which gives pop standards by Marlene Dietrich and Ella Fitzgerald rockabilly rattle and surfy swing that Dexter might as well have trademarked with the Flat Duo Jets. The free show starts at 6:30 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 2/4/09

Hearing Aid

2009-02-04T21:21:00.001-05:00

YES, PLEASE

The Physics of Meaning

02.05 THE PHYSICS OF MEANING, LOST IN THE TREES @ NIGHTLIGHT

Both having released noteworthy chamber-pop albums in 2008, Daniel Hart's The Physics of Meaning and Ari Picker's Lost In The Trees are like bedfellows. But even if the pairing seems too easy, their sounds are satisfyingly divergent: Hart's violin (which has been heard on recordings by the likes of St. Vincent, Annuals and The Polyphonic Spree) leads Physics' classically inclined bombast, recalling the extravagance of Yes or Led Zeppelin more than a stuffy strings ensemble. Picker relies instead on a more lonesome sound, cherrypicking elements of classical and folk music to augment his hushed, thoughtful songwriting. Albina Savoy opens at 9:30 p.m. —Bryan Reed

02.07 BELLAFEA, THE CURTAINS OF NIGHT @ NIGHTLIGHT

Bellafea's long-awaited Cavalcade saw the band evolved into a muscular, tightly wound unit able to dart and dodge upon off-kilter guitar lines through a rhythmic minefield, all without forsaking the songwriting. With Lost Houses, The Curtains of Night proved itself to be equally forceful, but the duo opted for a full assault, trudging through thick fuzz and laying siege with megaton riffs. Neither Bellafea's hailstorm nor Curtains' avalanche suffer from any shortage of volume or intensity, and, live, the effect is only multiplied. The opening act, Dischord-signees Andalusians, kick things off at 10 p.m., dragging shiny-happy '60s pop through the mud just enough to add some edge. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 2/4/09

Harptallica

2009-02-04T21:15:00.000-05:00

Harptallica

New Brookland Tavern: Saturday, Feb. 7

By Bryan Reed

The harp, it would seem, is anathema to rock ’n’ roll music. It’s bulky and burdensome —not exactly a convenience for a touring band playing small clubs. And the instrument’s graceful, fluid timbre doesn’t always mesh well with a genre the sound of which is rooted substantially in rhythm and perennially in praise of rawness. But, as the saying goes, thing aren’t always as they seem.

Take Louisiana-based duo Harptallica, a Metallica-tribute act that rearranges the metal megalith’s songs for a two-harp setup.

“I was listening to a lot of old Metallica and it just seemed really accessible,” says founding member Ashley Toman, a classically-trained harpist with a degree from the Eastman School of Music, of the group’s genesis. She started with “Fade To Black,” and kept working at re-arranging other songs until she had the nine cuts that became Harptallica’s self-titled debut. But without the meaty crunch of down-tuned guitars and the percussive battery of an oversized drum kit, Harptallica’s takes tend to morph Metallica’s songs into entirely new creatures; the thrashing rage of the originals gives way to melodic, harmonious and gentle movements.

Harptallica

Indeed, it seems Harptallica has broadened its appeal simply by not setting comfortably into any niche — or, for that matter any vehicle. The band travels in an extended mini-van, cramming the two massive instruments and its luggage in, leaving barely enough space for the driver and two passengers. But such is the cost of bringing the harp out of the conservatory and to the people.

“Most people haven’t ever seen a harp, or if they have it’s in a symphony or on TV,” says Toman, recalling her own celluloid introduction to the instrument as a young teen. She adds,
“I had never seen it until I started.”

And so Harptallica sets out to take the harp out of its cloister of inaccessibility one show at a time.

The New Brookland Tavern is located at 122 State St. in West Columbia. Death Becomes Even the Maiden and ...for science! open. Doors open at 8 p.m.; admission is $8. Call 791-4413 or visit newbrooklandtavern.com for more information.

Free Times, 2/4/09

They Won't Stay Dead

2009-02-02T21:10:00.003-05:00

Get your own - Open publication

My feature on "American Zombie," a film-festival dedicated to the works on George A. Romero begins on page 26 of the February 2009 issue of Uptown Magazine.

Sound Bites

2009-02-02T01:12:00.001-05:00

Thursday

Inhale Exhale — Ohio post-hardcore outfit Inhale Exhale isn’t going to be breaking any molds anytime soon. But depending on your predilections, that might not be a bad thing. The guitars alternately trudge and lacerate, the drums pound and pummel and the vocal delivery trades off between singing and screaming. It’s a formula that hasn’t disappointed the band’s label Solid State yet, even if it might leave something to be desired by way of innovation. Local expatriate quintet Sent By Ravens joins the tour with a more approachable (read: non-screamy) style that still draws plenty of parallels to its tourmates. Double-pedal bass drums reign tonight.
B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 6:30 p.m., $8 ($10 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Friday

Hannah Miller — The easy comparisons here are to Rachael Yamagata and Feist, both of whom deliver similarly breathy, coffee-shop and oversized-sweater-ready singer/songwriter fare. But in addressing Columbia’s Hannah Miller — who on this night will perform with her full band, The Misadventures — such comparisons reveal little more than a vague sonic touchstone that could apply easily to hundreds, if not thousands of female songwriters. Beyond superficial sounds-likes, Miller’s arrangements subtly evoke sounds as disparate as Deep South folk, breezy pop-rock and ragtime while her voice caresses each note, coaxing out lovelorn ballads and meditative hymns with equal aplomb.
B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 9 p.m., $5 ($7 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Sunday

Brave Young — At the end of 2008, Greensboro, N.C.’s, Giant announced it would be changing its name to Brave Young. The transition has been slow, but steadily progressing — just like Brave Young’s music. From Giant’s beginnings as a downtempo doom-punk leviathan, the band has evolved into one of the region’s heaviest and most powerful instrumental post-rock outfits. Bowed bass guitar? Yup. Timpani? Yup. But far from self-indulgent (well, maybe not that far), it all adds up when Brave Young’s immense epics begin to take shape. Fusing elements of anything post-something, plus the evocative power of film scores and ambient music, the music literally becomes a moving presence in the room. Advent, featuring ex-members of Beloved, also plays.
B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7 p.m, $4 ($8 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Free Times, 1/28/09

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart

2009-01-30T12:14:00.001-05:00

Annie Powers

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart are here and indie pop matters again

By Bryan Reed
Published: January 30th, 2009 | 7:50am

The very notion of indie pop in 2009 seems almost quaint. It’s often so feigned and precious and best handled in small doses like that guy at the party who’s a little too nice, and probably wearing a cardigan. People aren’t that happy all of the time, and the best bands get it. Beat Happening sure as hell got it. Belle and Sebastian get it. And as anybody who hears their Slumberland Records debut will soon find out, the Pains of Being Pure at Heart get it.

Behind their sonic mass — a balance of twee-pop melodies and shoegaze density, something like Talulah Gosh backed by Neil Halstead — the Pains of Being Pure at Heart write songs about conflicted, damaged characters. Pop hooks get mangled by guitar noise as the songs’ narratives go deeper and darker. “The best music hopefully spurs thought and spurs you to reconsider things and not just take it at face value,” says frontman Kip Berman. It’s all about juxtaposition, pairing a pretty pop song with a not-so-attractive subject, jangle and squall, pain and purity. “It’s nice when there’s multiple layers to music,” Berman adds. “It gives songs a little more heft or impact.”

So does honesty, another trait laced through the Pains’ songs. “It’s all very rooted in who we are as people,” Berman says. “For better or worse, it’s who we are.” Even as the songs delve into heady and potentially painful subject matter — including broken hearts and drug addiction, alienation, teenage death, and sexual confusion — Berman insists there’s a basis in reality. “You can’t really be unmasked if you’re unmasking yourself.”

The directness in Berman's lyrics makes the songs immediate and almost tangible in their emotional quality. It’d be pretty difficult to confuse the meaning of a line like, “A teenager in love with Christ and heroin.” And even when he’s not so blunt, the lyrical bent in a Pains song is narrative and expository. So, excluding the sonic qualities, it’s songwriting qualities that make the Pains’ indie pop not just palatable, but vital. The band’s haze of suspended keyboard chords and chiming guitar fuzz doesn’t hurt; nor does the sweet, calm tone of Berman’s vocals. But that’s all for naught without songs worth getting acquainted with and empathetic characters who reveal more of themselves in each successive verse.

“The term ‘literate’ is not really one I’d want to use because I feel like most bands know how to read and write,” Berman says. Maybe thoughtful is more adept? He’s not a storyteller in the same photorealistic manner as a John Darnielle, or in the verbose style of a Colin Meloy, but Berman’s words are chosen with similar care, revealing details at the right moment or hiding them just long enough to make the big reveal feel urgent.

Berman cites the confessional songwriting bent of hardcore as an influence, but mostly it’s just about being honest with yourself. “We feel very comfortable being the uncomfortable people we are,” he says. And there’s a freedom in not hiding. Berman suggests that maybe being up-front isn’t as safe as relying on vague images to evoke emotion, but, he asserts, “our ambition isn’t simply to non-offend our way to people’s hearts.”

Certainly all the ingredients for a promising debut are to be found in the Pains’ self-titled long-player. And the response has been duly positive. Early press has been favorable, but perhaps the biggest votes of confidence came during the band’s recent U.K. tour, which found the Pains touring the stomping grounds of their idols. “If music is our religion, it was our pilgrimage, or like our hajj to go to England where all these pop bands are from,” Berman says. “It was almost like teenagers meeting the Jonas Brothers or something.”

And not only did Berman and his bandmates meet their idols, but those influential musicians were among the audiences on the tour. Modestly, Berman opines, “If all these people in bands we like are coming to our shows and liking it, it must mean we don’t suck that much.”

—

For more information about the Pains of Being at Heart, check out their MySpace.

VenusZine online feature, 1/30/08

Notorious

2009-01-22T12:22:00.000-05:00

NOTORIOUS—The Biggie Smalls portrayed in George Tillman, Jr.'s picture is at turns charming, brilliant and utterly loathsome. Smalls, aka Notorious B.I.G., aka Christopher Wallace (played by newcomer Jamal Woolard), is a womanizing former crack-dealer who spends the film's 100 minutes trying to come of age, even as he becomes hip-hop's biggest star. It's a realistic-enough sounding portrayal of an obese rapper who rose from street corner drug peddling to superstardom to an early martyrdom at the hands of still-unknown shooters. Elsewhere, musical biopic traps abound—the turbulent loves, the friends who always come through, and the tormented mother who never lost hope. Even so, Woolard so deftly shows us all sides of B.I.G. that we appreciate Biggie Smalls not as a hero or a villain, but as a man. Rated R. —BR

Independent Weekly

8 Days A Week

2009-01-22T12:19:00.001-05:00

Wednesday 1.28

22 JAN 2009

The Naked Hearts

Chapel Hill
The Naked Hearts, Pinche Gringo, The Pneurotics
The Cave—It's pushing toward dawn when the caffeine shakes kick in, eerily synchronous with Josh Johnson's own rattling garage rock as it pushes the limits of my tiny computer speakers. His one-man (sometimes with one woman, too) band Pinche Gringo is soundtracking the swells of the bags under my eyes. Short of actually seeing the punk-blues barrage in person, it couldn't sound better. Lucky, then, are the souls who venture below the Cave's low-ceiling for Pinche Gringo's presence, this time flanked by The Pneurotics' eased-in rock and out-of-town headliners Naked Hearts, whose indie pop manages to recall everything from C86 pop to Jawbreaker. Things heat up around 10 p.m., cost is $5. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 1/22/09

Hearing Aid

2009-01-22T12:17:00.001-05:00

YES, PLEASE

01.22 THE WADING GIRL/ JOKES&JOKES&JOKES @ RESERVOIR

This is what small rooms were made for—rocking folk/folksy rock as well suited for a bonfire as a bar by bands borrowing folk's rustic simplicity, punk's something-to-say impetus and the DIY traditions of both. Roanoke, Va.'s Wading Girl lounges in Southern tropes—religion, small-town America and the freedoms/confinements of both. Wading Girl's got three records out, all of which are offered for free on the band's MySpace for your pre-show pleasure. Local duo Jokes&Jokes&Jokes relies on similar themes for its own parables driven by frontdude Owen FitzGerald's observational tomes. Donations/ 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

RE-INTRODUCING...

01.24 LUEGO @ BROAD STREET CAFE

Haste almost got the better of Luego, the band of Durham songwriter Patrick Phelan. "I rushed the last [tour] and went out for about eight or nine months, and lost money pretty much every night," admits Phelan. "That's the quickest way to break up a band."

Sure enough, it did, and Phelan almost threw in the towel. Then Peter Holsapple, sometime player in The dB's, R.E.M. and Hootie and the Blowfish, talked him out of it. "Peter keeps telling me he wants to take a back seat, but he's been a real mentor and friend to me," says Phelan. "He came at the right time."

Since adding multi-instrumentalist Holsapple last fall, Luego has also earned some extra power with drummer Rob DiMauro and Roman Candle/ Max Indian members Nick Jaeger and Jeff Crawford. Phelan says there's a revival of rock classicism in Chapel Hill, citing Max Indian and The Old Ceremony as peers. In turn, this new Luego has traded its orchestral dabbling for a rock solid foundation in Neil Young-type roots rock, Comboland pop and even a touch of T. Rex swagger. "I feel like we're on to something pretty big," Phelan offers. He'll be giving out free two-song CD samplers of the bigness found on Luego's forthcoming LP tonight. Free/ 8 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 1/22/09

Arrington de Dionyso - I See Beyond The Black Sun

2009-01-22T11:55:00.002-05:00

01/22/2009

Arrington de Dionyso

I See Beyond The Black Sun

(K)

www.krecs.com

On his last record with longtime band, Old Time Relijun, Arrington de Dionyso asked, amid clattering tribal percussion and brash sax skronk, "What does it mean to be human?" Here, he's searching for those same metaphysical truths-albeit without lyrics. De Dionyso's predilections for out-jazz and global sounds take the fore. Tuvan throat singing techniques that split de Dionyso's voice into low, gurgling drones and ethereal, fluid melodies mingle with bass clarinet squawks and moans from the first moments of "All Is On!" and throughout the album proper's 40-minute running time.

The extremely out-there CD-only bonus track "Les Grenouilles De Cherbourg" adds an extra 19 minutes, and feels unnecessary given the album's steady build-up to "Pluto In Capricorn (I See Beyond The Black Sun)," a 16-minute journey that eventually adds a steady rock drumbeat and unites the foreign, even alien, sounds of de Dionyso's throat-singing with Western convention. The throat-singing, a trick he's employed with Old Time Relijun, but rarely as a focal point, becomes a vehicle for de Dionyso's explorations of humanity. In effect, he's once again shown us something uniquely human-and regionally specific, to boot-by confounding our American ears' expectations with otherworldly sounds that, in fact, are easily traceable to this world.

Granted, that doesn't necessarily make for an easy-or even a pleasant-listening experience. De Dionyso's gurgles and groans and squawks and squeals offer plenty to reward the mind and body-he's a master of milking a groove from out-minded sounds-but inevitably, at least at times, come off as harsh and abrasive, as avant-garde music often does. It's hard to call that a compliment, but it's just as difficult to brand it a criticism. Suffice it to say, though, buyer beware: The sounds contained herein-deliberate though it might be-are far from accessible.

Standout Tracks: "Pluto In Capricorn (I See Beyond The Black Sun)," "All Is On!" BRYAN REED

Blurt Online, 1/22/09

Sound Bites

2009-01-15T13:15:00.001-05:00

Thursday

Part Bear — I’ve always hated the word “cigs” for no reason I can rightly discern, and there it is, 33 seconds into Part Bear’s “Velvet,” glaring at me, taunting, teasing, smiling crookedly. It’s distracting. For a moment I forget what’s happening. I feel like an old man hearing rock music for the first time and being agitated out of a Benny Goodman coma. What the hell is this?! I’ll tell you what it is: It’s Athens-bred garage rock, some potent brew of sweat, libido and cheap beer — and, yeah, cigs. It spits the word defiantly. I’m all riled up. Gimme a cig. B. Reed
Wet Willie’s: 8 p.m., free; 779-5650.

Shallow Palace — When Shallow Palace sneers, there’s no room for nonsense. Hell, there’s no room for anything other than the band’s take on guitar-driven hard rock. Citations? Stooges and Stones. Petty and Pink Floyd. Costello and The Clash. Add a touch of Cursive here and there and that sounds about right. The quintet headlines a local showcase that also features The Reverie, Cats and Cobras and The Fossil Record — all of whom reach just far enough outside the alt-rock mainstream to be interesting without losing any accessibility. It’s a rock show, not an art museum. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7 p.m., $4 ($8 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Friday

Marry a Thief — Auto-Tune adversaries beware: It might be time to give up on indie-pop. Imogen Heap used it to gussy up “Hide And Seek” and Bon Iver’s newest EP features an a capella track that runs Auto-Tune all over Justin Vernon’s lonely croon. So it seems as if Columbia’s own Marry a Thief is ahead of the curve, then, adopting the warbly, distant and computer-generated timbre for itself. And to great effect: See “Honestly Bored” and its despondent coldness as compared to the band’s warmer, guitar-driven cuts. Different songs call for different sounds, and Marry a Thief, recognizing that, pushes its own sonic boundaries to evolve instead of just playing it safe. The Fire Tonight and This Machine is Me also play. B. Reed
Wet Willie’s: 8 p.m., free; 779-5650.

Saturday

The Vinyl Strangers — Athens’ Vinyl Strangers love guitar pop and aren’t afraid to show it. Clearly, the quartet is well-schooled in the genre. A proto-R.E.M. jangle ‘n’ sway rides the Byrds/Big Star sonic template by the book: chiming chords and buoyant rhythms meeting smooth melodies and Beach Boys harmony. And frontman Joe Guerzo’s voice sometimes carries a vaguely Stipe-ish timbre, giving credence to the Strangers’ hometown — and, by proxy, the Comboland pop that inspired R.E.M. Too often reverence trumps originality, but The Vinyl Strangers keep it fresh by turning their unabashed love of pop into sincerity and injecting top-notch lyric construction, resurrecting standard structures with clever twists of phrase, casual rhymes and developed narratives. B. Reed
Wet Willie’s: 8 p.m., free; 779-5650.

Free Times, 1/14/09

8 Days A Week

2009-01-15T13:13:00.000-05:00

Sunday 1.18

14 JAN 2009

Chapel Hill
Mute
The Cave—The relative newcomers of Mute stretch atmospheric shoegaze into lengthy meditations built around repeated phrases that build glacially. Swapping unyielding density for scope and space, the songs either bury you until you forget they're building or they entrance you like rain on the roof at night. Reprising a Friday night set at Sadlack's in Raleigh, the Capital City quartet takes to the subterranean Franklin Street tavern with likeminded neighbors Goodbye, Titan, whose own post-whatever brew feels more direct than Mute's. Chapel Hill folky Natasha El-Sergany opens at 9 p.m. Cover is $5. —Bryan Reed

Editor's Note: Mute recently changed its name to The White Cascade.

Independent Weekly, 1/14/09

Kreator - Hordes of Chaos

2009-01-15T13:08:00.001-05:00

Kreator
Hordes of Chaos

[Steamhammer; 2009]

Styles: thrash metal
Others: Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer
Links: Kreator - Steamhammer

In the more than 20 years since Germany’s Kreator debuted with 1985’s Endless Pain, not a whole lot has changed for Kreator, or for thrash as a whole. Being so minutely subdivided, metal’s subgenres tend to rest heavily on their sonic trademarks, evolving minutely — if at all — lest they enter a nominally different genre. And sure enough, Kreator’s thrash is undeniably thrash — not power metal, not death metal, not even melodic death metal. Thrash. Just like the band’s older cousins in Metallica did with last year’s Death Magnetic, Kreator is sticking to its guns. Except, Kreator, instead of rehashing its own glory days and sounding like a tribute band covering its own songs, has aged gracefully. The veteran band’s latest, Hordes of Chaos, might not have the same explosive power vintage thrash once seemed to carry in spades, but it trades spontaneity for finesse and deliberation. Indeed, Hordes of Chaos is put together, mature, even.

The sloppy, drunken speed-freak tendencies of thrash’s adolescence (think D.R.I.) is eschewed completely here, traded for Mille Petrozza’s sobering views of humanity and global politics, and a fierce yet fine-tuned machine of a band churning out tight and heavy thrash, polished with age and wisdom, but just as agitated as ever. The title track builds itself into a barely-contained frenzy with a whirlwind Petrozza chanting “everyone against everyone” as his band builds his mantra into a furious froth before dissolving into a sustained squeal of feedback that launches into the charged gallop that opens “Warcurse.” Only “Amok Run” softens the blow, and only momentarily as it opens with a sparse, deliberate, and melancholy melodic passage before erupting into lightning-fast riffs and Petrozza, snarling and rabid, leading his band with the confidence of a seasoned general ushering his troops to battle. Searing guitars, a thundering low-end, and a vicious frontman all coalesce here to make Hordes of Chaos a solid, pitch-perfect slab of by-the-book metal, front-to-back. Kreator might not have changed much, but if after decades of this kind of masterful consistency, who am I to complain?

1. Hordes of Chaos (A Necrologue For The Exile)
2. Warcurse
3. Escalation
4. Amok Run
5. Destroy What Destroys You
6. Radical Resistance
7. Absolute Misanthropy
8. To The Afterborn
9. Corpses of Liberty
10. Demon Prince

by Bryan Reed

The Final Analysis: Best Albums of 2008

2009-01-12T15:04:00.003-05:00

Free Times' Top 10 Albums of 2008, blurb for WHY?'s Alopecia (repeated in individual list)

4. Why?, Alopecia (Anticon)(Two votes, 30 points)
I’ve long thought a successful synthesis of rock and hip-hop impossible. In 2008, Yoni Wolf proved me wrong. Pop’s way with a hook, indie rock’s confessional propensity and hip-hop wordplay come together allowing Wolf to propel his neurotic narratives into universal empathy and sing-along grandeur. You’re not likely to hear anything like this until the next Why? platter drops. - B. Reed

Free Times, 01/07/09

Individual List:
Bryan Reed

7. Harvey Milk, Life…The Best Game In Town (Hydra Head)(10 points)
Gus Van Sant and Sean Penn gave Harvey Milk, the slain San Francisco city supervisor and gay rights activist, a second life in the public conscious this year. Life …The Best Game In Town gave a similar resurrection to Harvey Milk the band. The titanic metal act from Athens delivered one of the year's heaviest albums the right way — digging into riffs so deep they become mudslides, churning deliberately, swallowing everything in its way. The bass rattles the floor, the vocals growl and gurgle, and the guitars alternate lunging ahead in classic-rock worthy solos and squeezing back into the maw of Harvey Milk's slow-rolling melee building power through repeated riffs.

6. Fuck Buttons, Street Horrrsing (ATP)(15 points)
Structured and subtly melodious, English duo Fuck Buttons' debut LP left little else to be desired from accessible noise. Hypnotic washes of static bake the repeated phrases and ideas that tie the album together as a cohesive unit, even as it veers at times into tribal percussion and distorted yelps, or insistent house-like bass thumps. Mostly, though, Street Horrrsing is both engaging and enveloping. It draws the listener in to it time and again, each time revealing a bit more of itself. Experimental, sure, but its attraction is as natural as any 12-bar blues.

5. Mamiffer, Hirror Enniffer (Hydra Head)(15 points)
Perhaps this year's most stirring debut, the solo project of multi-instrumentalist Faith Coloccia, solders post-rock, chamber pop and doom together with her tundra of piano phrases buttressed by abysmally deep bass grooves and martial percussion. She can drop the bottom out and give a song a blackened low-end groove, or hoist a song aloft on gentle piano and atmospheric noise — or, as is her custom, she can pull off both extremes within the course of one track. This dynamic lends the album a multifaceted character, at some times dark and ominous, at others serene and calming. At all times, though, Hirror Enniffer is nothing short of gorgeous.

4. Nomo, Ghost Rock (Ubiquity)(15 points)
Seamlessly blending jazz, Afro-beat and experimental electronics into delirious, danceable fun is Nomo's M.O. on Ghost Rock, and proves the Michigan band is at the top of its funky multi-culti pop potpourri. The band's musical brew is an effortless chemistry, and its product is as singular on today's market as the album is an absolute joy to listen to.

3. Earth, The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull (Southern Lord)(15 points)
The 13th full-length release from Dylan Carlson's legendary Earth sounds like no other. His pacing remains slow and deliberate, but this is not the heavy, sludgy Earth of old; rather, this a post-millennial hodgepodge of soulful American music. Strains of gospel, country-western and jazz meet amid the hum of the towering amps Carlson and company have made trademark. Here, the drone isn't an end in itself, but returns to its universal role as the foundation from which music is birthed. The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull feels timeless, its elements forming together into something near iconic. Indeed, this might well be a career-defining masterwork for Earth.

2. Why?, Alopecia (Anticon) (15 points)
I've long thought a successful synthesis of rock and hip-hop impossible. In 2008, Yoni Wolf proved me wrong. Under his Why? moniker, Wolf doesn't take the easy way out (rapping over a hard rock riff), but adopts the central elements of his source genres to create something new entirely. It's not a surprise that something this unconventional would be slept on, but it is a damn shame. Here, Wolf has produced a startlingly catchy and ear-friendly sonic blend. But most notable is the songwriting, which ranks easily among the year's best and finds the center of Wolf's successful genre synthesis. Pop's way with a hook, indie rock's confessional propensity and hip-hop wordplay come together allowing Wolf to propel his neurotic narratives into universal empathy and sing-along grandeur. You're not likely to hear anything like this until the next Why? platter drops.

1. Mount Eerie with Julie Doiron and Fred Squire, Lost Wisdom (P.W. Elverum & Sun)(15 points)
As bare as wintertime trees in Phil Elverum's native Pacific Northwest, Lost Wisdom is a glowing ember of an album. It creaks and moans and aches; it glows and dims and soon ends. Sparse arrangements and gentle harmonies move as one, fragile wisps of Elverum's creaking tenor and Julie Doiron's velvet croon embracing and separating. Recorded quickly with few takes, we hear the missed notes, the creaking of chair legs on wooden floors, the imperfect nature of the human voice, and the all-too-brief album turns those flaws into assets, and turns a fleeting moment of aural beauty into a quietly profound statement. The music itself is soon over, but the feeling it imparts lasts much, much longer.

Hearing Aid

2009-01-10T01:20:00.001-05:00

YES, PLEASE

01.09 HELLRAZOR/ THUNDERLIP @ LOCAL 506

Hellrazor shoots from the hip: The Raleigh quartet's brand of vintage thrash lunges in straight lines, drawing from what the band refers to as the "strong roots from which heavy metal came." That, in Hellrazor's case, means gruff but melodic vocals, fast, chugging riffs and unrelenting surges of drums. Consider Iced Earth, Anthrax and Judas Priest the Unholy Trinity, and you'll be on the right track. Wilmington's Thunderlip brings Thin Lizzy's harmonic guitars and AC/DC's swagger. Raleigh's Armored Uprise opens. $5/ 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

01.10 L IN JAPANESE @ NIGHTLIGHT

A longtime local beatmaker and dance party maestro, L In Japanese brings his boom-bap predilections and crowd-pleasing DJ set to the back alley bar as a means to benefit a West Franklin Street staple, Internationalist Books & Community Center. What a well-suited collaboration: With L's love of vintage and indie hip-hop, Nightlight's consistent commitment to adventurous music, and Internationalist's dedication to progressive politics and culture, respect for and participation in the underground gets its own boost tonight. $5/ 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 01/07/09

VISITING ACT | Wu-Tang Clan

2009-01-10T01:16:00.001-05:00

JANUARY 7, 2009

VISITING ACT | Wu-Tang Clan

Still Bringing Da Ruckus: Wu-Tang Clan's RZA leads the mellow jam

BY BRYAN REED

Veteran hip-hop act Wu-Tang Clan headlines in support of 8 Diagrams

Wu-Tang Clan
w/ The Movement
Sat. Jan. 10
8 p.m.
$45, $40/adv.
The Music Farm
32 Ann St.
(843) 853-3276
www.musicfarm.com
www.wutang-corp.com

Time has left its mark upon the Wu-Tang Clan. It's been 15 years since the earth-shattering (at least in retrospect) release of 1993's still astounding Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), and the Clan keeps on keepin' on. But this is a different Wu than the one that brought us immortal cuts like "C.R.E.A.M." and "Protect Ya Neck." The Wu-Tang of 2008 is a Clan short of founding member Ol' Dirty Bastard (née Russell Jones, who died in late 2004), and one that has struggled with infighting over the musical direction of last year's 8 Diagrams (their fifth studio album), which the group will be promoting at its Saturday night set at the Music Farm.

It's no real wonder that the initial reaction to 8 Diagrams was generally positive but mixed. Basically, if you're looking for another 36 Chambers, get ready for mild disappointment. The debut opens with the apt intro, "Bring Da Ruckus," and just as apt, the latest begins with the meditative "Campfire." Boom-bap with extra boom gets swapped for a hazy, Gospel tinged sample and a solemn backbeat. Diagrams finds RZA — Wu-Tang's long-standing producer extraordinaire — shifting his hazy atmospherics from tense, cinematic soundscapes to drifting guitar lines and paying more attention to R&B melodies. Note the album's hyped "The Heart Gently Weeps," on which Red Hot Chili Pepper John Frusciante and Beatle progeny Dhani Harrison give the Fab Four's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" a gliding interpolation with Erykah Badu's smoky croon providing the hook. It's an easy standout as much for its unexpectedness as its effortless charm.

But the new direction wasn't well-received by all — including Wu Tang lifers Ghostface Killah and Raekwon (who called RZA a "hip-hop hippie" in an interview). The fact remains, 8 Diagrams is no 36 Chambers. But this isn't 1993, either. Expecting the Wu-Tang to act like a time-capsule would be unfair and detrimental to all involved.

In the world of hip-hop where catalog sales are all but nonexistent, 15 years can cover several lifetimes. And the mere fact that Wu-Tang still makes headlines so long after their introduction — and in light of the late-'90s oversaturation of all things Wu — should be testament enough to the act's continuing relevance. That they can pull in talent as far flung as Frusciante and George Clinton for an album six years in the making — to say nothing of actually getting legal clearance for a Beatles sample — demonstrates plenty of Clan's influence.

So even though the Staten Island crew obsessed with Kung-Fu movies and comic books never took over the music industry quite as they'd hoped, they maintained a venerable presence in it. And they evolved. They got older. They went in their own directions and came back to where it all started. They changed like an old hometown changes when you're gone.

What's on display with 8 Diagrams is a wizened Wu-Tang, eased into their trademarks, and casually pushing the boundaries of their sonic comfort zone — more guitars, more singing, less fury. There's even a bit of the sentimental in "Life Changes," the touching eulogy for ODB that closes the album.

And, it should be noted, not everything has changed. There's still the same easy charisma, innate chemistry, humor, wordplay, and consistency that made Wu-Tang a household name. And, sure enough, Wu-Tang still ain't nothin' ta F' wit.

Charleston City Paper 01/07/09

8 Days A Week

2008-12-17T18:18:00.001-05:00

Friday 12.19

Trianglewide
Will Smith and Seven Pounds
Theaters Everywhere—Celebrity is newsworthy. It drew statewide media and roughly 1,000 fans to a Charlotte multiplex premiere of Seven Pounds—featuring the film's star, Will Smith. It encouraged those fans to stand in line in the rain, some for up to six hours, in hope of getting a ticket. And frankly, it's overwhelming. The lobby of the multiplex, packed to capacity two full hours before Smith's scheduled arrival, had its every vertical surface emblazoned with Smith's visage, giving the actor a Mao-like omnipresence in the room. A DJ played cuts from Smith's musical career—from "Parents Just Don't Understand" to "Just The Two Of Us"—while the crowd clawed at the air for free T-shirts.

The event benefited Second Harvest Food Bank in Charlotte, and when Smith finally walked into the room at 6:40 p.m., he announced he'd be donating 300 Christmas turkeys to local families, setting the tone for the premiere. "Part of playing this character has really shaken up that concept in my mind," Smith said of his stated belief that we're all responsible for helping each other out in hard times. In Seven Pounds, his character gives of himself as a method of atonement. In real life, it's promotion. And it'd be a lot easier to be cynical if Smith wasn't so likeable. But there he was, donning an honorary Panthers jersey and mugging for the crowd, beatboxing at the podium when the masses chanted his name, and greeting the damp thousand with handshakes, hugs and that million-dollar smile. It's the same easy charm that makes all of his movie characters relatable and empathetic to an audience. He's a movie star 100 percent of the time. "I'm very happy to be here," he said, smiling. "We've got a fantastic cause and hopefully a pretty good movie, too." —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 12/17/08

Capsule review

2008-12-17T18:16:00.000-05:00

SEVEN POUNDS—Will Smith is too famous for his own good. His latest vehicle suffers for it. Instead of seeing Ben Thomas, the guilt-ridden IRS agent turned personal savior to seven strangers, we see Will Smith, the effortlessly charismatic celebrity, playing the role of Ben Thomas. Seven Pounds—melodramatic, though it may be—could function as a character study revolving around the protagonist's shattered ego and extreme selflessness at least as much as it focuses on the obligatory and predictable romance between Smith and Rosario Dawson. But Smith, despite his best efforts, will always be Will Smith in our eyes. This, of course, is in the grand tradition of American celebrity (was Marilyn Monroe ever anybody other than Marilyn Monroe?), but even though Smith is certainly a competent actor in this piece—his character's reluctance to accept affection is particularly adept—his fame has overshadowed his talent. Rated PG-13. —BR

Independent Weekly, 12/17/08

Hearing Aid

2008-12-17T18:14:00.001-05:00

YES, PLEASE

12.18 THE SIBLING PROJECT @ THE CAVE

When Lindsey and Danny Ranck—the real-life siblings whose project highlights this weeknight pop show—sing together, their just-off harmonies give crucial conflict to the duo's simple, effervescent keys/ guitar/ laptop setup. As such, their imperfections become the band's most appealing attributes—sour notes making for sweeter songs. With Cool Ethan and Hey Euphony. 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

12.19 TENDER FRUIT/ MIDTOWN DICKENS @ THE PINHOOK

With this Durham-bred pairing, Southern folk tradition hits a crossroads, diverting between Tender Fruit's sparse, fragile blues and the Dickens' Olympia-learned blend of Kimya Dawson twee and Appalachia. Both hit the same soulful core: Tender Fruit's Christy Smith (of the late, great Nola) creates heat with her bold but fragile voice, guitars alternately plinking and roaring behind her melancholic melodies. Midtown Dickens fills space with any instrument it can get its hands on, layering simple phrases into the warm vocal harmonies that drive the band's direct songs. Also, The Beast. 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 12/17/08

Tiny Mix Tapes Favorite Albums of 2008...

2008-12-17T11:58:00.003-05:00

22. Earth - The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull
[Southern Lord]
by Bryan Reed

The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull is not merely another Earth album; it might come to be known as the Earth album. At the very least, it’s the Earth album we’ll remember not for its heavy drones, but for its melodic finesse and its seamless intersection of sap-thick pacing, subtle twang, Gospel uplift, and jazz clarity. Talk all you want of the record’s subtle and masterful instrumental interplay: Adrienne Davies’ deliberate, understated, and rock-solid percussion; Dylan Carlson’s effortless melodicism and featherlight suspension of perfect riff after perfect riff, augmented magnificently with the periodic counterpoint of jazz guitarist Bill Frisell; Steve Moore’s warm organ comps; Don McGreevey’s full-bodied and, umm, earthy bass. Revel in the humid hum of Earth’s legendary amps, the juxtaposition of polish and grit and its reflection on the band’s simultaneously mournful and hopeful tone (see that Gospel influence in full-force, eh?). But forget not the truest test of a record’s universal merit: its immediacy — something that often lacks in downtempo instrumental work. And rest assured that this latest from Carlson and co. delivers its eased-in, slowly uncoiling enchantment from the start and never lets up in its seamless and effortless evocation of the spirits of American music.

Earth - Southern Lord - Album Review

Tiny Mix Tapes, 12/17/08 (also, see the other 24 albums of the year)

...individual list:

Bryan Reed:
25. Akimbo - Jersey Shores (Neurot)
24. The Mountain Goats - Heretic Pride (4AD)
23. The Rosebuds - Life Like (Merge)
22. Women - Women (Jagjaguwar)
21. TV On The Radio - Dear Science (DGC/Interscope)
20. Nachtmystium - Assassins: Black Meddle Pt. I (Century Media)
19. Johann Johannson - Fordlandia (4AD)
18. Lil Wayne - Tha Carter III (Universal Motown/Cash Money)
17. Giant Sand - proVISIONS (Yep Roc)
16. Jenks Miller - Approaching The Invisible Mountain (Holidays For Quince/New American Folk Hero)
15. Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes (Sub Pop)
14. The Foreign Exchange - Leave It All Behind (Hall of Justus/Nicolay Music)
13. Double Negative - Raw Energy EP (Sorry State)
12. Wale - The Mixtape About Nothing (self-released)
11. Bellafea - Cavalcade (Southern)
10. The Dodos - Visiter (Frenchkiss)
09. Grampall Jookabox - Ropechain (Asthmatic Kitty)
08. Fucked Up - The Chemistry of Common Life (Matador)
07. Harvey Milk - Life…The Best Game In Town (Hydra Head)
06. Fuck Buttons - Street Horrrsing (ATP)
05. Mamiffer - Hirror Enniffer (Hydra Head)
04. Nomo - Ghost Rock (Ubiquity)
03. Earth - The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull (Southern Lord)
02. WHY? - Alopecia (Anticon)
01. Mount Eerie with Julie Doiron and Fred Squire - Lost Wisdom (P.W. Elverum & Sun)

LAKE - Oh, The Places We'll Go

2008-12-17T11:52:00.001-05:00

Lake

Oh, The Places We’ll Go

(K)

www.krecs.com

On its Dr. Seuss-referencing latest album, only the third of a reported 12 to see a proper release, the Olympia-based quintet known collectively as LAKE has created a lingering mood of shimmering clarity and earnest warmth. "Minor Trip" follows a hauntingly rich vocal delivery reminiscent of Julie Doiron with a sparingly plucked guitar and subtle percussion. Its melancholy is offset by its lush simplicity. It sounds full, though the arrangement is sparse, as though each note serves a purpose, nothing is wasted, but nothing's missing either. "Heaven" turns a '70s piano intro into a gently funky cut of cotton-candy gold.

But it's not all frivolous pop, either. "Minor Trip" opens with the warning, "Fearing the unknown/Will keep you down/But fear of death and dying will keep you trying." A simple sentiment, perhaps, but it takes on haunting gravity in the service of the song. In its gentle subtlety, jazz-toned guitars and soft tribal percussion, Oh, The Places We'll Go becomes an unassuming, bust lasting record well worth its almost-27 minutes.

Standout Tracks: "Minor Trip," "Heaven," "Bad Dream" BRYAN REED

Blurt Online, 12/16/08

Sound Bites

2008-12-13T13:42:00.001-05:00

Friday

Aposable Scum — Among the things that make the world a little more livable, one must certainly be noisy rock bands such as Aposable Scum. Buzzing like some long-lost Steve Albini project or the most out-minded moments of the Pavement oeuvre, the local quartet’s lo-fi ruckus is a hot mess that jolts like a suckerpunch. Skewed guitars hum and chime, grinding against each other over buried vocals and percussion. Still, within the band’s dense caterwaul lies a tunefulness born of nervy disquiet — post-punk tangles roughed up for few-frills splendor. Of note: This’ll be Aposable Scum’s CD release party. The abrupt, acid-gurgling Sein Zum Tode provides the evening’s introduction. - B. Reed
Hunter Gatherer: 10 p.m., $5; 748-0540,
myspace.com/huntergathererbrewery.

Harvest Hope Fundraiser — As this year’s season of giving happens to coincide with this generation’s season of economic desperation, it only makes sense to combine a bargain-bin cover ($2 or two cans of food) with dance-fueled escapism. This late show brings a handful of local big-shots to spin their best bangers on behalf of the Harvest Hope Food Bank; disc jockeys include New Brookland Tavern notables Sean Rayford and Andy Crunk, Hardy Childers, Free Times contributor Tug Baker and Free Times music editor Patrick Wall. Drink specials, dancing, charity. It sells itself. After all, this is all about giving — food to Harvest Hope and fun times to you. And you won’t need a bailout to afford admission. - B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 9:30 p.m., $2 (free with food donation); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Sunday

Killwhitneydead — Killwhitneydead doesn’t come without cause for controversy. The Greensboro quintet’s penchant for violent sloganeering matches its brutal onslaught. Blast beats, gut-sputtered growls and bludgeoning guitars chug along, injected with dismembered audio clips from movies and TV, crowd-baiting scream-alongs and searing melodic lines — synthesizing pop-culture awareness, Euro-metal harmonics, hardcore’s mob mentality and death metal misanthropy. Earnest crowds chant along to “Save Your Sermons For Sunday,” screaming “Leave no one alive,” an outcome that seems more than likely in the world of Killwhitneydead’s songs. Misogyny and violence prove a fertile breeding ground for Killwhitneydead’s nihilistic tomes, and at the same time give the band an aura of menace that doubles as a marketing angle. - B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 9 p.m., $10; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Free Times, 12/10/08

The Year in Music 2008: Tracklist

2008-12-12T12:21:00.003-05:00

ANNUALS

Download "Hardwood Floor"

(from Such Fun; Canvasback/ Ace Fu/ Terpikshore)

"Hardwood Floors" opens more sparsely than any Annuals track. Its threadbare lament comes wrapped into a metaphor of a leaky roof and a floor that, as Adam Baker moans, "swells and moans like it hurts." Likewise, the song soon swells into a swooning, aching mélange of ethereal harmonies and understated guitars that weave into the song's texture. One of the band's most down-to-earth moments, "Hardwood Floors" serves as a departure from the cosmically minded eccentricities that made Annuals into blogger favorites. This is a level of nuance and maturity that promises the band's best work might still be ahead of it. —Bryan Reed

Photo by Michael Triplett

THE CURTAINS OF NIGHT

Download "Total Domination"

(from Lost Houses; Holidays for Quince Records)

In the addictive Internet game Dino-Run, a player adopts the character of a raptor-like dinosaur fleeing imminent extinction by roiling currents of flaming asteroid debris and suffocating smoke. Try playing Dino-Run with "Total Domination" by The Curtains of Night, the titanic Carrboro duo, on repeat at full volume. With its martial percussion and chugging, tar-thick riff, the beast tumbles onward. Its steady, unilateral movement stalls at 2:20, as singer/ guitarist Nora Rogers howls and the amplifier suspends in a blitz of buzz. It's the sort of thing that makes one fear for the end of days, and the duo does little to assuage said fears, rolling into a slow—even glacial—second movement and leaving us, the listeners, feeling a little like Dino-Run's ultimately hopeless protagonist. That is, totally overwhelmed by the sheer immensity of the surroundings. —Bryan Reed

Photos by D.L. Anderson

THE DIRTY LITTLE HEATERS

Download "Untitled"

(from Fatty Don't Feel Good 7"; Churchkey Records)

Behold the might of The Dirty Little Heaters, a powerful trio whose diminutive name does anything but justice to the heft of its sound. That sound is something like the greasiest, ballsiest garage-punk band in the darkest, smokiest dive bar you've ever encountered, fronted by Grace Slick. Indeed Heaters' frontwoman Reese McHenry carries that same depth and richness in her howls and croons, making her voice the band's centerpiece. This shouldn't discount the band's buzzing groove-punk, which on this B-side rides a spring-loaded bassline through sheets of amp-fuzz and a battery of drums. Just know that it's all therw clearing the way for McHenry's soul-inflected wonder. —Bryan Reed

DOUBLE NEGATIVE

Download "Raw Energy EP"

(from Raw Energy EP; Sorry State Records)

Double Negative is easily one of America's greatest current punk bands. This, the titular A-side to the band's clear-vinyl 7-inch record, should be all the proof one needs: It's a snarling explosion of scorched larynx howls and rocket-fuel riffs introduced by a series of cascading feedback flares and interrupted only two brief guitar divebombs. True purists recognize the template being stretched in new, exciting directions, while those only able to handle limp replications of Black Flag songs are left to cower in fear. Indeed, "Raw Energy EP" (and the remainder of the Raw Energy EP) hits these ears sounding as vital and dangerous as virgin spins of Damaged. —Bryan Reed

KOOLEY HIGH

Download "Kool With It"

(from Summer Sessions EP; self-released)

A fitting introduction to Kooley High, "Kool With It" rides a hydraulic beat, bass bouncing across bold horn samples, hot and thick as summer air. MCs Rapsody, Charlie Smarts and Tab-One trade lines, referencing Family Guy in their lyrics and Digable Planets in their easy chemistry. Certainly, this is as clear a mission statement as any the group could've offered—to be, as Rapsody boats in the hook, "so K-O-O-L/ Y'all better ask 'cuz y'all can't tell." Simple, direct and effective credo established? Check. —Bryan Reed

VALIENT THORR

Download "I Hope the Ghosts of the Dead Haunt Yr Soul Forever"

(from Immortalizer; Volcom Entertainment)

Metallica released an album this year, and people said it was a return to form. I don't buy that because Valient Thorr also released an album, Immortalizer, this year: It's not that Valient Thorr sounds like Metallica used to, but the Venusian heshers are so saturated with that boozy righteousness of golden-age thrash that it doesn't feel unreasonable to at least put them in league with the old guys. Valient Thorr's sinuous dual lead guitar's slice razor sharp, harmonious lines through low-end rumbles and the vaguely melodic growls of gruff frontman Valient Himself. This punk-metal anthem, as with its predecessors, is a call to action: to mosh, to skate, to chug a beer, to fold the freakin' laundry. What you do doesn't matter as much as the idea that you're doing something. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 12/10/08

*note: the Indy site offers a .zip download of all 40 songs featured in the newspaper's year-end round-up of local songs. I highly recommend checking it out.

The Mighty Underdogs - Droppin' Science Fiction

2008-12-06T18:49:00.001-05:00

The Mighty Underdogs
Droppin’ Science Fiction

[Definitive Jux; 2008]

----
Styles: hip-hop
Others: Blackalicious, Latryx, Crown City Rockers
Links: The Mighty Underdogs - Definitive Jux

The occasionally brilliant, mostly spotty debut LP from The Mighty Underdogs is exactly the kind of record the digital music industry needs to justify the movement from albums to singles. Droppin’ Science Fiction will undoubtedly work its way into my distant memory, for no good reason other than my reluctance to press the skip button — not to mention that I’d need a skip button at all, which is to say that there are some clunkers here.

There are some superlative tracks, however; “Gunfight” finds Mighty Underdogs MCs Gift of Gab (Blackalicious) and Lateef The Truthspeaker (Latryx) bookending an MF Doom verse, with Headnodic’s grinding, tense soundscapes and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly sample rolling tumbleweed-like through the song’s Old West narrative: a delightfully escapist variation on hip-hop’s shoot-’em-up tropes. This is followed by another standout in “ILL Vacation,” a series of warp-speed tall-tales swaggering with ample braggadocio among lounge-y horns, cartoonish effects, and a beat that grooves like hotel-lobby funk. Similarly, “Aye” is an effectively lusty ode to feminine allure. In these finer moments, Gab and Lateef sling syllables with superhuman elasticity and noteworthy wordplay — virtues well-known to their current fans — while Headnodic (who made his name with Crown City Rockers) matches spring-loaded beats and clever associative sounds to the flabbergasting flow of his MCs.

Yet, for each of these highlights, there’s a much weaker counterpart. “So Sad” exploits the Jamaican accents of Julian and Damien Marley to assert some sort of faux-authenticity in the record’s obligatory ‘conscious’ cut. Elsewhere, “Folks” ditches the Underdogs’ effervescent energy and sense of fun for lite-funk guitar and drowsy delivery — solid, yes, but uninspiring and tragically misplaced on what could have been an explosive, completely enrapturing record.

Indeed, it seems that the greatest strength of The Mighty Underdogs is, predictably, in the established strengths of its members, and in giving all involved a chance to play with lighthearted, even cartoonish themes for the sake of effective escapism and lyrical gymnastics. It’s when the coulda-been-supergroup punts for variety that Droppin’ Science Fiction is at its most dull and uninspired, which is a shame for a group with so much inherent talent.

1. Monster 2. Hands In The Air 3. So Sad (ft. Julian Marley and Damian Marley) 4. Gunfight (ft. MF Doom) 5. ILL Vacation (ft. Lyrics Born) 6. Science Fiction 7. Laughing At You (ft. Casual) 8. Escape (ft. Mr. Lif and Akrobatik) 9. Doglude 10. Folks 11. UFC Remix (cuts by DJ Shadow) 12. Want You Back 13. Aye 14. Warwalk (ft. Chali 2Na, Raashan Ahmad, Tash and Zion) 15. Victorious

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes 12/5/08

VISITING ACT | Between The Buried And Me

2008-12-03T19:04:00.001-05:00

VISITING ACT | Between the Buried and Me

Not Toying Around: Between the Buried and Me kicks Guitar Hero ass

BY BRYAN REED

Modern Metalurgists BTB&M
Austin Reich

Guitar Hero threatens to destroy the very model upon which it's based. It's a heavy blow to nerd-dependent genres like progressive rock and heavy metal, whose mandated levels of instrumental proficiency can only be mastered by those with superhuman levels of singular focus.

But where the musically-inclined geeks of yore might've logged thousands of man-hours practicing scales and devouring Tolkien, or tuning their drum heads between chapters of The Fountainhead, today's Pages and Pearts are mashing five buttons on a plastic SG to play "Through the Fire and the Flames" on expert.

Thank God, then, for the North Carolinian reinventors of metalcore, known collectively as Between the Buried and Me, who keep the flame of ostentatious musicianship alive, and who undoubtedly spent their formative years forging an intimate relationship with their instruments — not their TVs. The quintet's latest studio album, Colors, skates through melodic, European-style metal, Queen bombast, jazzy, Pink Floydian texture, and Rush-esque prog rock — usually within the span of one epic song.

Frontman Tommy Rogers claims the point of Colors was to create an album, not a collection of songs, but a singular piece meant to be appreciated as a whole. Largely, he and his band succeeded. The songs move fluidly, but never predictably, weaving airy melody and brutal aggression together seamlessly. Singing swells into screaming and drop-tuned guitar chugging splinters off into whirlwinds of harmonic dual leads that would be impossible to replicate on a video game console.

They can, however be replicated live, as the recently released live CD/DVD iteration of Colors can attest. And on Sunday, they'll be replicated once more on the Music Farm stage. What's more though, is the audience will be reminded what it's like to watch real, preternaturally talented musicians — not just stereotypical rock avatars on a TV screen.

Between the Buried and Me performs at the Music Farm (32 Ann St., 843-853-3276) with support from He is Legend, Advent, and Nightbear on Sun. Dec. 7. General admission is $15 ($13 adv.). Visit www.musicfarm.com and www.betweentheburiedandme.com for more.

Charleston City Paper, 12/3/08

Sound Bites

2008-12-03T18:59:00.001-05:00

Wednesday

Farewell Flight — This pack of Pennsylvania popsters smacks itself with a self-deprecating label — “unmarketable since 2005” — that would be better suited for a grindcore band with a name like Colonic Malfeasance than a quartet with driftwood melodies that bridge Oasis and Coldplay with gentle melody and anthemic earnestness. But the dig suits Farewell Flight; the band’s navel-gazing aesthetic relies as much on self-effacing sarcasm and brokenheartedness as it does on handsome hooks and comfortable sonics. Farewell Flight’ll sing “America Will Surely Break Your Heart,” all starry-eyed piano plinks and eased-in shuffle, resigned to a broken world, the band wearing a smile like a wince, acting like maybe the song won’t be heartbreaking itself. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7:30 p.m., $5 ($8 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Friday

Evergreen Terrace

Evergreen Terrace — Anyone who’d recognize the Simpsons allusion that is Evergreen Terrace’s moniker (742 Evergreen Terrace is the fictional family’s home address in Springfield) will be familiar with the image of an enraged Homer strangling Bart for his mischief. That physical juxtaposition of Bart’s bratty irreverence and Homer’s explosive temper proves an apt descriptor for Floridian hardcore band Evergreen Terrace’s blend of snotty punk-metal (a la Strung Out) and blunt-force hardcore (a la Hatebreed). Each end of the band’s spectrum — the freewheeling melody and the guttural rhythms — is ever at arm’s length from the other. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7 p.m., $12 ($10 advance); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Saturday

Hot Lava Monster, The Stellas — Consider this, a double-header of small bands with huge aspirations, a case study within the post-apocalyptic landscape of Music 2.0. Both Columbia natives Hot Lava Monster and their Charlotte counterparts The Stellas serve their rock stylings like Top 40 platters-to-be, with Hot Lava Monster’s post-Incubus brood ‘n’ croon finding The Stellas power-pop crunch in a common ground of easy accessibility. With the rapidly disintegrating industry leaving the proverbial playing field effectively leveled for new artists, the idea of stardom has all but burned out — but that won’t stop these bands from reaching for it anyway. It’s both this bill’s blessing and its curse: Both bands, despite potential, still lack the megawatt star power of banner acts and allow easy approachability by taking few risks — and that’s not necessarily a pejorative.

Hot Lava Monster

This bill smacks of before-they-were-big opportunity, both bands churning out compressed guitar rock built for something bigger. To fall back on a nearly riskless baseball analogy, even minor league teams play in stadiums. And now, more than ever before, it’s up to the fans to decide whether these bands meet their audibly lofty goals. Is Hot Lava Monster the next Hinder? Are The Stellas the next All-American Rejects? The ball’s in your court, reader. B. Reed
Art Bar: 9 p.m., $5; 929-0198, artbarsc.com.

Thank God — As a teenager, notorious serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer would kill animals (before he moved on to young men), obsessed with the idea of seeing them inside out — as much the same way Columbia’s Thank God treats rock ‘n’ roll. The quintet tugs conventional notions of melody and structure back in on themselves until what’s left is a seething, bloody mess of dissonant charges, tangled entrails of guitar melodies wrapping around bludgeoning, unpredictable bursts of drums and strangulated gasps. Still, though, the ensuing mayhem creates some sort of mangled beauty, its brutal genius unspooling like so many yards of raw viscera. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 8 p.m., $2 ($3 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Free Times, 12/3/08

Kinnikinnik

2008-11-30T14:13:00.002-05:00

Get your own - Open publication

Flip to page 46 to read my recent feature on the Charlotte-based recording label/collective Kinnikinnik Records in the December issue of Uptown Magazine.

Sunn O))) - Domkirke

2008-11-25T11:42:00.000-05:00

MUSIC REVIEWS

Sunn O)))
Dømkirke

[Southern Lord; 2008]

----
Styles: drone, metal
Others: Earth, Mayhem, Xasthur
Links: Stephen O’Malley - Southern Lord

A faceless audience applauds at the onset of the live performance in a Bergen, Norway cathedral that was to become Dømkirke, the limited-run double-LP from the doom-drone masterminds Sunn O))). They’re silent until the very end. Post-production editing, perhaps, but I’d prefer to imagine that the audience was too awestruck, too paralyzed with fear and admiration to provide any more than its eager claps at the introduction and its rush of cathartic applause at the conclusion of the hour-long running time.

The strength of Dømkirke (and, it should be noted, of Sunn O)))’s catalog) is the recognition of the drone not as an end unto itself, but as a foundation from which to build and recede these long-form campaigns of volume, texture, and dynamic. Here, the confluence of ground-rattling bottom end, burbles of feedback skuzz, barrel-chested brass, the mammoth, immovable presence of the cathedral’s God-knows-how-old pipe organ, and the haunting, Gregorian-inflected moans and summonings of Atilla Csihar (of the infamous black metal band Mayhem) becomes a palpable entity — one, which even at moderate volume, was very literally shaking the contents of my countertops. What is captured on Dømkirke is Sunn O))) reaching for something timeless, its medieval hues meeting 21st-century black metal and avant-noise — more akin to black metal for its oppressiveness and fascination with all things old (olde?). This is an evocation, like a soothsayer’s prophesy of doom, despite the intelligible nature of Csihar’s moans and the abstract construction of the four cuts (all of which stretch easily beyond the 13-minute mark).

Although the mood is uniquely ancient and ominous (pre-apocalyptic vs. post-), and Dømkirke’s use of venue as instrument is noteworthy to say the least, little else will sound new to anyone familiar with heavy drone. But that’s not the point, either. The draw here is a subtle fluctuation that, spun over time, becomes as urgent and dynamic as anything can be. Chords plunge and tumble into a rumbling wash of blackened tone as new textures say their piece and plunge, in turn, into the abyss. As the sonic siege reaches its most vicious climax near the end of “Masks The Ætmospheres,” one couldn’t be blamed for trembling — be it from emotional impact or the sheer density of the tones. Without qualification, the spatial element of Dømkirke is its most impressive. It’s hard not to react physically and audibly, as the audience did, to the subsiding of Sunn O)))’s avalanche of ominous, voluminous sound. It’s an exhausting, albeit exhilarating experience.

1. Why Dost Thou Hide Thyself In Clouds? 2. Cannon 3. Cymatics 4. Masks The Ætmospheres

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 11/25/08

Wallpaper - On The Chewing Gum Ground

2008-11-19T12:52:00.001-05:00

Wallpaper
On The Chewing Gum Ground
[K; 2008]

----
Styles: rock ‘n’ roll
Others: Ramones, The Kinks, The Vaselines
Links: Wallpaper - K

At first glance, it’d be easy to toss On The Chewing Gum Ground, and Wallpaper, the band responsible for it, into a pile with all the other non-pretentious, “it’s just rock ‘n’ roll” bands to enter the ears of the post-Beatles listening public. But that wouldn’t be quite right. The usual touchstones are scattered here and there: a little Ramones sneer, a Who swagger, a Kinks jangle, a Kingsmen howl. And, seeing as this is a K Records release, there’s just a touch of twee-pop’s starry-eyed earnestness — see “Pop Rocket” and its sock-hop chant-along for proof.

But despite its influences, worn as visibly as a t-shirt, Wallpaper has a level of cheeky self-awareness that makes a route dismissal of the band as “good old-fashioned rock music” miss the mark. The verses in “Pop Rocket” alone name drop Elvis Presley, Kurt Cobain, Bob Dylan, and John Lennon as apparitions appearing in dreams. It’s as if by checking names off the list, Wallpaper is asserting its place among these heroes — or at least among their most ardent fans. Indeed, it often feels as though Wallpaper (like many of its potential fans, perhaps) wouldn’t mind being judged by its record collection. Still, it’s hard to say Wallpaper is merely a band playing the music its members want to hear, with nary a care of others’ opinions — basically, it’s hard to brush them off with a halfhearted, euphemistic description that functionally just calls the music boring.

The introduction of keyboard textures on “New California” and “Auto Bop” prevent the guitar pop formula from getting too overbearing, in the same way that elliptical songs like “New California” offset the artifice-as-art of referential cuts like “Pop Rocket” and “Rock & Roll World” (which references “Ringo, George, and John and Paul” right off the bat). As a whole, On The Chewing Gum Ground feels less like a replication or amalgamation of past sounds, and more like a continuation of them.

1. Auto Bop 2. Solar Panel Sleeve 3. Nod Off 4. Pop Rocket 5. Vertigo Jane 6. Shag Carpet 7. New California 8. Rock Collage 9. Bottom Top Blues 10. This Is The Chase 11. Deflated 12. Totalled 13. Total Explosion 14. Rock & Roll World

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 11/19/08

Hearing Aid

2008-11-12T22:57:00.000-05:00

YES, PLEASE

11.13 THE MOANERS/ THE TRAMPSKIRTS @ RESERVOIR

Here's a double bill of few-frills rock: Chatham County duo The Moaners takes the top slot with grimy guitar that spins through distortion that hangs in the air like moisture, big drums that barrel like a downhill semi, and lurching melodies that creak with swagger. The Moaners' last album, 2007's Blackwing Yalobusha, was recorded at the old Money Shot Studios in Yalobusha County, Miss., with Squirrel Nut Zipper and Buddy Guy sideman Jimbo Mathus on deck. Nashville's Trampskirts takes a decidedly more punk-rock approach, the quartet's full-band fury raging like a swamp-rock Distillers. Donations/ 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

INTRODUCING...

11.19 TEH VODAK @ NIGHTLIGHT

As they'd have you believe, Teh Vodak is both an up-and-coming rock band and a drunken mistake. The name, after all, is a misspelled tribute to the band's spirit of choice, and as they'd tell you, it stuck only after they misspelled it when starting a MySpace band profile. The truth is a bit more mundane. Teh Vodak formed from the (mostly online) meeting of Pink Flag's Betsy Shane and Blackstrap's Ben Donnelly. Oh, well: "If you wanna perpetuate the myth, I'm all for it," says Donnelly.

But the band's fabricated backstory fits the uninhibited rock sounds they're peddling. Donnelly's noisy, angular approach and Shane's pop propensities would never work together if both parties weren't up for (or under) some influence. "I think we end up with the sound that we're both going for," says Donnelly. More specifically, Wire's bristle, The Minutemen's jitters, and the pop-punk sugarbuzz of the late Be Your Own Pet, all parlayed through one drunken promise. With Alcazar Hotel and Joke & Jokes & Jokes at 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Sound Bites

2008-11-12T22:55:00.000-05:00

Wednesday

Brendan James — Brendan James, a former college a cappella singer turned piano-pop troubadour, hits New Brookland Tavern under an MTV banner. The long-running cable network’s lingering cultural relevance owes far more to the pseudo celebrities of The Hills than it does to alternative rock, but that suits James and his subtly dramatic, mostly mellow smooth jams just fine. His songs practically beg to soundtrack a sweeping panoramic shot that zooms into a crying blonde being consoled by her best friend — which is to say if you like Zach Braff movies, Frappuccinos or dudes in cable-knit sweaters, this’ll be right up your alley. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 8 p.m., $6; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Friday

Hollywood Undead

Hollywood Undead — Presumably, the masks worn by Hollywood Undead’s six members serve not only aesthetic purposes but are worn as physical manifestations of apology for the L.A. atrocity’s steaming pile of eight-years-too-late nu-metal excrement. The band’s best riff (from “Undead”) is stolen from Papa Roach’s “Last Resort.” The sextet’s (hurr, hurr, I said sex) rampant misogyny, homophobia (Aside: Where the hell is flippant use of the word “faggot” still acceptable?) and sophomoric sub-frat humor turn mindless songs into exercises in aural endurance. Now I’m just stuck debating whether Limp Bizkit or Insane Clown Posse makes a more apt reference, as though it even matters. This might well be the worst music I’ve ever heard. B. Reed
Headliners: 8 p.m., $12 ($10 advance); 796-2333, headlinerscolumbia.com.

Free Times, 11/12/08

8 Days A Week

2008-11-05T23:28:00.000-05:00

Wednesday 11.12

Chapel Hill
Harmute, Mary Johnson Rockers
Local 506—Openers Mary Johnson Rockers and Lafcadio supply soft, shuffling twang, making Harmute's mildly theatrical pop-rock the wild card here: With hardly a hint of country to its sound, Harmute's wistful piano-led songs blend equal parts Broadway ballad and lite-rock boogie. Lead singer Skylar Gudas sings in a warm way, while guitarist Jesse Wooten wraps his slightly nasal voice around Gudas' lower range. The voices earn prominent placement thanks to largely understated arrangements, punctuated with eager drum fills and tasteful strings. The 9 p.m. show is free, but donations will be collected for the Orange County Rape Crisis Center. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 11/05/08

I Was Totally Destroying It - Done Waiting EP

2008-11-05T23:26:00.001-05:00

I Was Totally Destroying It's Done Waiting

(self-released)

5 NOV 2008 • by Bryan Reed

Something happened to I Was Totally Destroying It in the past year, as though the band collectively decided its career had better be more than a few Cradle shows and local adulation (or derision, depending on whom you ask) after releasing its full-length debut in 2007. The tight, precise, polished power-pop the band peddles is the kind of ear-grabbing musical snowcone that many love, many love secretly, and many outwardly hate. This band could or should be famous, and its new, seven-track, MP3-for-free EP Done Waiting sounds refined enough to make for the big time. Whereas that first LP promised versatility at the risk of consistency, this EP finds the band, sonically at least, bursting with purpose. The debut's lighthearted momentariness gives way to a bolder push for something—anything—bigger.

In the process, some of the local allusions that made the debut a Triangle hit get lost, swapped for an elliptical songwriting tack that still suits the band's melodic propensities. Only "Teeth," with its snapped syllables and rhythmic bludgeon, cracks the sing-song mold, and even it swells into a milkshake-smooth chorus.

IWTDI's previous variety act comes folded into better textures beneath these focused tracks: No longer the chugging guitar-centrists of last year, the band stretches its range by adding acoustic plunking to the foreground of "The Masquerade" over the near-Theremin glow of Rachel Hirsh's keyboards. The album's most spacious track, it's a welcome contrast to the other tracks' large-venue ambition. Indeed, what's constant throughout is the record's clear ascendant aims, as if IWTDI got out of the basement and got dressed for a big-time job interview.

I Was Totally Destroying It plays Troika Music Festival at The Pinhook Saturday, Nov. 8, at 11 p.m. Tickets are $5. To download Done Waiting, visit reverbnation.com/iwastotallydestroyingit.

Independent Weekly, 11/05/08

Troika Music Festival

2008-11-05T23:18:00.002-05:00

Thursday, Nov. 6

DURHAM CENTRAL PARK (Foster Street)

⇒ Future Kings of Nowhere (8:30 p.m.) FKON's Shayne O'Neill pulls elements from a long line of songwriters: He gathers Blake Schwartzenbach's emotional clarity and metaphorical whims, Elvis Costello's hooks and sarcasm, John Darnielle's detailing eye, and Billy Bragg's knack for pulling universal truths from small experiences. All sung, it's what makes his busker-punk project one of the area's best. —BR

The Pinhook (117 W. Main St.)

Juan Huevos (9:45 p.m.) Juan Huevos' electro-fueled hip-hop floats brash come-ons and boasts over clipped samples and taut beats, balanced—to Huevos' benefit—with wit and self-awareness. —BR

Broad Street Cafe (1116 Broad St.)

Shakermaker (10 p.m.) Shakermaker's cool-breeze pop rock stays fresh thanks to touches of bluegrass twang and AM Gold gleam, using restraint and harmony like capital. —BR

Friday, Nov. 7

Carolina Theatre (309 W. Morgan St.)

⇒ The Rosebuds (10:45 p.m.) Now four LPs into a career, The Rosebuds is more confident, more assured and just plain better than ever before. The still-fresh Life Like is an effective synthesis of everything the band's done to date—jangle, pop, disco, dance, rock, roll, smile and sulk. —BR

Bull McCabe's (427 W. Main St.)

⇒ The Wigg Report (11:55 p.m.) Equal parts Beat Happening, Violent Femmes and Agent Orange, the Bull City trio throws eager sax and male-female vocal interplay into its jittery acoustic punk. Scrappy and fine. —BR

Saturday, Nov. 8

The Pinhook (117 W. Main St.)

I Was Totally Destroying It (11 p.m.) In the year that's passed since IWTDI released its out-of-nowhere full-length gem, the band has grown its occasionally wiry, hook-laden power-pop into a full-bodied force of stadium-sized proportions. For more, see page 40. —BR

Duke Coffeehouse (Crowell Building, Duke University's East Campus)

⇒ Midtown Dickens (10:45 p.m.) A Midtown Dickens show is a front-porch parade, gallivanting from off-the-cuff humor to unexpected poignancy, both exuding the same best-friend intimicay. These days, expert more instruments, better playing and the same ragged charm. —BR

⇒ The Curtains of Night (10 p.m.) The monolithic riffage of the two-piece Curtains of Night offers a bigger and bolder bludgeon than most bands with twice the personnel. The duo's modal shifts turn blazing riffs into a monumental scorched earth campaign—an endlessly captivating, if deliberately paced, siege of burning amp-buzz and jagged rhythm. —BR

The Sirens Lounge (1803 W. Markham Blvd.)

Nathan Oliver (10:15 p.m.) The caffeinated soul of Nathan Oliver sings from the intersection of wistful crooning and manic howls, coming together in a settled, melodic way. —BR

Rat Jackson (8:30 p.m.) Booze and broads provide more than enough grist for the mill of Rat Jackson's tightly wound blues explosion. —BR

The Marvell Event Center (119 W. Main St.)

Dr. Powerful (9:45 p.m.) Dr. Powerful has more in common with Polvo than just drummer Eddie Watkins. It approaches rock head-on, warping guitars as an accent, not a focal point. —BR

Independent Weekly, 11/05/08

Sound Bites

2008-11-05T23:11:00.001-05:00

Wednesday

The Toasters — Saying The Toasters, the band formed in 1982 by British expat Rob “Bucket” Hingley, are responsible for bringing ska stateside isn’t much of an overstatement. Much of the credit (or blame — your call) for ska’s momentary ubiquity in the ’90s belongs to the long-running band and its brass-and-organ accented take on the genre. Indeed, the band owes a heavy debt to forbears The Specials and The English Beat — to say nothing of their Jamaican forbears — but The Toasters effectively imported the two-tone sound and aesthetic, opening the doors for a legion of followers. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7:30 p.m., $10; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Thursday

The Western Civilization — Houston’s The Western Civilization brings with it a metronomic hypnosis born of steady drum loops and simply constructed arrangements that open plenty of space for two- and three-part vocal counterpoints. The young quartet’s chamber-charm holds water, but the songs don’t vary much in structure or dynamic. Still, the band’s sound is full enough to allow for interesting lines to emerge with gracious subtlety. It’s enough to keep the songs moving fluidly, avoiding tedium and evolving an earnest appeal in the band’s few-frills approach to acoustic-based indie rock. B. Reed
The Whig: 7 p.m., free; 931-8852, thewhig.org.

Sunday

MC Chris — Lumped somewhat unfairly in the wave of nerd-core rappers, Brooklyn’s MC Chris turned small-scale notoriety (as a voice on Adult Swim’s Aqua Teen Hunger Force) into a cache of singles, including the Star Wars-referencing “Fette’s Vette” — hence the nerd-core associations. Mostly, though, MC Chris is a comic emcee, slinging his upper-register voice through a minefield of rhyming one-liners and energized beats. He’s funny, for sure, but he’s also a force to be reckoned with behind the mic, flowing with ease and geek-chic confidence as he covers topics as wide-ranging as sex-acts and cough-syrup inebriation. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7:30 p.m., $12 ($10 advance); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Tuesday

The Pink Spiders — “Little Razorblade,” from The Pink Spiders’ 2006 album, Teenage Graffiti — produced by The Cars’ Ric Ocasek, no less — is still the best example of the Nashville band’s occasionally brilliant blend of early-’80s power-pop and post-millennial pop-punk. Ascendant synths, mildly snotty vocals and thick walls of guitar, all soldered together with sudden vamps and effervescent energy, make the song a near-perfect chunk of bubblegum. Elsewhere, these elements don’t always seem to mesh as consistently, but at the moments when they do, The Pink Spiders pose like they could be the heir to The Cars throne.  B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7:30 p.m., $12 ($10 advance); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Free Times, 11/05/08

Thursday/Envy - Split

2008-11-05T11:32:00.000-05:00

Thursday / Envy
Split

[Temporary Residence, Ltd.; 2008]

----
Styles: post-rock, post-hardcore
Others: Explosions In The Sky, U.S. Christmas, At The Drive-In
Links: Thursday - Envy - Temporary Residence

This might be the first time I’ve been able to say that I like a Thursday record without feeling obligated to stammer out a qualification. The band’s early work was solid but blunt, relying far too much on frontman Geoff Rickly’s divisive yelps. He’s always had a knack for sounding on the verge of a breakdown, something that doesn’t necessarily hold up for the duration of an album. So, after teetering on the edge of a breakup, Thursday returned with 2006’s A City By The Light Divided, which found the band employing more subtle dynamics and fuller sonic textures to Rickly’s consistently touching lyrics. But the Thursday that fans had fallen for was gone, replaced by a half-neutered rock band that sounded ready for their windblown, mountaintop closeup. It just didn’t sound desperate anymore.

Two years down the road, Thursday finally comes of age with the A-side to this split LP with Japan’s Envy. In four songs, Thursday prove their ambition, but also unleash the urgency that drew listeners to the band in the first place. Opener “As He Climbed The Dark Mountain” is the band at their finest. Charging out of the gates with an avalanche of guitars and drums, Rickly lets his brittle voice loose, carrying the song with a newfound melodic confidence, but never losing touch with his emotional heft. He’s pleading, desperate, and excitable, reminding us that ‘emo’ is supposed to stand for ‘emotion’ — and he’s in no short supply. A stream of moaning guitar swirls around the song’s final act, and Rickly, sounding as though he’s leveled himself, drops to a whisper before disappearing altogether in the stellar instrumental “In Silence.” Without Rickly, Thursday are forced to delve even deeper into post-rock dynamics, with nervous electronic glitches coursing through the song’s trudging, fuzz-baked duration. Piano and guitar noise keep things aloft, while a syncopated drum base keeps the song staggering and — as is once again becoming customary for the band — urgent. “In Silence” later sees a re-imagined remix treatment from Anthony Molina of Mercury Rev, becoming “Appeared And Was Gone.” And, simply put, Thursday have put together their best work here.

Envy, then, have a lot to live up to on their half of the LP, and the Japanese quintet delivers. The serenity of the opening moments of “An Umbrella Fallen Into Fiction,” where a buried xylophone melody seeps through suspended guitar tones and electronic clatter, gives way to a droning buildup four minutes in, and the song rolls into a heaving, layered mass. Elsewhere, the band spins post-hardcore timing into mud-caked sludge, meshing post-metal’s smoldering heaviness with a ferocity born of punk. Melodies worm through the mire, but nourish the songs into fertile bludgeons. “Pure Birth and Loneliness” begins with a meditative passage that snowballs into the song’s desolate belly, guitars soaring on sustained notes and down-tempo melodies playing counterpoint to a churning rhythmic base. These are standard genre tropes used competently, but not inventively.

Envy certainly do their fair share of the legwork in making the split a success, but it’s the surprise of Thursday’s evolution that provides the richest reward.

1. As He Climbed The Dark Mountain (Thursday) 2. In Silence (Thursday) 3. An Absurd and Unrealistic Dream of Peace (Thursday) 4. Appeared and was Gone (Thursday) 5. An Umbrella Fallen Into Fiction (Envy) 6. Isolation of a Light Source (Envy) 7. Pure Birth and Loneliness (Envy)

by Bryan Reed

Grampall Jookabox - Ropechain

2008-11-03T11:51:00.001-05:00

MUSIC REVIEWS

Grampall Jookabox
Ropechain

[Asthmatic Kitty; 2008]

----
Styles: psychedelic pop
Others: Beck, of Montreal, Animal Collective
Links: Grampall Jookabox - Asthmatic Kitty

For many of the bands with whom Grampall Jookabox is likely to be compared, sonic experimentation is as much artifice as art, a mask to hide largely empty songs behind. It makes for easy infatuation, but tends to offer diminishing returns as the layers of sound are peeled back to reveal a vacuous core of meaningless gibberish. What places Ropechain, Grampall’s second release for Sufjan Stevens’ Asthmatic Kitty label, above its emotionally vacant peers is a willingness to trade drugged-out euphoric rambling with tangible anxiety.

The album rides its paranoia into absurdist tomes on life’s biggest questions: God, love, birth, death, madness, and Michael Jackson. “Strike Me Down” addresses man’s relation to God in a fearful, nervous lament. Repetition plays an important role here, like a crazed rambling. Dave Adamson, Grampall’s singular figure, croons, “Oh, God is comin’ back/ He spoke to me” over and over again in a brittle falsetto, breaking only to exclaim, “Strike me down/ Strike me down.” Backwards tape loops and disembodied voices swirl around Adamson’s anxious, solitary speaker as drums clatter out a repetitive stomp. “I Will Save Young Michael” and “I’m Absolutely Freaked Out” both pose the King of Pop as a vehicle for exploring mental instability.

Indeed, there’s humor in Ropechain’s paranoia, but like most good jokes, it’s a way to prod at some hidden truth we can all acknowledge. This device is perhaps most notable on lead single “The Girl Ain’t Preggers,” which, with its funky bassline and declaration of “Don’t it make you feel good when the girl ain’t preggers,” rings true enough to warrant at least a smirk. But the song also rolls itself into a surrealist demonstration of exactly the type of anxiety — again, expressed with jarring drums and a spectral choir of wordless vocals — that the idea of an unexpected birth can create. And, sure enough, the song flips itself around from “I need some money right now/ Ain’t got no money I can’t pay for no baby” to “I love a baby face/ I love a baby face, I want to kiss the baby,” and from “Don’t it make you feel good” to “Don’t it make you feel sad when the girl ain’t preggers.” The duality of a potential father’s emotions, both sides equally nervous, is conveyed in the song.

Here, surrealism is a vehicle to reach uncomfortable truths or to address the anxieties that plague us all. Sonic embellishment is, instead of a collection of pretty sounds mashed together, a mode to manipulate dynamic and mood. Adamson claims the album was influenced by meditations on madness and paranormal activity, and it shows. Otherworldly voices moan and squawk. Nervous energy drives the record between straightforwardness and opaque abstraction. But together, the sum is a fully realized psychological exploration. When the layers of sound are peeled back, you’ve still got Adamson’s lonely paranoia. But without the ghosts he calls company, the vision is much more chilling.

1. Black Girls 2. Let’s Go Mad Together 3. Ghost 4. Old Earth, Wash My Beat 5. The Girl Ain’t Preggers 6. You Will Love My Room 7. I Will Save Young Michael 8. The One Thing 9. We Know We Might Be Fucked 10. Strike Me Down 11. I’m Absolutely Freaked Out

by Bryan Reed

Shuffle Magazine, issue 4

2008-11-03T11:09:00.003-05:00

Get your own - Open publication

Check out my cover story on The Rosebuds, plus features on Lost In The Trees and Death Becomes Even The Maiden, reviews, blurbs and more.

Vinyl: It's Back

2008-10-31T12:41:00.004-04:00

Get your own - Open publication

Flip to page 36 for my story about vinyl records and Charlotte's Lunchbox Records in Uptown Magazine's November 2008 issue.

Written by Bryan Reed Pictures:Fenix Fotography

Perched behind his old Apple laptop and a glass counter filled with stickers and buttons emblazoned with the names of various punk bands, Scott Wishart is an anomaly. Lunchbox Records, the Central Avenue storefront he owns, is one of an ever-slimming number of truly independent record stores. As the posters for local shows and indie-label releases plastered on the windows of the shop can attest, Lunchbox isn’t the place to go to pick up the latest T-Pain or Taylor Swift CDs. But that’s precisely what drives Wishart’s business.

As a specialty shop, Lunchbox has been largely unaffected by the record industry’s catastrophic fall from grace that began around the turn of the millennium when a kid named Shawn Fanning developed a little computer program he called Napster. Internet file-sharing boomed, then gave way to digital music sales through services such as iTunes. All the while, CD sales busted with little help from the antagonizing efforts of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). Big box stores like Best Buy and Wal-Mart continually downsize the floor space devoted to shelving music. At large, the future of recorded music looks dismal.

But at Lunchbox, business is doing just fine, thanks in no small part to the store’s unique and eclectic offerings—and helped along by a surprising resurgence in the popularity of the most outmoded of recording formats, vinyl records. Wishart, who has been in the music retail business since 1997, says, “I’ve always bought records, but when I first started, records were on the way out. Labels, especially big ones, weren’t even releasing them and it kind of continued that way until a few years ago.”

Today, I’m talking to Wishart with an armload of new (or, at least, new to me) records stretching the flimsy handles of the plastic bag in which they’re ensconced. He’s blasting Old Wounds, the latest CD from the Louisville, Ky.-based punk band Young Widows, through the store’s speakers as customers thumb through shelves for hidden treasures. In the course of our conversation, Wishart sells three copies of the Charlotte-based band Yardwork’s self-titled EP to three separate customers. He sells an armload of obscure metal LPs to a couple who sheepishly admit to one another, to Wishart, and to me that they didn’t intend to spend so much money. They couldn’t help it. “People like to own things,” Wishart says. “Even though you can go and download anything in the world, if you want to look at the art or something physical, it’s a nicer, more tangible product.”

“Me buying 1,000 records is just like some guy that has 200 pairs of shoes in his closet,” he adds. “It’s just different consumer addictions.”

And he’s happy to be the well-stocked dealer-of-choice for the Queen City’s discerning music junkies. As record stores close nationwide, Lunchbox keeps its doors open. As the record industry as we know it spirals down a slipstream, wings ablaze, Lunchbox’s CD sales stay constant, and even rise some months. And with vinyl’s new vogue status, Lunchbox reaps the benefits of being one of only a small number of retail outlets in town carrying the hip toy. Says Wishart, “Most stores it’s like less than 10 percent of their sales, and for me it’s like around 40 percent from [vinyl] records.”

Success stories like Lunchbox are beginning to perk journalists’ ears nationwide, too. News stories in big-time publications like Time, The Chicago Tribune, Wired Magazine, and NPR all point to a dramatic resurgence in vinyl’s viability as a recording format. Industry statistics showed a 15.4 percent increase in vinyl sales from 2006 to 2007—from 858,000 records to 990,000, overall. But that doesn’t include small stores like Lunchbox. More telling are the record pressing plants that can’t keep up with demand, the small record labels offering vinyl editions of albums also available on CD or digital formats, or the mere fact that retail giants like Best Buy and Amazon.com have begun making room for vinyl records.
What then would bring a younger generation of music fans back to the format their parents discarded years ago? Well, price could be a factor. Used records often sell for much less than a new—or even a used—CD would. While visiting Lunchbox, I bought used vinyl copies of Willie Nelson’s classic Red Headed Stranger and Marvin Gaye’s essential Let’s Get It On for a paltry $6 each. There’s the collectible nature of records, as well. The cover art is much bigger, making them seem more like a keepsake for many consumers. Records also tend to be more limited in quantity than their five-inch counterparts. Most records are limited to only a few thousand—even for bigger releases. Boutique records are often made into limited-edition items with mere hundreds of copies in existence. Plus, say some consumers, a record just sounds better.

Or does it? “If you have good equipment, yes it does sound better,” says Wishart, “But, I mean, most people have crappy record players. If you get one of those crappy USB Ion turntables, and you play it on that, versus a CD player through a real stereo, the CD player’s gonna sound way better.”

He adds, “Then people talk about, ‘Oh, I like the pops and clicks of vinyl.’ If you have pops and clicks in your vinyl you have scratched up records and you’re not taking care of them. That’s not what records are about. Good records sound good. If you have pops and clicks then you’re doing something wrong. That’s like saying, ‘I got a hamburger and there’s pieces of bone in it, but I like that because it makes it more homey.’”

So without audiophile equipment or misguided notions of aural “authenticity,” it would seem consumers are left with little incentive to purchase a record over a CD. And that’s why many records offer a little something extra. On their latest Top 100-charting album, The Second Gleam, Concord’s favorite sons The Avett Brothers offer two extra songs exclusive to the LP version. Many record labels also have begun to include coupons for free mp3 downloads with LPs, giving customers the improved sound quality and novelty of owning vinyl and the convenience of the digital format.

But even at a vinyl-centric store like Lunchbox, CDs are still the most prevalent format. “There’s only been a couple months where I’ve sold more records than CDs,” says Wishart. Despite the Chicken Little claims of music industry reports, it seems unlikely the CD will ever disappear entirely. “They’re too cheap to make,” Wishart opines, suggesting the five-inch plastic discs might eventually assume an entirely promotional role, or become the provenance of small, local bands eager to get their music out there quickly and cheaply.

This, of course, leaves a wide opportunity for vinyl to reassume its position as the dominant physical format for audio—especially in the realm of independent music. “Some genres never stopped making records,” Wishart says. “All the indie rock stuff always came on records…if you go down to Reggae Central they still sell 45s that they get from Jamaica because they never stopped making them.” And as more and more independent—and even local—bands begin to release records, it certainly seems to be possible. The Raleigh-based punk band Double Negative released its debut, The Wonderful And Frightening World of Double Negative, exclusively on vinyl in 2007. It sold out its initial pressing in a matter of days. Wishart runs a boutique label that has released 7-inch EPs from local bands Obstruction and Calabi Yau. And the sale of turntables has increased, as has their availability in mainstream outlets like Urban Outfitters and Target.

Already, vinyl records have moved beyond the provenance of obsessive collectors and teenagers unearthing their parents’ dusty collections in the attic. The once-obsolete format, it seems, is regaining its footing in a very real way. Just spend some time in Lunchbox Records watching the customers coming in waves as they file through the store’s inventory for a dusty classic or a shrink-wrapped new release to fill some 12-inch hole.

N.C. Releases (available on vinyl) to check out
The Avett Brothers – The Second Gleam (Ramseur)
A spare affair from Scott and Seth Avett brings a subdued sound, led by banjo, guitar and the brothers’ preternatural harmonies, to this six-song mini-album. The vinyl version boasts two additional songs.
RIYL: The Louvin Brothers, Wilco, Bill Monroe

Bellafea – Cavalcade (Southern)
The long-gestating full-length debut from the Chapel Hill-based post-punk trio provides an album bristling with energy. It’s frantic enough to provide an adrenaline rush, but also reined in enough to provide moments of tender beauty.
RIYL: Polvo, Fugazi, Liz Phair

The Foreign Exchange – Leave It All Behind (Nicolay Music)
The second collaboration between Wilmington-based producer Nicolay and Durham-based MC Phonte (of Little Brother). Soulful, intelligent hip-hop laced with ’80s synths and an easy-going attitude.
RIYL: Little Brother, Kanye West, Common

Lost In The Trees – All Alone In An Empty House (Trekky)
Using folk-based pop songs rife with lush flourishes of orchestral texture and instrumentation as a template, Lost In The Trees creates a dynamic well-suited to frontman Ari Picker’s reedy soliloquies. Vinyl includes CD and mp3 download.
RIYL: Arcade Fire, Andrew Bird, Danny Elfman

Obstruction – Obstruction 7” (Lunchbox)
Old school hardcore punk from the Charlotte band. Five songs of pedal-to-the-metal angst with a deceptive complexity and unshakable groove. The 7-inch record is packaged with a CD-R.
RIYL: Minor Threat, Black Flag, Bad Brains

The Rosebuds – Life Like (Merge)
The fourth full-length album from the Raleigh pop act finds the band focusing its lyrics on the natural surroundings of N.C., and its music on rhythmically engaging, guitar-pop—a contrast to 2007’s dance-ready Night of the Furies.
RIYL: The Smiths, The National, (early) Radiohead

Waumiss – Waumiss (Little Ramona)
Clarque Blomquist, the bassist of Chapel Hill pop-rock outfit The Kingsbury Manx, lets down his hair with the assistance of his wife Caroline. The resultant LP is a wrangling of reggae, Phil Spector- esque pop, and electronica. Comes with mp3 download.
RIYL: The Ronettes, Lee “Scratch” Perry, (late) Radiohead

~ Bryan Reed

Uptown Magazine, Nov. 2008

Blurt Digizine, 11/08

2008-10-31T01:25:00.002-04:00

Jay Reatard
Matador Singles 08
(Matador)
www.matadorrecords.com

6If this chronological collection of this year’s batch of singles from prolific punk Jay Reatard is any indication, there should be great expectations. The album marks a steady ascent, some steps higher than others. Opener “See/Saw” is a ’77 rehash that on its own does little to put Reatard above any number of punks playing shitty dive bars and putting out a whole mess of 7-inchers. But the collection gradually progresses, through a palpably paranoid cover of Deerhunter’s "Fluorescent Grey” (where Reatard’s adenoidal yelp is chillingly nightmarish) to the almosttwee,
acoustic-led “No Time” and the closing superlative, “I’m Watching You.” With its eerie synth chords backing Reatard’s distant vocals, the latter song’s narrative sucker-punch (from love song to hate song in the twist of a verse) is made all the more meaningful. Reatard’s career has begun to separate itself from the old school punk revival into something that stands on its own
jittery, nihilistic legs.
STANDOUT TRACKS:
“Fluorescent Grey,” “No Time,” “I’m Watching You” BRYAN REED

Fucked Up
The Chemistry of Common Life
(Matador)
www.matadorrecords.com

8As a genre dedicated to its roots, punk often walks a razor-thin line between blind copycat-ism or heavy-handed cross-pollination. Toronto’s Fucked Up takes that line, forges it into a blade and uses it to spill blood on any existing preconceptions of what punk rock is supposed to be—when really, punk was never supposed to be anything. Who cares hardcore punk’s greatest hope unveils its Matador debut with a flute solo? It fits the song (“Son The Father”), which rolls out of that feather-light opening into a palm-muted chugging so insistent you’d think you were running stairs with Rocky for the whole of its slow crescendo. And who cares if the production values fit a band whose label boasts major distribution? Again, the music is only helped by Fucked Up’s creative decisions. It’s always seemed as if Fucked Up was as musically thoughtful as it was urgent and indignant. The Chemistry of Common Life is no disappointment. This band
doesn’t fit any mold, just squeezes and rip its way into any it finds, like a fat dude in Joey Ramone’s jeans.
STANDOUT TRACKS: “Son The Father,” “No Epiphany” BRYAN REED

Blurt Digizine, 11/08, pg. 53

Kimya Dawson - Alphabutt

2008-10-31T01:21:00.000-04:00

Kimya Dawson

Alphabutt

(K)

www.krecs.com

Kimya Dawson's appeal has always resided in the child-like vulnerability in her songs, moving from poignant, affecting lines to non-sequitur word play and back again. So it would seem that a kids' record would only be natural. And at moments, Alphabutt is. But mostly, it's insufferably cloying.

"Pee-Pee in the Potty" annoys instead of instructs, and the title track finds its charm wearing off after the 2^nd or 3^rd scatological reference - which is to say, by the letter G. When Dawson sheds the "kid's music" shtick, though, the charm is back. "Happy Home (Keep on Writing)" doesn't pander but teaches the virtues of contentment and individuality ("Now I know it's better if we don't all sound the same") to a gentle, reassuring tune. Similarly, "Sunbeams and Some Beans" pairs playful lyrics and a lesson on sharing with political commentary. Then we remember why we liked Dawson enough to make our kids listen to her.

Standout Tracks: "Happy Home (Keep on Writing)," "Sunbeams and Some Beans" BRYAN REED

Blurt Online

Former Ben Folds Five drummer Darren Jessee, in New York, on North Carolina

2008-10-30T01:37:00.002-04:00

Former Ben Folds Five drummer Darren Jessee, in New York, on North Carolina

Moving quietly

29 OCT 2008 • by Bryan Reed

Photo by Deborah Francis

Darren Jessee has one foot out his front door. He's leaving his Brooklyn apartment with his bandmates to grab a late lunch the day after his band, Hotel Lights, played a show in Manhattan's Lower East Side.

Jessee in motion: It's a fitting introduction to his music and his band, whose name evokes a sense of transience, of destination and departure. The image fits Jessee's personal life, too. Best known as the former drummer of Ben Folds Five, he left Chapel Hill for New York a little more than a year ago. Before he departed, he wrote Firecracker People, the second Hotel Lights' album, but he recorded it as he packed for the North. By the time it was released in August, he was settled in the bigger city. The tunes are still spacy and Southern, but they glow with a new cosmopolitan refinement now. After all, location and change are essential to Jessee's music.

"Location has a lot to do with how you feel every day and what kind of information you're giving, even the weather and stuff like that. I think it makes a pretty big impression on most songwriters, where they live," says Jessee, who recently returned south to play a reunion show with Ben Folds Five. The 37-year-old went to high school in Charlotte and spent most of his adult life in and around Chapel Hill. He liked his "country life," and the privilege of space—a house and privacy that North Carolina could afford. "Those are things you can have in North Carolina that you don't really find [in New York City]."

Firecracker People was written over several years (Ben Folds Five played one track, "Amelia Bright," live), but it feels tied fast to its setting. The album carries the intimate qualities of North Carolina living that Jessee says he misses. And on the album's closing track, "Run Away Happy," Jessee sounds as though he's singing his goodbye letter to the state he always called home. It's as if he's waving through the back window of a car that's steadily shrinking into the distance.

"We were finishing up Firecracker People, and I had already made that transition [to life in New York]. North Carolina still feels a little more like home just because I grew up there, but New York definitely feels very comfortable to me these days," says Jessee, in his amiable, quiet way. Jessee dreamt of moving to New York as a Charlotte teenageer. Now, he loves its late-night culture and its endless opportunities. "Whether or not things exactly work out for you, you know there's at least a possibility that something exciting and unexpected could happen."

Jessee hasn't changed just his setting in advance of Firecracker People. Of the many musicians that played on Hotel Lights' self-titled debut, only producer Alan Weatherhead returned for Firecracker People. Otherwise, Tift Merritt's rhythm section—drummer Zeke Hutchins and bassist Jay Brown—contributed a shuffling sense of rustic Americana, at which the self-titled record merely hinted. (For more on this, see "Two records, one rhythm section.")

"I really like bands that have different sounds for each record. Even though there's a thread that unites them, there's a different feel to it or a different quality," says Jessee. His records are united mostly by his voice, offering small images through an unassuming, reflective tone. Relying more on guitar than piano, and augmented by restrained but sweeping keys from Weatherhead, Firecracker People is the more consistent and satisfying of the two Hotel Lights records.

"The first record was definitely more songs that I had been working on for a long time in different places, and I think the new record is more of a snapshot of a period of time," says Jessee. Hotel Lights moved between the soft-spoken, keys-floating balladry of standout single "You Come and I Go" to the crunchy power-pop of "Marvelous Truth," and blends of steel guitar and processed beats, as on "Motionless." If a solid record, it felt, at times, disjointed. The pieces of Firecracker People, by contrast, fit. Jessee says each song served as a building block for the next, making for a slow evolution, but one that suits the record.

"I just had these songs that I'd been working on and I just felt like they worked together and there was some feeling I was getting from the whole thing, so I started chipping away at it," says Jessee. "It's kind of like if you're writing short stories or a novel or whatever, you might have a basic outline, but you might not know exactly how you're going to get there until you're in the middle of it."

But part of the thrill of any project is the uncertain finish line. And for anyone or anything in constant motion, as Hotel Lights is, the destination is always a surprise.

Independent Weekly, 10/29/08

Hotel Lights' Firecracker People

2008-10-30T01:34:00.001-04:00

Hotel Lights' Firecracker People

(Bar/None)

29 OCT 2008 • by Bryan Reed

Understatement defines the aesthetic of the second Hotel Lights album, Firecracker People. From Darren Jessee's whispered croon—delivered as if he's singing only to himself—to his backing band's delicate, smooth arrangements—given a country tinge by drummer Zeke Hutchins and bassist Jay Brown—the record takes its contemplative time. Firecracker People sounds like sitting barefoot and still, sipping tea, reflecting on little things gone by.

Jessee's hushed voice, stifled as if by Southern humidity, adds narrative clarity to his image-rich thoughts. His attention to lyrical detail seeps into the album's every pore, expertly letting the listener in on his intent: During "Wedding Day," for instance, he whispers to a rainy day and a lost love, "I'm sitting here/ With my coffee cup/ You're waking up/ On your wedding day." His mundane inaction turns to romantic torture beneath a gently strummed acoustic and vapor-light keybords. On "Amelia Bright," a leftover from the last Ben Folds Five tour, he sings softly of a "red '50s dress from a thrift shop nearby."

"Flicker in My Eye" smolders in nostalgia. Among the song's gentle chords, its syncopated drum machine feels slightly out of place, but it matches Jessee's outcast mood: "These arms that once held you/ Like a sunset in the sea." Shimmering cymbal rides finally float through the chorus.

Firecracker People descends through "Run Away Happy." Over its deliberately plucked acoustic guitar, it's as if the North Carolina expatriate offers his goodbye. But it's a fond farewell. Indeed, much like its namesake, Hotel Lights offers soft-spoken, often unassuming company that shines its gentle welcome, as friendly and calm as a front-porch thinker, willing to share a moment, but also keeping its eye on the clock.

Independent Weekly, 10/29/08

Akimbo - Jersey Shores

2008-10-29T11:03:00.001-04:00

MUSIC REVIEWS

Akimbo
Jersey Shores

[Neurot; 2008]

----
Styles: hardcore, metal
Others: Mastodon, Melvins, Dead Kennedys
Links: Akmbo - Neurot

Even though Akimbo’s Jersey Shores is told in fragmented vignettes, its narrative concept is remarkably complete. The album, based on a series of brutal shark attacks off the coast of New Jersey in 1916, plays like an aural equivalent of Jaws or a cousin to Mastodon’s own maritime concept record, Leviathan — both classics in their own rights. Told from the perspective of a witness with hindsight to the grisly events, the lyrics, growled by bassist Jon Weisnewski, drift along streams of consciousness, images, and associative phrases, trading specificity for impression.

Each song provides a new chapter in the story. Prologue “Matawan” takes its name from the town that provides the setting for the narrative arc, while the reporting of victims Charles Vansant and Charles Bruder (“Bruder Vansant”), as well as Lester Stillwell and Stanley Fisher (“Lester Stillwell”) follow in the next two tracks. The town panics in “Rogue” as the nature of the malefic monster is pondered in “Great White Bull.” And finally, as the album’s title track winds down, it brings us back to where we began, with the sounds of waves lapping the shore, taunting, daring us to go back in the water.

Musically, Jersey Shores functions like the greatest of horror stories, building its dread with masterful dynamic, offering false calm in its wiry, entangled melodies before building up to crushing, bottomed-out bludgeons delivered with the force of a great white’s upward charge. Guitar squeals surge above the melee. And the tumult recedes again; more false hope to string us along. The long-standing Seattle band’s got the chops to pull off such a visceral aural assault, but it’s handled with a preternatural finesse. The spiraling melodic lines intertwine with crushing drop-tuned chugging. Weisnewski’s gruff howls attack with his band’s choppy froth and bleed out into a cracked croon as the band’s behemoth climaxes dip back into the murky depths, waiting for the next strike. Feedback hums drape the quiet moments, creating an ominous drone that inevitably gives way into more of Akimbo’s scorching metal.

Without such a dynamic, though, the story’s ingrained emotions of terror and wonder, vengeance and awe would fall flat, making a gross error of what, in Akimbo’s charge, is a nuanced vision of real-life brutality and nature’s gruesome force. It’s the same multifaceted completeness that makes Jersey Shores an album born fully-formed, indivisible, and wholly fulfilling.

1. Matawan
2. Bruder Vansant
3. Lester Stillwell
4. Rogue
5. Great White Bull
6. Jersey Shores

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 10/29/08

Free Times Music Crawl

2008-10-26T13:55:00.002-04:00

Death Becomes Even the Maiden
12:50-1:45 a.m.
Death Becomes Even The Maiden is not a name for a catchy band. But Eric Greenwood, the bassist and singer of the Capital City trio, is quick to admit that, surprisingly enough, Death Becomes Even The Maiden’s songs are catchy. But to clarify, we’re using the term “catchy” less as a euphemism for “gimmicky” and more as a woefully inadequate placeholder for the word “memorable.” Songs such as these are guaranteed to leave an impression.

For a taste, try the band’s latest recording, the Pink EP, a single in the classic sense: two songs on one seven-inch record. A-side “The Chop” digs deep with a melodic bass line slicing through a fog of synth-chords before the beat drops and the song turns around into its post-punk snarl. Joy Division’s moodiness meets Gang of Four’s staccato vocal delivery. But it’s tempered by blips of Dinosaur Jr feedback in the guitars and becomes something very close to pop. Good thing it’s balanced by its flipside, “The Only Thing I Feel for You is the Recoil,” a frantic guitar-charged gallop bookended by hissing amplifiers. “Sort of a Jekyll and Hyde,” says Greenwood of the EP. With barreling drums and a vocal delivery from Greenwood that starts off urgent and builds its way up to enraged as he scorches his throat through the chorus, “Recoil” is ignition for a mosh pit — but still there’s that hook. Don’t be surprised to find yourself screaming right along.

The band’s influences are clear: post-punk jitters keep the band’s math-rock proclivities from sitting still while The Pixies’ loud-quiet-loud dynamic gets cranked up. But it’s a testament to the trio’s chemistry that the songs can be so simultaneously urgent and approachable. “I almost feel like I need to apologize for being too catchy,” Greenwood says. No apologies necessary. — B. Reed

Death Becomes Even The Maiden

Sunshone Still
9:45-10:30 p.m.
Chris Smith, the lone constant of Sunshone Still, is a hush-voiced storyteller, a tiptoe parade of American frontier mythology. His Ten Cent American Novels, which centers on the life and times of Manifest Destiny-era war hero Kit Carson, is a gentle, wizened slice of Americana. “A Time To Be Womaned” soars on its muted saloon brass and bounding banjo and carries a ragtime feel with the introduction of a Dixieland clarinet in its bridge. It also churns along where other songs — namely the ambling “Klamath Lake” — are content to shuffle along kicking up sepia-toned dust. The record turns its yellowed pages with leather-soft acoustic strums as the distant moan of electric guitar strokes their faces longingly. It’s here, in this ability to create such vivid, if dream-smudged, images, that Sunshone Still commands the rapt attention of its listeners. — B. Reed

Sunshone Still

Free Times, 10/01/08

Laika & The Cosmonauts - Cosmopolis

2008-10-23T15:29:00.000-04:00

Laika and the Cosmonauts

Cosmopolis

(Yep Roc)

www.yeproc.com

For its bloated 27-song track list and hour-and-16-minutes running time, Cosmopolis feels surprisingly concise. What could-and probably ought to be-a lesson in instro-rock tedium is instead a varied and dynamic trip. Tremolo-baked guitar lines waver like heat rising in the distance, reverberating sweetly into driving drum-beats that move from surf-boogie to Specials-ska. But the Cosmonauts' primary superlative is the excitement that seems to burst out of every track. From the riff-rockin' dance party of "Disconnected," to the Del-Tones flurry of notes in "Surfs You Right!," to the pensive, keyboard-led sci-fi score of "Psyko," each note feels urgent.

Here is a band always moving forward in its songs, never letting anything sit long enough to stagnate. But the career-spanning collection's biggest strength is in its oddball tracks: the aforementioned "Disconnected," which leans on its drum work to provide the momentum as guitar lines swirl in and out of the picture, and the funky "Circumstantial Evidence" are perfect examples. Elsewhere, the more straightforward surf-rock cuts tend to blend together. Each track is sharp, but clustered together, starts to become blunt, like a bed of nails-save of course, for the stylistic grab-bag Laika and the Cosmonauts use to keep things interesting over the course of a way long LP.

Standout Tracks: "Disconnected," "Circumstantial Evidence," "Psyko" BRYAN REED

8 Days A Week

2008-10-23T14:18:00.000-04:00

Tuesday 10.28

Chapel Hill
Aminal Music
The Cave—Born of afternoon beers and inspired by graffiti, Aminal Music is a band of modest ambitions. "The grand mission for this band is to get these two EPs out and see if anybody likes 'em, and just keep playing shows," says frontman (and sometime Honored Guest) Patrick O'Neill. O'Neill and drummer Cameron Weeks created a buoyant sound with extra attention to texture from the keyboards. But the duo wasn't quite enough. The now-four piece band, with bassist Joe Caparo and keyboardist Mark Reidy, comes off the road for a show at The Cave with Weeks' other band, Black Skies, at 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 10/22/08

VISITING ACT | Squirrel Nut Zippers

2008-10-23T02:09:00.000-04:00

VISITING ACT | Squirrel Nut Zippers

Redneck Jazz Revival: Squirrel Nut Zippers still Hot after all these years

BY BRYAN REED

The Zips today: Most of the original lineup have reassembled for boozy fun

Squirrel Nut Zippers
w/ Backyard Tire Fire
Tues. Oct. 28
8 p.m.
$20, $17/adv.
Music Farm
32 Ann St.
(843) 853-3276
www.musicfarm.com
www.myspace.com/snzippers

The origin of Chapel Hill's Squirrel Nut Zippers is a simple one, a story formed from a confluence of talent and incidence, of love and of mirth. It is, in short, not unlike the stories of many groups.

Jimbo Mathus and Katherine Whalen formed the band with a collection of friends, named themselves after a dubiously packaged peanut candy, and started attracting crowds to their shows. As percussionist Chris Phillips remembers, "When this band started, it was redneck Camelot. It was this beautiful time in our lives when we could drink and eat fried chicken and play music all at the same time. I think the Zippers are part of a great Southern tradition which is storytelling and drinking and falling over."

It wasn't long before the band signed to famed indie label Mammoth Records and released 1995's The Inevitable. But it was the sophomore LP Hot that took the Squirrel Nut Zippers from ordinary to anything but. Even in the musically adventurous realm of '90s alternative rock, the Squirrel Nut Zippers seemed unlikely stars. But "Hell," a cut from Hot, gained traction in 1997 as a novelty hit on MTV and alternative rock radio, and just happened to perfectly coincide with the short-lived swing revival that put the Brian Setzer Orchestra and the Cherry Poppin' Daddies on the pop charts. It came swiftly and unexpectedly, and was most certainly a cause for celebration.

This sudden success opened new doors for the goofball band from North Carolina. "My kids can watch me on Sesame Street, and that's cool forever," says Phillips.

But nobody — the band, their fans, music critics, or the listening public — was entirely comfortable lumping the Zippers in with the other swing bands. Not enough use of the phrase "daddy-o," perhaps. Or, more likely, it had something to do with the Zippers' more organic, string-rooted sound.

Their collective musical ear is as in tune with big-band swing as it is to blues, country, and pre-WWII pop.

Their defiant attitude makes the Zippers something else.

Says Phillips, "The Squirrel Nut Zippers band has the ability to have every single person in the band playing in a different genre at the same time."

Whalen's voice moves between an airy, sweet Andrews Sisters lilt to a rich Billie Holiday jazz croon. The band can swing into upbeat jump-blues, dabble in Dixieland hoo-rah, and dive headlong into nervy pop. Swing horns and walking upright basslines add color and energy. Ultimately, it plays as an amalgamation of Depression-era pop hits across genres. This band is about chemistry, not genre. It's about creating something joyful and exciting and new each time the players pick up their instruments. Phillips compares the music to the ride of life: "We want to cry a little bit, we want to laugh a lot, and we want to scare the shit out of you every now and then."

He sums it up rather simply: "Redneck jazz, that's us."

And so the band rocks its jet-fueled retro romps with humor and sarcasm. The songs remain defiantly upbeat, providing a sort of juke-joint escapism that plays like some romanticized reel of sepia-toned flappers grinning in an illicit speakeasy, hoisting dry gin in the face of Johnny Law. That very sense of riot-jubilee keeps the Zippers music relevant 10 to 15 years after their inception. As we enter the clutch of The Great Depression 2.0, the Squirrel Nut Zippers stand firm (if maybe a bit woozily), nose-to-nose with hard times. "We're not depressed," says Phillips. "We're very happy. We drink all the time. We encourage people in any depression to drink as heavily as possible."

And so the story of the Squirrel Nut Zippers continues — less as a reunion, more as a revival. Mathus spent the time off playing session guitar with Chicago blues legend Buddy Guy, running a recording studio in Cuomo, Miss., and playing with his band Knockdown South. Whalen fronted her own band, Lucky. And Phillips moved to Los Angeles, where he plays with long-standing punk band the Dickies and worked as a composer for the Comedy Central animated series Lil' Bush. Other members have come and gone, notably violinist Andrew Bird, who currently tours as a successful solo musician. Tom Maxwell and Ken Mosher, who both contributed heavily to the band's heyday success, have a band together in Chapel Hill. They "decided to leave the band to pursue legal careers." Their departure was not an amicable split, but Phillips says it's in the past. The Zippers are looking to the future once again.

With the band back together on its members' own terms, there's a sense of freedom and loyalty in the current incarnation. "I can say, for better or worse, I take you on as my musical partner. And I hope it is 'til death do we part," says Phillips. So far, so good. The Zippers have a new live album on the horizon and a studio recording planned for 2009.

And as long as the music is exciting, the story will continue to be written, adding adventure and embellishment along the way in true Zippers fashion. "It still feels as creatively invigorating as it always was," says Phillips. "It still feels like we're making our very own fourth-grade class play."

Charleston City Paper, 10/22/08

Sound Bites

2008-10-23T02:05:00.001-04:00

Friday

Ahleuchatistas — Volatility is a virtue for Asheville trio Aheleuchatistas, the spastic instrumentals of which are prone to violent flurries of guitars and hail-storm drumming. What separates this from the math-rock hordes is the genuine tunefulness underlying the songs. The band’s latest, an expanded re-issue of 2004’s The Same and the Other, not only earns the distinction of bearing the imprint of famed experimentalist John Zorn’s Tzadik label, but also boils over frantic energy and superhuman precision. Chaos seems imminent: Dissonance is pierced with harmonic chords, melody is interrupted by frenzied, percussive plucking. But Ahleuchatistas are masters of their craft, ever in control of their musical maelstrom. B. Reed
Hunter-Gatherer: 11 p.m.; 748-0540, myspace.com/huntergathererbrewery.

Angie Aparo — Angie Aparo’s 2000 LP The American has all the trappings of a major label release — a charismatic singer, lush arrangements and a handful of moderate radio hits. (“Cry,” in fact, went on to be an even bigger hit with Faith Hill at the helm.) But it also carries all the stereotypical burdens of such a release — its failure to reach the same success as its influences (U2 and The Goo Goo Dolls are obvious touchstones) resulted in Aparo being dropped from Arista, leaving him to spend the time since his brush with success supporting three more LPs on the road. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 8 p.m., $10; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Saturday

American Gun — Like their forbears in Uncle Tupelo, Columbia sextet American Gun marries the pedal-stomp ruckus of bar-rock with old-time country’s twangy wisdom. Only where Uncle Tupelo’s world-weary drinking songs always seemed less then celebratory, American Gun stays in those wobbly blissful moments. Pair Tupelo’s “Whiskey Bottle,” a hopeless drinker’s lament, with the American Gun’s “Drunk Girls,” a bluegrass-tinged ode to its titular characters with enough propulsive energy hiding beneath its mid-tempo melody to keep it poised to explode into a bottles-held-high anthem. A bottle-neck slide guitar brings us back to the honky tonk as the song winds down to its lovelorn conclusion. Drunken love: it never gets old. B. Reed
Five Points Pub: 8 p.m., $5; 253-7888, myspace.com/5pointspub.

Tuesday

Fake Problems, Look Mexico — Fake Problems, a band of Floridian folk-punks equally indebted to Charlie Daniels’ Southern rock and swampy psychobilly as they are to Against Me! and (Young) Pioneers, is a natural fit with local headliners Of Angels and Lions, a trio whose gruff acoustic-punk follows the template set by Against Me!’s perfect debut EP. It’s certainly a more natural fit than the one between Fake Problems and their tourmates in Look Mexico. Fake Problems’ frenetic hollers and raucous Americana plays the foil to Look Mexico’s front-porch ease and rich, multifaceted pop. Vocal harmonies swell the chorus, horns pop and shimmy, and guitars slink and crash, giving the songs a basement party volume without any of the busted-speaker static. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7 p.m., $8; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Free Times, 10/22/08

Hearing Aid

2008-10-23T02:02:00.001-04:00

YES, PLEASE

10.25 THE PNEUROTICS/ PONCHOS FROM PERU @ JACK SPRAT

Both Chapel Hill's Pneurotics and Wilmington's Ponchos From Peru have made friends and fans in Durham's quirk-embracing music community, and for good reason: The Pneurotics' meat-and-potatoes Southern rock gets a kick from frontman Rich McLaughlin's jagged, static-draped guitar lines, which zig-zag as welcome aberrations through his songs' straightforward foundations. Meanwhile, the Ponchos bash out K Records-style pop on pawn shop guitars and school band horns with the off-the-cuff charm of initials carved in a park bench. $5/ 11 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 10/22/08

Heartsrevolution, Switchblade EP

2008-10-22T11:55:00.001-04:00

Heartsrevolution

Switchblade EP

(iheartcomix)

www.iheartcomix.com

It's kind of a bummer when timing blows a band's shot at the big time. Boys Noize will always be the band that came stateside after Justice blew up, even if Oi! Oi! Oi! is just as good as (if not better than) †. Likewise, Heartsrevolution is bound to find themselves the band that came after Crystal Castles, even though Crystal Castle's eponymous LP was, despite stellar singles, an inconsistent affair, and the five tracks of the Switchblade EP are uniformly kickass.

"Switchblade" starts with a harmonic hum that soon bursts into French-style electro-rock bombast, providing the lift for vocalist Lo to provide the melodic balance to producer Ben's mash of power electronics and electro-punk aggression. Yes, it's a boy-girl duo merging hooky melodics to in-your-face digital spazz-outs. And Crystal Castles did it before Heartsrevolution. Whatever. By the time "Digital Suicide // Lullaby" wraps up the five-track EP with its woozy, suicidal come-down there's no question that first isn't always best.

Standout Tracks: "Digital Suicide // Lullaby," "Switchblade," "Ultraviolence" BRYAN REED

Hearing Aid

2008-10-16T17:34:00.001-04:00

YES, PLEASE

10.16 THE CLUB IS OPEN @ CAT'S CRADLE

In this latest installment of Cat's Cradle's Wootini-sponsored local music showcase, The Club is Open, the definition of "local" gets stretched. Max Indian, led by singer/songwriter Carter Gaj, represents Chapel Hill with AM Gold flair and a tight set, built on a foundation of honey-thick melodies and carefree charisma. The outfit's breezy Americana walks the line between Charleston resident Cary Ann Hearst's sinner's blues concoction—a blend of down-home country gospel and Wanda Jackson attitude—and the slow, shuffling, Hotel Lights-ish pop of Justin Williams, he of Charlotte's late Young Sons. Solo, Williams offers a gentle, steady strum and an upper-register croon. Free/ 9 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 10/15/08

Sound Bites

2008-10-16T16:47:00.000-04:00

Thursday

Buckethead — The way I see it, Buckethead has two marketable skills. First, most importantly and most obviously, is branding. In a more-than-15-year career, Buckethead has made himself an almost-icon with his raised-by-chickens mythology and, well, the whole bucket on his head thing. Aligning himself with big-name acts the likes of Axl Rose and a short-lived incarnation of G’N’R, and System of a Down’s Serj Tankian, Buckethead kept his name on people’s tongues. His clipped rhythmic sensibilities and industrial-tinged, post-nu-metal licks — admittedly a distinctive style within a largely homogenous genre — come second, riding shotgun as his ability to craft an image takes the wheel. With That One Guy. B. Reed
Headliners: 8 p.m., $20 ($17 advance); 796-2333, headlinerscolumbia.com.

Friday

Blinded By Underpants,  The Gadgets — An indie rock show in the classic sense, this local double-bill is audibly indebted to indie rock’s formative years. The Gadgets marry Replacements-punk to Eva Moore’s detached vocals — somewhere between Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus and Beat Happening’s Heather Lewis — and provide a fitting dance partner to Blinded By Underpants, a duo whose ’90s-reverent style carries an R.E.M. jangle, a Pavement shuffle and the sweet-tea jitters of Archers of Loaf. (Full disclosure: Free Times music editor Patrick Wall fronts Blinded By Underpants.) This is the release party for Wolves, BBU’s latest affair, which has enough divebomb guitars and old-T-shirt familiarity to please just about anybody with functional ears. B. Reed
Hunter Gatherer: 11 p.m., $5; 748-0540,  myspace.com/huntergathererbrewery.

Free Times, 10/15/08

VISITING ACT | Obituary

2008-10-09T14:11:00.000-04:00

VISITING ACT | Obituary

A Rumbling Tumult: Don't underestimate Obituary

BY BRYAN REED

Obituary
w/ Unleashed, Carnifex
Tues. Oct. 14
8 p.m.
$22, $19/adv.
Music Farm
32 Ann St.
(843) 853-3276
www.musicfarm.com
www.myspace.com/obituary

"I probably would have been a killer or a murderer or something," says Obituary bassist Frank Watkins. "Who knows? I had a lot of aggression when I was younger. I got in a lot of fights and stuff, but I found a way to channel that through my music." He's been channeling that aggression through his bass for the past 20 years as a part of the influential death metal band Obituary, who finish their latest tour behind the four-song EP, Left to Die, Tuesday at the Music Farm.

Obituary first made its name when its landmark 1989 debut, Slowly We Rot (which sees a re-recording of its title track on Left to Die) shook up the metal scene by blending post-Slayer speed metal with an ever-important nod to the slower, heavier sounds of European metal bands like Celtic Frost (whose "Dethroned Emperor" is covered on Left to Die). What resulted is a sound as complementary to late-'80s thrash (think Metallica) as it is to the bellowing, dirgy metal of bands like Black Sabbath. For metalheads in the early-'90s, Obituary proved to be a standard-bearer for the next generations of American death metal.

Watkins doesn't see the Floridian quintet's career as such a grand gesture, though. "Something evolved because of other bands we kind of worshipped as kids," he says, citing metal bands like Celtic Frost, Possessed, Kreator, and Slayer, but also noting the influence of hardcore punk bands like Agnostic Front, and a lyrical influence from The Misfits' gore-splattered hardcore. (The Misfits' Earth A.D. LP is a veritable thrash metal manifesto). "Our main goal is just to be heavier than those bands," he adds.

Obituary brands itself as "the heaviest band in the world."

That sacred heaviness breeds in the band's down-tuned, chugging guitars and gut-churning low-end. Double-kick bass drums batter against the stringed maelstrom, while John Tardy growls above it all. Aerobatic guitar solos — long metal's trademark — tear through the songs, but instead of soaring free must battle against the rumbling tumult, struggling as if they're fighting for their very lives. It's high-strung, desperate music. And that's precisely what makes it exciting.

It's brutal, and totally unapologetic about it. While Obituary's early peers were blistering their fingers to play even faster than the almighty Slayer, Obituary was experimenting with dynamics, learning the exact way to manipulate a listener with a slow, chugging breakdown that whips itself into a breakneck thrash movement without a moment's warning.

In the almost 20 years since Slowly We Rot sucker punched the American metal scene, not much has changed about Obituary's sound. "We're older obviously," says Watkins. "And we're a little smarter business-wise. We're a little more thought-out, experiment with our riffs a little more."

But the template is more or less the same. Twenty years ago, it was the newest of the new. By today's standards, it's old school. The band has left a heavy footprint on the sound of metal, opening the gateway for the sludgy sound of many other southern metal outfits (see Mastodon, Baroness). After 20 years in death metal, Frank Watkins still isn't a murderer — but his band still slays.

Sound Board

2008-10-09T14:10:00.000-04:00

Evangelicals w/ Parenthetical Girls It’s not a stretch to compare Evangelicals to their fellow Oklahomans The Flaming Lips. Both share a knack for euphoric psychedelia, lacing fuzz-blossomed guitar melodies with sonic doodads, and upwelling, climactic song structures. Both have frontmen with high, reedy voices that sound as spaced out as the music surrounding them. Where the two differ is in the approach. The Lips’ surrealist escapism assumes there’s another world and it ain’t so hot. Wayne Coyne’s frequent political rants testify to that. With Evangelicals, though, there’s a feeling that the songs exist in their own playful, Technicolor utopia. It offers a similar surrealist escape, but not the same one. On their latest full-length, The Evening Descends, Evangelicals take listeners to a world where every turn’s a new adventure washed in the warm, dream-like static of a fog of guitar noise that ebbs and flows with the songs’ dynamic. Portland, Ore.-based experimental pop band Parenthetical Girls open. —Bryan Reed
$8, www.myspace.com/evangelicals.

The Village Tavern
1055 Johnnie Dodds Blvd., Mt Pleasant (Mt. Pleasant), SC 29464
(843) 884-6311
http://www.village-tavern.com

Charleston City Paper, 10/8/08

Sound Bites

2008-10-09T14:08:00.000-04:00

Friday
Senses Fail — With a fresh album on the shelves — Life Is Not a Waiting Room saw its release last Tuesday — New Jersey screamo outfit Senses Fail keeps the flame alive. Melodic verses give way to gruff screaming, more macho than moaning, while double bass-drum hits and ’80s metal guitar solos nestle themselves amid pop-punk palm-muting and a snare-hit backbeat. It’s the formula the band’s been riding to Warped Tour-level success since 2004’s Vagrant Records debut, Let It Enfold You. Since then, there’s been a new LP every two years, like clockwork. In that sense, this tour is right on time. Like-minded bands Dance Gavin Dance, The Number 12 Looks Like You and Foxy Shazam open the show. - B. Reed
Headliner’s: 7 p.m., $17 ($14 advance); 796-2333, headlinerscolumbia.com.

Tuesday
Toro Y Moi — Shedding the guitar-centric aesthetic of his role as frontman for the Capital City quartet The Heist and the Accomplice, Chaz Bundick builds his Toro Y Moi songs around blown-out bass notes and frantic, elastic snyth melodies. Drum machine loops and fuzzed-out keys mesh with Bundick’s simple vocal melodies and distant delivery. Here, indie rock’s slacker charm and electronica’s melodic buzz work together, more successfully than might’ve seemed likely. Pop structures melding with dance music timbre isn’t anything new, but it’s what’ll keep the show cohesive when Toro Y Moi’s follows the folk-pop of local Austin Crane and the piano-pop of Layfayette, La., road warriors Brass Bed. - B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7 p.m., $5 ($8 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Toro Y Moi

Jason Adamo's Sunflower

2008-10-09T14:03:00.001-04:00

Jason Adamo's Sunflower

(self-released)

8 OCT 2008 • by Bryan Reed

Though Jason Adamo's latest EP, Sunflower, is bookended by two versions of the same song, "Purple Sky," and though I've listened to both versions no less than 10 times each, I still couldn't tell you how either version goes. There's nothing there that snags the ear, no clever turns of phrase, no melodic grabs, no dynamic shifts—just middling white-bread soul jams with vocal phrases so predictable you can practically see Adamo wincing, Michael Bolton-style, as he hits the high notes. And with lines as clunky as "There's a smile on my face/ I can't wait to see your face/ It's been a long, long while/ And that's just too long," it's not going to be the lyricism that lets Sunflower bloom.

To his credit, Adamo can carry a tune. He has a wide range, and he's expressive, gliding between notes, lacing his warm tenor around the words gracefully. He occasionally overreaches, as when he stretches syllables by adding unnecessary oh-oh-yeahs at the end of almost every line. But that's only a symptom of the real problem: With very little lyrical vulnerability or specificity, Adamo's voice has nothing to carry or any reason to stick to the script. The songs have the shallow impact of a poke with a novelty foam finger. Only on the Hootie and the Blowfish-esque "Miracle" does Sunflower inch toward something memorable. "I just spent Christmas Eve alone," he croons, feeling and describing it as if for the time. And when the chorus hits, the tempo picks up just enough to breathe a little life into the song.

But like fertilizer, "Miracle" can only revive Sunflower for so long. Adamo is reaching for John Mayer's hushed blues, Adam Levine's polished pop, and Smokey Robinson's timeless melodicism, but he's not there yet. His blanket refusal to take creative risks doesn't seem to be pushing him there, either.

Jason Adamo has several Raleigh shows in the next week: He hosts an open mic night Oct. 8 at The Bassment and Oct. 14 at Blue Martini. He performs at The Pourch Oct. 9 and Rudino's Oct. 15.

Independent Weekly, 10/8/08

Terry Lynn - Kingstonlogic 2.0

2008-10-03T13:42:00.001-04:00

MUSIC REVIEWS

Terry Lynn
Kingstonlogic 2.0

[Last Gang; 2008]

----
Styles: reggae, hip-hop, electronic
Others: M.I.A., Buju Banton, Beyoncé
Links: Terry Lynn - Last Gang

We accept the “pop” in “pop music” as being a shortened derivation of “popular.” But for Terry Lynn and her long-playing debut, Kingstonlogic 2.0, it might as well be “populist.” Perhaps a subtle difference, but an important one, as Lynn’s songs are as closely related to the sounds of American Top 40 and Public Enemy’s agitator vitriol as they are to the politics and riddim of dub and dancehall.

Inevitably, the album will be tucked tightly (confiningly) into a reggae or dancehall cubbyhole, merely because of Lynn’s Jamaican upbringing and her noticeably thick island accent. But aesthetically, Kingstonlogic 2.0 has more in common with English grime and dubstep — dark, angered lyrics about the hardships of life on the streets, unadorned. “I’m a child of the soil I was born in the ghetto/ Where the gangstas roll by and then gunshot echo,” Lynn declares in the album’s first couplet. And sonically, as hard-nosed and grimy as it can be, there’s plenty for popular ears to latch onto. The stutter-stepping, globally conscious hip-hop of M.I.A. (whose surprise success with “Paper Planes” shouldn’t be a surprise at all) is written all over the deep, Jamaican bass pulses and chant-along lyrical flow of “IMF.” And on the perhaps tellingly titled “Destiny,” Lynn steps into Beyoncé’s stilettos, carrying a lithe melody over a pounding backbeat and a four-note synth riff into standout territory as the album’s most optimistic track. Even a cover of The Melodians’ reggae standard, “Rivers of Babylon,” featuring original Melodian Brent Dowe, can’t top the optimism of “Destiny.” But as the album’s final (listed) song, it does provide a properly stoic meditation and slowed-down, deep-grooved benediction to send the album off. The hidden track, then, comes a bit abruptly, but not as that great a detriment to the album.

In general terms, though, Kingstonlogic 2.0 functions as gangsta rap was supposed to function as: street journalism. It’s not a well-kept secret that, outside of the tourist zones, Jamaica has more than its share of social strife. Terry Lynn blazes through her brand of dancehall with eyes and ears wide open, conscious not only to sounds from outside Kingston (it is, after all, the age of the internet), but also to the grim realities an impoverished society breeds. Take, for example, the first verse of “Screaming In The Night”: “When the sun goes down and the moon comes out/ The freaks come to town with their big guns out/ Firing bullets like a range down south/ Ain’t nothing changed down south, a brother’s brain jumps out/ Somebody’s running from the Wilson’s house/ A mother is worried ’cause her one son’s out/ Trying to figure out what the commotion’s about/ If the screaming was coming from her one son’s mouth.”

At the very least, Kingstonlogic 2.0 shows that Jamaica is far more than a haven for ganja-smoking, dreadlocked rastafari, coconut rum, beer in short-stubby-ugly bottles, tie-dye, and tourism. With this album, Terry Lynn gives dimension to the land and culture to which the roots of her sound are bound.

1. Child of the Soil 2. Kingstonlogic 3. Politricks 4. System 5. Screaming in the Night 6. Streetlife 7. IMF 8. Consumers 9. Destiny 10. Stone 11. The Most High 12. Rivers of Babylon 13. Hidden Track (“Kingston Rockers”)

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 10/3/08

Sound Bites

2008-10-01T20:48:00.000-04:00

Wednesday

The Modern Society — Since noticing American Hi-Fi sitting pretty in the number two spot of The Modern Society’s top friends — and The Modern Society inhabiting the top spot on American Hi-Fi’s page — it’s been hard to shake a comparison between the two bands. Both the early-’00s modern rock staples (recall “Flavor of the Weak”) and the young quartet from Atlanta burn through power-pop jams like Cheap Trick distilled through Nirvana, blended with Weezer and served with Elvis Costello via early Sugarcult. And if there’s anything we’ve learned from these sonic touchstones, it’s that well-placed palm-muting and a vamp into the chorus will never, ever get old — at least not for a while. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7 p.m., $5 ($7 under 21); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Friday

The Unawares

The Unawares — From the sound of it, The Unawares are anything but. The trio’s blend of wiry Polvo-isms, Replacements-grit and jittery and Minutemen-esque flashbombs of nervous energy shows more than ample awareness of indie rock’s sonic successes. John Watkins yelps and spits, his voice dodging divebombing, warped-chord-bent-string guitar lines. Drummer Rhett Berger drives the ship with the careening force of a semi with its brakes cut while bassist James Wallace navigates the minefield with uncanny precision. If ever a band seemed to be hanging precariously on the precipice of spontaneous combustion, this is it. And with such volatile inspirations, it seems The Unawares wouldn’t have it any other way. Atlanta Latin-garage-rock ensemble Batata Doce opens. B. Reed
Hunter Gatherer: 11 p.m., $5; 748-0540, myspace.com/huntergathererbrewery.

Sunday

Seabird

Seabird — Clearly, the four men of Seabird are devoted students in the post-Beatles school of pop-rock. There’re the latter-day U2 swells and the pre-Eno Coldplay pianos and heart-on-sleeve vocals for starters. But then there’s the Killers-born dance-rock drums or the uncanny Chris Cornell croon that Aaron Morgan’s otherwise Chris Martin-taught voice can dive into. Where then does that leave Seabird? Well, avoiding lame critic words like “pastiche” and “derivative,” we’ll settle on saying that the quartet will appeal to fans of any of the aforementioned bands, as elements of many styles are combined, rather smoothly, into Seabird’s pleasant-at-worst concoction. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7 p.m., $7; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Free Times, 10/1/08

Jean Grae - Jeanius

2008-09-25T21:58:00.002-04:00

MUSIC REVIEWS

Jean Grae
Jeanius

[Blacksmith; 2008]

----
Styles: hip-hop
Others: 9th Wonder, Mos Def, Talib Kweli
Links: Jean Grae - Blacksmith

Though it bears only one name on its cover, it’s best to consider Jeanius a duet between its top-billed MC and producer-cum-N.C. hip-hop poster-boy 9th Wonder. Here, 9th’s production serves to complement Jean Grae’s vocal counterpoint, with snappy beats sounding far more energized than anything 9th has offered us lately (witness this year’s lukewarm collab with Buckshot, The Formula) and his trademark spliced-soul samples buttressing Grae’s verses. And in like fashion, Grae complements her producer, her voice flowing with the beat rather than just on top of it.

The duo’s dynamic lends the album a smoothness born not of complacency, but of natural synergy, allowing the songs to traverse gravity and playfulness with equal aplomb. “My Story,” a heartbreaking narrative backed by trudging drums and jazzy woodwinds, gives the abortion debate much-needed pathos by avoiding politics and focusing instead on the desperation and regret of the song’s speaker. Pair that with “2-32’s” whose beat comes with woodblock clacks and a swaggering bass drum, and whose rhymes come rife with vibrant wordplay and braggadocio punctuated by laughter. Even when the album’s relatively few guests (a bevy of Carolina talent, none of whom are strangers to 9th Wonder productions, including Little Brother’s Phonte, Median, Edgar Allen Floe) step up to the mic, 9th and Grae still carry the record. The cameos offer peripheral support to Jeanius’ just-so flow every step of the way.

Only at the end of “Think About It,” — when a hypeman’s rant that is meant (I hope) as a sarcastic screed against racial profiling ends up sounding blindly venomous and misplaced on both the song and the album — does Jeanius falter. But despite such a glaring flaw, the record still succeeds and stays fresh upon repeated listening. Even as Grae proclaims on “Intro,” “Jean change your flow./ No./ 9th change your drums./ No.,” acknowledging both artists’ retro-reverent style (which has on past efforts been a stumbling block), here the backward-looking aesthetic turns back around, sounding revived instead of tired.

1. Intro 2. 2-32’s (feat. Daily Planet) 3. Don’t Rush Me 4. My Story 5. The Time Is Now (feat. Phonte) 6. Billy Killer 7. Think About It 8. #8 9. American Pimp (feat. Median) 10. This World 11. Love Thirst 12. Desperada 13. Smashmouth (feat. K. Hill, Edgar Allen Floe and Joe Scudda)

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 9/25/08

The Broken West

2008-09-25T21:57:00.000-04:00

The Broken West w/ Deep Vibration

Fri., Sept. 26.

It comes as no small surprise to find N.Y. dance-pop favorites LCD Soundsystem sitting atop The Broken West’s list of influences. The sound of the L.A.-based, Merge-signed Broken West is, after-all, seated so firmly upon the pillars of guitar-pop that a name other than The Beatles, The Kinks, or Big Star in that spot seems downright blasphemous. But one listen to Now or Heaven, the band’s second LP for Merge, and dubious becomes delightful. Here we hear a rhythmic swing, and a sharp low-end that gives the new album the dancefloor momentum that was missing from its predecessor. Squeeze into Now or Heaven’s standout opener, “Gwen, Now And Then,” for a taste of The Broken West’s newfound adeptness for marrying gliding melodic pop with an insistent rhythmic push. Guitars still steer the ship, but there’s an added emphasis on the atmosphere and rhythmic qualities keys can add, a stronger bass presence and meatier drums. And the result of this confluence of all-things-pop makes Now or Heaven The Broken West’s best work yet. —Bryan Reed
$6, www.myspace.com/thebrokenwest.

The Village Tavern
1055 Johnnie Dodds Blvd., Mt Pleasant (Mt. Pleasant), SC 29464
(843) 884-6311
http://www.village-tavern.com

Charleston City Paper