Song of the Week: King Khan & the Shrines' "I Wanna Be A Girl"

by Bryan Reed
"I Wanna Be A Girl" is a delightfully absurd and a disarmingly nuanced approach to rock's flirtations with androgyny. As it admires femininity from a decidedly male perspective, it flies its title like a banner. Khan is King here, charging his nine-piece Shrines through psych-soul swagger that gives the song enough hip-swaying slink to show how serious he just might be about his "sometimes" wish.

As with most of the tracks collected on the band's Vice Records compilation, The Supreme Genius of King Khan & the Shrines, "I Wanna Be A Girl" doesn't need an album's worth of context to make a point. The songs (especially this one) stand proudly on their own two legs, whether or not we know what's between them.

INDEPENDENT WEEKLY: What's the origin of "I Wanna Be A Girl"?

KING KHAN: I guess that's kind of being from living with and being surrounded by girls all the time, and then realizing that they're kind of the superior being.

There's truth to that.

It has to do mainly with worshipping women.

Is there a specific story that was a catalyst?

Umm, not in particular, no. It's kind of like, I mean, at home I've got two daughters and my wife, so I'm just constantly surrounded by girls. It's just kind of gotten into my brain.

There's long been this push and pull with gender identity and androgyny in rock music. How much of that maybe played into your process?

I think it's always good to play with that kind of thing with the audience. Especially because, like, I've always admired Little Richard, and I think he's one of the most important people in rock 'n' roll because back in the day he was doing that thing at a time when most of the audience would probably want to kill him for wearing makeup and stuff like that. So I think that that in rock 'n' roll is pretty important.

In the chorus, the song goes, "I wanna be a girl." Then, there's a pause, and you add, "sometimes." Why the qualifier?

Well, I mean, I'm pretty happy being a man, too.

You'd be happy either way?

Yeah. I guess so.

Contentment is always a nice thing.

Yes. Satisfaction.

Actually, I hear a bit of another Rolling Stones song in "I Wanna Be A Girl," in the guitars. A little bit of "Paint It Black."

Oh, yeah. It's a little bit of an Eastern psychedelic—not necessarily "Paint It Black"—but just, there's a lot of '60s garage rock that we're pulling from ... We kind of never wanted to go for any kind of purist thing. We try to mix it up.

How do you feel about rock 'n' roll as a singles format? I guess, at least in reference to The Supreme Genius as a compilation.

The band started like 10 years ago, so most of the stuff that we've put out was mainly in Europe and then I guess when the last record came out, the What Is?! album, that really caught on in the States with all kinds of reviews and, like, Pitchfork was all over it and stuff. So then, I thought it was a good time to kind of spread the word a little about the old stuff and Vice was into doing it. I'm glad it happened because we get a lot of response when we tour all over America.

When you write, do you think of the song in the context of an album, or, again, as a single?

I always think of it in the context of the song. I don't have a vision of the album as a completed thing, but as a collection of good songs. After a while, you just kind of see if it needs more rockers or more tear-jerkers.

So you're not losing anything hearing the song on Supreme Genius versus What Is?!

No, I don't think so. It's just to get it out to more people. I mean, if people like it, then they'll go back to the whole What Is?! album. That's just what I've tried to do is to compile the songs with just a quick taste of each of the three records and the singles and stuff, so if people do want to hear more, there's enough to be discovered.

Let's talk a little about the live show, too. There's definitely a theatrical element to the song and to the show. How does that all come together?

I wanted to make it really old school and have costumes and theatrical elements. Not really theatrical, but more like the traditional soul kind of things, like have a dancer and—we used to have a Tarzan on tour, just this guy who was on tour for one song, and all he would do is just come onstage and yell like Tarzan. So, I think it's pretty important to have that, particularly for soul music. It makes it more of a visual experience for the audience, and maybe people get a little more loose and crazy.

How do you define the word "soul"?

I never considered it a type of music, but I think it's more of a quality in music. If you hear really good punk music, you can say that has soul—or any kind of music where you can hear that desperation and raw power. Like when James Brown screams, there's a certain rawness and goodness that just sounds soulful to me.

King Khan & the Shrines play Local 506 with Spider Bags Monday, June 30, at 9:30 p.m. Tickets are $10.

Independent Weekly, June 25, 2008

Chapel Hill's Milemarker plays its first show in two years: Driving it home

By Bryan Reed

Heather McEntire knew Milemarker before she knew its members. Nearly a decade ago, she bought the Chapel Hill band's records while she was a college student in Wilmington, where her own band, Bellafea, got its start. McEntire admired the band's unrelenting kinetics and the political overtones of its post-hardcore blitz. Now, she's opening for Milemarker: "It kinda came full circle for us from admiring them to participating in music with them," she says. "It feels like they're friends and family now."

McEntire and Bellafea will join Milemarker for its only scheduled U.S. date and its first show in more than two years this weekend. The three-band bill—Milemarker, Fin Fang Foom and Bellafea—is beyond tightknit. "If you did a diagram, it would be a bunch of squiggles," says Milemarker's Ben Davis of the dizzying intersections among the three bands. "It's very interconnected."

Fin Fang Foom bassist and keyboardist Eddie Sanchez, for instance, also plays bass in Bellafea and keyboards in Ben Davis' other band, The Jetts. Milemarker guitarist Dave Laney lent vocals to Bellafea's new album, Cavalcade, and McEntire lends her voice to the forthcoming LP from Laney's latest project, Auxes. Davis and Foom guitarist Mike Triplett are both in Auxes. Milemarker 2008 will include drummer John Bowman, who plays in local hip-hop group Kerbloki and in Davis' Jetts.

Similarities connect the sounds of the three bands, too: Milemarker's moody post-hardcore bisects Bellafea's start-stop angularity and Fin Fang Foom's atmospheric swells and recessions. "I think we have a similar energy," says McEntire. "I think we all really love each other's music and are inspired and motivated [by it]."

The connections between the bands strengthen their respective approaches and encourage flexibility. "We all share," says Triplett of Fin Fang Foom. "No one gets too wrapped up in each other's stuff, selfishly. It's like Eddie playing with Bellafea: All of us are very into it and if it helps their band, that's great. None of us are very possessive ... we've all done it for a long time, so it's fun to kinda mix it up and play with other people."

Likewise, Milemarker is a band that rarely repeats itself, both in terms of members and music. Nearly a dozen people have played in Milemarker over the last decade, and Laney and Al Burian formed their own side project, Challenger, in 2004. The sound is built around a post-hardcore foundation of biting guitars, battering drums and volleyed screaming between members, but Milemarker takes detours that traditional hardcore bands wouldn't consider. Brooding melodies lurk within bristling guitars as the band takes lyrical aim at society. Electronic textures enter with 2000's Frigid Forms Sell and take on a much more prominent role on 2002's Satanic Versus.

"In the early days, we'd always say if one person in the band doesn't say, 'This is crazy, why are we doing it?' then we weren't doing something right," Davis recalls, highlighting the band's mission to push the boundaries of what hardcore should sound like. "I don't think we were the most innovative or craziest band around, but we always tried to change stuff."

He jokingly remembers playing with former Saddle Creek band The Faint before that band used keyboards. Milemarker used keyboards that night. The next time the bands played together, the story goes, The Faint had keyboards and became quite successful for their electronic riffs on punk.

But that's the past. Saturday's show at Local 506 is not only Milemarker's first in more than two years, but it's also its last before the band tours Europe on its way to the four-day Fusion Festival in Lärz, Germany, a small town halfway between Berlin and the Baltic Sea. The festival was willing to pay Milemarker enough money to make a tour out of it, so they booked 12 shows in Germany and Denmark.

Such logistical considerations have kept Milemarker apart for the last two years, says Laney. The band never actually broke up following its 2005 Ominosity album, but circumstances prevented performing or recording. Earlier this year, Burian returned to the Triangle from Chicago, following Laney's return last year. The original trio was back in its original geographic center. Playing suddenly became easier, at least for the time being. Davis says the 506 show is motivated by a desire to celebrate friendships. This is more a family reunion than band reunion.

"It's more about keeping it in the family, because it's just one of those occasions where we get to play together and hang out," says Laney. "We have a lot of history together with all those people, specifically with Fin Fang Foom." After Foom moved here from Florida in the late '90s and before Milemarker moved to Chicago, they toured together extensively. Their careers had followed similar paths, anyway—each forming around the same time in the late-'90s and each releasing records through D.C.'s Lovitt Records.

And, as is usually true of old friends, once everyone's in the same place, it's hard to tell any time has lapsed at all or what may happen in the immediate future. Milemarker may return to the studio, or it may not. It may hit the road with Fin Fang Foom again, or it may not. "Milemarker is the band we've all learned to not make plans for," Laney says. "If something happens, then it happens, and it's great."

Milemarker, Fin Fang Foom and Bellafea play Local 506 Saturday, June 21, at 10 p.m. Tickets are $7.

8 Days A Week

Friday 6.20

Raleigh
Megafaun
Yogasana South—Maybe you'll find transcendence or something similar in the free henna tattoos or healthy desserts and coffee offered at the name-change celebration for this Five Points yoga studio. But you'll definitely find release in Megafaun's upwelling harmonies and cathartic inclusiveness. The trio's enlightened fusion of avant-rock and old-time folk builds monuments out of sinuous rhythms and lithe vocal swells. Live, it's sort of like yoga, equal parts mind and body, turning complex musical ideas into viscerally affecting, if unlikely anthems. This is a free show, so save your cash for the silent auction, which benefits the Triangle Land Conservancy. Megafaun plays at 9 p.m. —Bryan Reed

---

Chapel Hill
Shakermaker, Gray Young
Jack Sprat—During a summer such as this, the collegiate chaos of East Franklin Street subsides into quieter atmosphere: It's as likely a habitat for Shakermaker's casual falsetto-led pop and Gray Young's broad-brush guitar washes as any. There's no need for abrupt immediacy. Just listen as the light melodies seep into heavy air. With Birds & Arrows at 10:30 p.m. for $5. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly 6/18/08

DuoFest: local bands find freedom and challenge in duo form: Two by two

by Bryan Reed

Freedom, like love and hate, doesn't mean so much anymore. It's been stripped of its conceptual gravity, cavalierly used to describe how cars handle, to characterize rollover minutes in cell phone plans and to rally those who love the word to war. But for the two-person bands playing DuoFest this weekend in Durham, freedom—specifically, the freedom to explore music-making outside of typical solo or full-band formats—is key.

But such freedom is an invigorating challenge, too, meaning bands with leaner lineups have to find ways—either through volume, multi-instrumentalists or compositional maneuvers—to make their music stick. Whether talking the impressionistic folk of Sawteeth McTweedy or the electronic indie pop of Opening Flower Happy Bird, a duo can't apologize for not being a full band. The open space of a smaller roster leaves room for interpretation, a no man's land where unconventional methodology reigns supreme.

For The Curtains of Night, a Chapel Hill metal duo, the solution was technology. Guitarist Nora Rogers plays a hulking tube amplifier she built herself. Its bold sound doesn't give you room to wonder where the other band members are.

"I don't feel like in a way we're a typical duo, because Nora's sound is just so massive," says drummer Lauren Fitzpatrick, whose own start-stop clatter builds plenty of momentum. "You do have to kind of make up for something that's usually there—not necessarily something that's missing, but something that people are used to having."

Dave Cantwell, a co-organizer of DuoFest, says making compelling music as a duo isn't all about volume in his bass-and-drums band, The Whole World Laughing. Instead, they just write harder music.

"You have to compensate with compositional density," Cantwell says. "You have to be able to pack more ideas into one song."

Durham's Resist Not, though, is neither complex nor particularly loud. Frontman Aaron Ward says the duo form can be confining because the Hammond organ or five-piece horn section he may hear in his head isn't on stage, but the stripped-down setup makes the songwriting that much more important. "For me it's not about musicianship, because I don't feel like I'm an accomplished guitar player," says Ward, "but I feel like it lets us focus on song structures and songcraft."

Eleni Binge co-organizes the festival with Cantwell and plays in duo Beloved Binge with her husband, Rob Beloved. She agrees: "It's all about the lack of excess, so you're just down to the basic core: What do you need to make a really good song?"

And once the song is strong, the two members have to find a way to present. Sitting behind the drumkit, Binge not only sets the rhythm but sings, plays keyboards and plays guitar. Like her own motion, Beloved Binge songs are busy, using shifting rhythm and keys and two different verses sometimes sung at once.

"Your limitation is also your asset," says Binge. "There's no added weight, so the two members have to each do something that's not just keeping a standard beat. Usually there's a lot going on."

For these bands, the constraints of being a duo aren't obstacles to overcome, but opportunities to explore a new approach. The level of close interaction between two musicians allows for quirk and style, not just four-piece, four-on-the-floor rock 'n' roll. "There's just such an amazing diversity of artists around here and everybody's exploring music in their own way," says Ward. "They're exploring their own musical interests and musical tastes."

DuoFest starts at 3 p.m. Saturday, June 7, at Bull City Headquarters. Headliners The Curtains of Night goes on at 12:30 a.m. The preceding line-up, in reverse order, is Opening Flower Happy Bird, Jews & Catholics, Apis Bull, Spacelab, Sequoia, The Whole World Laughing, The Saint Peter Pocket Veto, Beloved Binge, Fortress of Swatches, Speedsquare, The Scientific Superstar, Sawteeth McTweedy, Resist Not!, All Your Science, Horned Goat Cookie Party and 2013 Wolves. Tickets are $5.

Independent Weekly, 6/4/08

Hearing Aid

Yes, Please

06.07 SCHOONER/ HUNDRED AIR @ LOCAL 506

If Chapel Hill bands Schooner and Hundred Air work for similar tastes (those of indie pop glory), they don't work for similar moods. Schooner's shadowy pop seeps darkness into cheery melodies, washing both behind reverb-and-keys haze. Hundred Air keeps a contented bounce in its strums and in frontman Adam Price's encouraging tenor. Point, counterpoint, all good. 10 p.m.—Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 6/4/08

8 Days A Week

Chapel Hill
Luego, Paleface
The Cave—Luego frontman Patrick Phelan and Paleface couldn't sound more different: Phelan's voice is a smooth Neil Young drawl, resting comfortably in the upper register, and Paleface carries a deep, sore-throated instrument, like tires that have been treading the same gravel daily for a few decades. But the two match musically, both kicking up dust-cloud shuffles of mid-tempo Americana, Luego with a fine-grained smoothness in its strings and Paleface with a grittier back-porch rollick. Paleface kicks it off at 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Chapel Hill
Red Collar, Future Kings of Nowhere
Hell—Before Red Collar gets a chance to play to the late crowd anthems they'll feel like they've known for years, Pennsylvania's Endless Mike and the Beagle Club will have played a raggedy sort of punk, like a drunker World/ Inferno Friendship Society; The Future Kings of Nowhere will have turned relationship anxieties into frantic choruses; and you'll realize that a dark, smoky bar with PBR on tap is custom fit for this triple bill. Get in free at 9 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 6/4/08

Hearing Aid

Yes, Please

05.30 HAMMER NO MORE/ CAVERNS @ NIGHTLIGHT

Local trio Hammer No More the Fingers and D.C. instrumentalists Caverns share a producer in J. Robbins (Jawbox), who's helming both bands' forthcoming full-lengths. But that's not a namedrop: Both bands give the listener just a moment's notice before diving in headlong, Hammer with its staggering riffs lunging into ferocious rhythms, and Caverns with its classically inclined piano lead, which pulls prettiness out of unsuspecting noise squalls. 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Introducing...

5.31 TRKFEST @ PIEDMONT BIOFUELS

Piedmont Biofuels, a biodiesel plant in Pittsboro, seems a dubious locale for an all-day music festival. But the industrial site will indeed host TRKfest, a dozen-band bill presented by Chapel Hill label Trekky Records. After all, Piedmont Biofuels says its facility has become a place marked by "lots of activity, enterprise, and like-minded individuals working in their own ways toward a different way of being." Could any description be better suited to Trekky, too?

According to Trekky co-founder Will Hackney, the festival is not only a fundraiser for the label itself but also a chance to bring several non-Trekky bands together for one event. Aside from the usual Trekky-affiliated suspects—The Never, Endless Mic, Embarrassing Fruits, Barghest, Butterflies, Wil Donegan & the Apologies—the bill includes Raleigh's Bowerbirds and Durham bands Megafaun, Hammer No More The Fingers, Sweet By & By and The Future Kings of Nowhere.

"We are hoping with this event to raise money so we can release all of the great records we have recorded, so it will be supporting our artist collective and our endeavor," says Hackney. "Our first allegiance is to Trekky, but a close second is to the Triangle music scene and the Triangle in general."

To that end, TRKfest will also offer goods from local artists and vendors, heightening the festival ambience. Whether it grows into an annual event remains to be seen. One thing is for certain though: Just as Piedmont Biofuels strives for sustainable energy, Trekky aims to continue fueling the Triangle music scene. Get your fill at 2 p.m. Piedmont Biofuels is located at 547 Industrial Park Dr. in Pittsboro. A $10 donation is suggested. For more, see www.biofuels.coop. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 5/28/08

The Pneurotics: Forty (self-released)

by Bryan Reed

The Pneurotics, a Chapel Hill trio with Durham ties, plays primarily on jagged riffs and rough-hewn vocals. But on debut LP Forty, the band creates an unlikely sort of harmony, the sort that comes from self-assuredness and a solid foundation of fundamentals. Forty radiates a calm confidence, the wisdom of a veteran matched by the genuinely youthful joy of discovery. Rich McLaughlin has been writing songs since he was a teenager, but Mimi McLaughlin provides bass and backing vocals; she joined the band after the first bass player left for Russia. Rich's voice carries the worn-in reliability of a baseball glove trusty from long use, and when Mimi's bass walks off on its own near the end, it sounds young, adventurous, fun. When the guitar rejoins the bassline for a coda, the metaphor comes full circle.

Indeed, for the married couple-turned-rock band, the dust of growing up has settled. But this new maturity means new chances. There's nothing revolutionary about the sound, no epic excursions into uncharted waters, but the comforting solidity of it all is refreshing. The Pneurotics self-describe as "fun indie rock with a hint of twang." Those terms suit them best on "S. Rose," a shuffling country-rock story of a girl-done-wrong. Rich's sandy vocals come softened by Mimi's backing harmonies. The "fun indie rock" is in the biting guitar tones slipping through distortion, the "hint of twang" in the vocals and the crossroads of the characters. It's often playful and smart, too, like on "The Pedestrian," where Rich slings crispy, distorted lines at guest trumpeter Nate Osborne's brassy tones. The instruments dance around each other like a mongoose and a cobra, each looking to deliver the fatal blow.

Forty concludes with the gorgeous finger-picked solo "Song for Grace." The soft side doesn't sound forced or misfit, but rather like a sigh, equal parts relief of finishing something and pride in its creation. It's a fitting end for a debut that's a balanced mix of character and promise.

The Pneurotics play a CD release show at Local 506 with The Proclivities, Hammer and Red Collar Saturday, May 17, at 9 p.m.. The $7 cover includes a free copy of Forty.

Independent Weekly, 5/14/08

8 Days A Week

Carrboro
Beloved Binge, Grappling Hook
Reservoir—Durham duo Beloved Binge headlines a no-cover workweek respite. Husband and wife Rob Beloved and Eleni Binge spin charming songs out of bare-boned arrangements and vocal counterpoints, the prize being a teetering balance of Beloved's dry baritone with Binge's enthusiastic alto. Grappling Hook—fronted by the always theatrical Torch Marauder—demands rapt attention and offers immediate entertainment in return. Also, Richmond's Marionette. Music starts around 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 5/14/08

New Polvo age

by Bryan Reed

As Polvo's anticipated Cat's Cradle show approached on Saturday, the sun hanging heavily over the late afternoon horizon, guitarist Dave Brylawski and bassist Steve Popson took a break after soundcheck to talk about changing times, evolving sounds and indie rock mythology.

Click for larger image • Guitarist Dave Brylawski (center) and bassist Steve Popson Photo by Jeremy M. Lange

INDEPENDENT WEEKLY: What do you think, since you've last been playing frequently, has changed, and what has stayed the same?

STEVE POPSON: Well, George Bush has been president, so it's sucked for America.

DAVE BRYLAWSKI: I feel like the instant criticism of the Internet was sort of just formulating when we were ending. So that was happening at the very end of our arc. But I feel that's a big difference—the music blogs and how bands just sort of pop up out of nowhere and get really big and get a lot of Internet hype and then sort of trail off.

SP: And, I mean, that's a pretty wide-ranging question. The industry's different, you know...

DB: But I don't think that affects us.

SP: No. do you mean, like in regards to Polvo?

Yeah.

DB: Nothing. Nothing that affects us. It's like we're still...

SP: We're doing this for a lot of fun reasons.

How did the ... I guess "reformation" is probably the more appropriate term...

DB: Yeah, we don't think of it as a reunion necessarily because we're sort of looking ahead. We're not just getting up there and playing our old songs. We're playing a couple new songs, and we've reformulated some of the older songs.

SP: It's the next chapter.

DB: But, we'd been asked a few times before and always mulled it over and considered it. We've come close a few times. I think when Explosions In The Sky asked us to play the ATP in England, they gave us enough of a head start, like seven months. We were like, "Yeah, we could try." And we committed to it before we even knew if it would come together, but, after a couple practices, we knew we had enough to work with. It's fun to play with each other again.

What is the balance between old songs versus new songs?

DB: We only have a couple new songs. We've just started doing that.

SP: But every old song has been reapproached.

DB: Some of the old songs are pretty faithful, but a couple of them, we've just taken like the essence of the old song and sort of reformulated it from scratch.

SP: Yeah. Some of them might be one-half percent different, another might be 50 percent different. But each song, I think, has sort of allowed Dave and Ash [Bowie, other Polvo guitarist] to rethink about what they liked and didn't like about it. And we had the time to change it.

DB: It's weird. I don't think many bands get a second chance to revisit old material and sort of retrofit stuff that you wish you would have done back then.

Did you have any hand in selecting the opening bands?

SP: Yeah, those are just two bands we like. We could have picked a lot of locals, but I mean, I used to own King's, so I've seen hundreds of local bands, and those I just think really fit the style and the atmosphere of the night.

DB: Des Ark is just a great band. You ask what's different. When Steve and I—all of us, when we were like 19—and coming to the Cradle for the first time—we'd go see shows three nights a week. I sound like a nostalgic old man, but the '90s were a really exciting time—and I'm sure it's no different for any era when you experience it at that age—but for us it was really exciting. It's interesting coming back as a 39-year-old. I can't believe I'm admitting my age. It sort of feels like it's familiar and nothing's different, but everything's different at the same time.

How has the band dynamic changed with the change in drummers.

DB: That's a difficult question because I don't feel like the actual drummer has changed the dynamic. I feel like we're a little bit more mature and we're more confident musically, I guess. I mean Polvo started when we were like 20, right?

SP: Uh-huh.

DB: This is gonna sound really stupid, but it's not like we're pros, but we're more pro than we were. So it's just like, we're friends and there's an ease to it. I guess the sense of urgency when you're younger is gone, but that's a calming thing. Does that make sense?

SP: Yeah, that makes sense.

DB: In terms of Brian [Quast, formerly of the Cherry Valence, now the new Polvo drummer], he's a good friend of ours. We just love hanging out with him and we love playing. He's a great drummer. It's an easy dynamic, but it's always been: We were friends with Eddie [Watkins] and Brian Walsby. We usually play with people we're friends with.

It's funny because it's a weird time. A lot of bands are reforming now. Like for some reason, this summer is like the time of bands coming back together, and we're just one of those bands. But, you know, people can be weird about that or whatever, but, you know, we have fun playing music. Old people play music, too.

So the biggest thing that made it happen this time was just having a long enough head's up?

SP: That's oversimplifying the fact that me and Dave and Ash have all been really busy for the past 10 years. We've been extremely busy. Because the other two main shows we'd been asked to play were the Merge and the Touch & Go anniversaries, both of which we really wanted to do. It's just with our personal lives...

DB: Because I live in New York. It would be different if I was here, but it's a commitment that I have to come down at least once or twice a month. Which is why with this ATP thing we really had enough time to sketch out when I was coming down.

The thing is though—and I'm speaking for me, though I'm sure Steve will back me up on this—is that playing with Ash is just really special. He's a really special musician and a great friend. I've wondered at one point, "Will we ever play with Ash again?" And I've always wanted to, so I jumped at the chance just to play with Ash. [Ed.'s note: Steve and Dave also play in the band Black Taj together.]

I feel like ATP has done a lot to get bands back together.

SP: Well, I feel like that's a key point to the industry change. This is gonna be our first festival, and that's pretty common now. That's one of the biggest changes, and I have a feeling it's gonna hang that way, as gas prices become too high. Who knows what it'll be like in 10 years. It might be that instead of seeing a band every week, you see eight bands in one weekend. That might just be the way you see live music. Who knows what'll happen.

DB: When gas is like 80 bucks a gallon.

SP: Yeah, and you have to take the train to one show, instead of driving to a bunch of them. But festivals really allow the opportunity for this kind of stuff to happen.

DB: When Polvo was around, the only festivals you had were Bumbershoot, maybe Bonnaroo [Ed.'s note: Bonnaroo started after Polvo broke up in 1998.] and then Lollapalooza, and that was it. And now every mid- or major city has a festival, which I think is cool. But ATP really does have its specialty in bringing bands back together.

SP: That whole concept of the [playing an old] album thing is great. It's funny, though, because that's what we said we couldn't do.

DB: I mean, they didn't ask us to, but when they first put it out there I thought that was all they wanted, was albums, and I was like, "We can't do that. We can't play an album."

SP: That'd be a lot of work. That'd take about two years.

With the new material, this doesn't feel like a museum piece, either.

DB: When Ash, Steve and I were sort of conceptualizing this, we didn't want to go back and recreate. I mean, we couldn't. We played really shitty, cheap guitars, and now we don't do that anymore. And we're not 20 anymore, so we were like, "Let's just sort of start from scratch." But we're not going to be playing a set with 90 percent new material anytime soon. We like the old songs.

SP: It was a chance to revisit songs that I still enjoy, and I enjoy playing.

DB: We're really enjoying it. And I'm not speaking for these guys, I'm speaking for me personally, but I feel like—and this is sort of what I was saying about when we were young and just in the moment—but now that I'm a little older, I'm really savoring these moments and playing with these guys, in a way that, in 1995, I was just, "Yeah, it's cool." And now I can just be more mindful of the friendships and the musical connections. It sounds really sappy. [Laughs.]

How do you feel to be tagged with the term "influential" or "legendary."

SP: Oh, legendary is ridiculous.

DB: I'll say this. We're influential, but look at who we're influenced by. We're influenced by classic rock and SST and Homestead bands: Sonic Youth, Meat Puppets, Minutemen. To me it's all a continuum.

SP: We have been legendarily bad.

DB: We have been legendarily bad before.

SP: Or legendarily inconsistent.

DB: It's not something you spend a lot of time thinking about.

SP: It's a very positive thing for somebody to say that, but I don't see it, and I don't think any of us dwell on it.

DB: Because music is that continuum. I mean, in the way that Des Ark is influencing 15 year-olds now.

SP: There'll be some kids making music that will reference them as an influence. But do they look at themselves as an influence? No. They're just playing the music they enjoy playing.

Do you feel that once you've been given a title like that that there's some responsibility to live up to it?

DB: We sort of reject that. It's Polvo's nature to kind of opt out of that kind of. It's not a burden...

SP: I think we feel burdened to play our music the best we can.

DB: Really, the bottom line is the four of us have to enjoy it, and anything else that comes over and above that is sort of icing. If you stop and think too much about that sort of meta-musical stuff, it just becomes distracting.

Independent Weekly, 5/14/2008

Polvo mixes old, new: Cat's Cradle - Saturday, May 10

by Bryan Reed

As the four members of Polvo took to the Cat's Cradle stage for the first time in a decade Saturday night, the clock at stage left—glowing a piercing blue against the dark venue—read 11:37 p.m. At that late hour, after opening sets from Noncanon and Des Ark, the venue's floor was flooded by a mass of fans, a saturated canvas of people stretching from stage edge to back bar without break. They were eager for the return of one of the most distinctive, influential bands to emerge in the 1990s indie rock scene, and that's what they got. Sort of.

Click for larger image • The sell-out crowd was dense and attentive. Photo by Jeremy M. Lange

Indeed, it's been a while for Polvo: The canvas was dotted by members of the local scene's current crop of musicians, many of them influenced by records Polvo made 15 years ago. Such a legacy shone onstage even before Polvo could get there. One could hear it in Noncanon's tug-of-war between hypnotic repetitions and unexpected deviations in structure, and in Des Ark's alternate tunings, dissonant notes and squirming guitar melodies.

Some superfans had driven hours or paid hundreds to get through the Cradle's doors. A woman doled $100 each for two tickets and drove her husband, who had a broken leg, to Carrboro from Tennessee because he loved the band so. One guy drove from Orlando, Fla., and wouldn't stop talking about how Polvo was the greatest, how he would have driven anywhere to see them, how certain he was that a reunion would never happen. He was glad it did.

But, for the band, this wasn't a reunion gig: "We don't think of it as a 'reunion' necessarily. We're sort of looking ahead," Dave Brylawski, one half of Polvo's famously intertwining guitars, said before the show.

"It's the next chapter," continued bassist Steve Popson.

As the set progressed, their assertions made sense: New songs were added to the mix, including the set opener, listed on guitarist Ash Bowie's setlist as "Mega." While some old favorites, like 1994's "Fractured (Like Chandeliers)," were immediately recognizable, others had changed significantly. And at least one warped by accident after the head of Brylawski's amplifier failed. As he scrambled for a replacement, the remaining members—originals Bowie and Popson with new drummer Brian Quast—simply repeated the riff until the problem was solved.

Click for larger image • Ash Bowie checks one of his guitars backstage before Polvo's first Cat's Cradle show in 10 years Saturday night. Photo by Jeremy M. Lange

The band maintained its core dynamic of repeated variations on a riff that suddenly veered in new directions with rhythm shifts or a new two-guitar slither. But this was Polvo as Polvo is, not as Polvo was. The band seemed confident, less reliant on abruptness than on finesse these days.

"I don't think many bands get a second chance to revisit old material and sort of retrofit stuff," said Brylawski. "There's an ease to it, that the sense of urgency when you're younger is gone, but that's sort of a calming thing."

Maybe the urgency was just different, though, because it was certainly there, on the stage, a band with veteran poise meeting a hungry crowd. An equipment malfunction that could have ruined the show seemed like a reason to keep going. And when Polvo finally exploded into "Tragic Carpet Ride" to close the show, the audience exploded with them, as if everyone had been given a second chance simply because these old songs had found new air in an old, familiar environment.

Independent Weekly, 5/14/08

The Pressure Boys and The Sneakers cash in their reunions for charity: Where the Boys went

by Bryan Reed

Band reunions, too often, stink: Musicians exit retirement for one last ride atop fading legacies, resurrecting ghosts "for the fans," nostalgia and a final cash-in. From Van Hagar and The Misfits to INXS and Blind Melon, some past-their-prime acts tarnish past glories with a new, usually sub-par frontman.

And with a recent influx of indie rock returns (Dinosaur Jr., The Lemonheads, Slint), the last-hurrah effect is no longer just the scourge of the amphitheater. Closer to home, Cat's Cradle's summer schedule welcomes reformed Polvo with Brian Quast replacing drummer Eddie Watkins, a special anniversary tour from L.A. punk vets X, and a (technically still active) Mudhoney.

But while Dinosaur Jr.'s Beyond and The Lemonheads' self-titled return were both solid, a reunion tour often reeks of mothballs, dust and cleared credit card debt. So what, then, is to be made of aging gracefully, of returning only when something truly meaningful arises, the rare—but entirely plausible—noble reunion?

Enter The Pressure Boys, a Chapel Hill band that hit its peak more than two decades ago. The sextet formed at Chapel Hill High School, eventually building a cult audience with an irreverent, catchy sound rooted in the 2 Tone ska of bands like The Specials and The English Beat. The Pressure Boys preceded the radio-friendly '90s ska explosion that made The Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Reel Big Fish temporary celebrities.

But The Pressure Boys missed that craze: Instead, the six members haven't played or even hung out together in 19 years, save for two daylong practices in January and a blitz of rehearsals just before a two-night stand at Cat's Cradle this weekend. Since the band's 1988 breakup, some of the Boys have remained in the music industry. The members' post-Pressure Boys résumé reads like a who's-who of sorts, including Squirrel Nut Zippers, Lud and Trailer Bride. Drummer Rob Ladd moved west, touring with Don Henley and playing on Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill. Singer/trombonist John Plymale is one of the area's premier producers, having recorded Superchunk, Valient Thorr and several dozen others. Saxophonist Greg Stafford, the black sheep, went to law school and took root as a Pittsboro attorney. So why try it again now?

"Everybody was pretty much against it," says Plymale of the earliest mentions of a reunion. "We just wanted to let it lie. The memories of it were probably better than it would be if we [reunited], you know?"

But, as it's wont to do, misfortune brought people—in this case, six musicians—back together: Plymale's daughter, Allie, was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis at the age of 2. In 2006, Plymale used two decades of making connections in the music industry to shape a compilation, Songs For Sixty-Five Roses, which benefited the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Two Dollar Pistols covered Superchunk. Portastatic covered Ryan Adams. Plymale says the compilation and an associated series of concerts were very successful, and he hints at a second volume that includes more national artists. But first, The Pressure Boys will continue the fundraising charge with these shows. This was the right time and reason to reunite.

"Since this was a different thing, it sounded like a fun way to do it," says Plymale.

But they needed company to complete the time warp: For that, Plymale enlisted longtime friends and fellow N.C. rock heroes/producers extraordinaire Mitch Easter and Chris Stamey to open with a reunion of their teen-years band, The Sneakers. The Sneakers formed in Winston-Salem and moved to Chapel Hill in the late-'70s. With a sound of garage-rock attitude, melodic hooks and fuzzy jangle, the band helped construct the area's indie rock foundation. Those tendencies would become more pronounced and renowned in Stamey's dB's and Easter's Let's Active.

"I'm real good friends with Chris, and we've batted around ideas for a long time about who would be a good band to have open the show," says Plymale. "And I was just talking to Chris, and I'd talked some to Mitch, too, and before you knew it was a Sneakers reunion show, too."

Stamey says The Sneakers' reunion impetus is largely about preserving the actual music, much like the reason The dB's recently reformed.

"Personally, I like the songs," says Stamey, adding that The Sneakers as a live band was unknown until after the breakup. "The recordings, which were raw 'indie rock' bedroom recordings before there was a proliferation of such, don't always, in my opinion, do the songs justice, and I think that we can bring new life to the music at the Cradle. Also, we all like a challenge."

The Sneakers reissued its output as Nonsequitur of Silence last year. Similarly, The Pressure Boys will release its The Incomplete Recordings this year. But Plymale stresses that a quality rock show is more important than a halfhearted museum piece: "As irreverent as we were back in the day, we definitely try to put on a good show and play well," he says. So this weekend means dusting off old songs, taking another go at old glory and understanding that 20 years is a long time apart. "Now we're all grown up and have families. We're still the same people, but we view things a little differently."

But the cause this time is at the front of everybody's minds.

"I think The Sneakers would have played at some point," Stamey says, "but we are thrilled to be a part of this benefit in particular. Allie is such a sweetheart."

The Pressure Boys and The Sneakers join Dillon Fence/ Hobex frontman Greg Humphreys for a two-night stand at Cat's Cradle Friday, May 2, and Saturday, May 3. Friday is sold out, but tickets remain for Saturday and cost $16-$20. Both shows begin at 9 p.m.

Independent Weekly, 4/30/2008

Bellafea goes into beast mode

Shuffle Magazine, issue #2. http://www.morisen.com/ShuffleVol2.pdf

Bellafea goes into beast mode
In person, Bellafea is an unassuming trio. Polite. Soft spoken. Gentle, even.

But on record? Sharp, full-bodied, dynamic and visceral. And live? Monsters.

What started in 2001 as the duo of singer/guitarist Heather McEntire and drummer Nathan Buchanan practicing in Buchanan’s parents’ home in Wilmington, N.C., has, as of January, 2007, grown to include Fin Fang Foom’s Eddie Sanchez on bass.

“It’s taken a long time to become a three-piece,” says McEntire. “We had to find the right person,” she adds with a smile.

And it’s changed the sound, too. Not only by adding “muscle and texture,” as McEntire describes it, but in the rhythmic approaches as well.

“I used to chase the vocals a lot,” says Buchanan. “Now I’m trying to work more with Eddie.”

The new sound is bolder and fuller without losing any of the bristling angularity that helped make the earlier recordings – like 2004’s six-track EP, Family Tree (Pidgeon English) — so powerful.

And there’s still the important constant of McEntire’s meticulous writing. Having studied creative writing at UNC-Wilmington, she blends metaphor with autobiographical specificity to
create powerful narratives from poignant slivers of life.

“I’m successful at writing a song when the music and lyrics click together, and it feels like a genuine representation of that moment,” she says.

And in May, the band will reveal the newfangled trio version of itself with their much-anticipated full-length, Cavalcade (Southern Records), named for the ideas of plurality and collaboration that went into its creation.

On the LP, Bellafea is joined by a legion of musical friends, notable enough to be considered a selling point. But the band is careful not to be defined by its associates, or solely on the strength of its recorded output.

Bellafea is determined to let its dynamic time-bomb of a stage show be the measuring stick.
It’s a good one, too, with Buchanan and Sanchez providing a thick, heavy low-end to McEntire’s excitable presence behind the microphone.

However Bellafea is to be measured, though, this is the time for it, as plans for extensive touring in support of Cavalcade and a follow-up in 2009 begin to materialize. BRYAN REED

Shuffle Magazine, issue #2. http://www.morisen.com/ShuffleVol2.pdf

Exploring Charleston: The seaside city's secret spots

Shuffle Magazine, issue #2.
http://www.morisen.com/ShuffleVol2.pdf

Hot Spots
Exploring Charleston: The seaside city's secret spots
Jason Brewer knows his way around a pop song. And as his band’s sunshine-’n’-sea-breeze tunes might suggest, the principal songwriter for Charleston’s The Explorers Club also knows his way around his beachfront hometown.
While he’s ready to admit that Charleston doesn’t have the liveliest local scene—“The local newspapers don’t cover us terribly a lot,” he says—he’s proof enough that good bands are to
be found: The Explorers Club is preparing for the release of Freedom Wind, on the steadily ascending indie Dead Oceans (Bowerbirds, Bishop Allen, Evangelicals). Likewise, despite the city’s tourist-laden image, it houses healthy shares of interesting and off-beat destinations—the kind only locals know about. Venues such as the refurbished Music Farm, The Charleston Music Hall, The Map Room, Village Tavern and the Pour House host local and touring acts, proving that there is a rock ’n’ roll world to be found in Charleston County.
Because of the band’s touring, Brewer confesses many of his favorite hangouts are outside of Charleston. “Our biggest fanbase, surprisingly, isn’t in the South, it’s more Westerly,” he
adds, noting affections for L.A. and Asheville. Nevertheless, he didn’t have much trouble picking out his favorite places to visit at home.

52.5RECORDS
Charleston’s lucky enough to still have a good record store. The city’s obligatory (at least they ought to be) disc shop, 52.5 Records, gets points from Brewer for its prices, selection and,
most of all, atmosphere. “They always have really cheap stuff like, I found a bunch of old Burt Bacharach vinyls for 99 cents,” he recounts. “And they’ll have local bands come in and do instores and stuff.” On its Web site, 52.5 states its mission with no ambiguity: “to provide a good selection of music, focusing on artists outside of the commercial mainstream.” The store’s
longevity—it opened in 1997—might be attributable to its indie friendly attitude, or maybe it’s the customer-friendly attitude. Brewer says, “They have a very nice store—you don’t walk in
and feel like you’re immediately under attack by record snobs.”
561 King St, Charleston, SC 29403
corporaterocksucks.com
(843) 722-3525

PUBLIC LIBRARY
“My favorite hangout place is the Charleston County Public Library – the main branch,” Brewer says. The library might not seem, on paper, like the most happening of places, but he defends
his stomping grounds, explaining, “That is a great place because they also have local music a lot – which is uncharacteristic of libraries.” The library’s auditorium occasionally hosts live local bands, even recording their live performances from time to time. Brewer also noted the library’s wide selection of movies (free to check out) as a selling point. Then there’s the whole using the library as a center for local culture, instead of as just a building full of books, which is pretty cool, too.
68 Calhoun Street, Charleston, SC 29401
ccpl.org
(843) 805-6801

THE RECYCLED COWBOY
If Western wear typically suits your style, but not your budget, The Recycled Cowboy offers a selection of new and used cowboy/girl duds, plus rodeo gear and equipment. The store claims
a buy-trade-barter-consign policy when it comes to its inventory of new and used clothes. No matter the motive, The Recycled Cowboy is the place to go for some frontier fashion—even when
you’re broke. “A lot of people go there for the like ‘going out on the town, Southern style’ thing,” says Brewer, careful to add, “which is not why I would go there.”
181 College Park Road, Ladson, SC 29456
recycledcowboy.com
(843)-569-7573

JESTINE’S KITCHEN
Southern cooking and local flavor make Jestine’s kitchen a favorite Charleston eatery. Frommer’s lists Jestine’s as the place the tourist board sends visitors when they ask for “a native place to eat.” Homey décor and homestyle cooking make for a restaurant where tourists and locals alike can mingle freely. The renowned and inviting array of soul food from ham and grits, to fried chicken and cornbread to Coca-Cola cake, makes it a favorite spot to find a comfortable, but nice sit-down meal—especially for special occasions. “When the guys have their birthday they like going there,” Brewer says.
251 Meeting St., Charleston, SC 29401
(843) 722-7224

THE VILLAGE TAVERN
“My favorite venue is one of the smallest places in town called the Village Tavern,” says Brewer. The Mt. Pleasant pub offers local and touring acts (Man Man and The Handsome Furs being
some of the Spring schedule’s biggest names) most nights, as well as a full menu of staple grub—burgers, hot dogs, wings and beer. “It’s almost like a sports bar,” he adds. “They have a cool little stage, and we play there a lot because the owner’s nice and the food is actually really good.” Additionally, the Tavern keeps the people entertained with daily specials including beer pong and pizza on Mondays and team trivia on Tuesdays.
1055 Johnnie Dodds Blvd., Mt. Pleasant, S.C. 29464
village-tavern.com
(843) 884-6311

story by Bryan Reed

Click on These

Shuffle Magazine, issue #2
http://www.morisen.com/ShuffleVol2.pdf

Exit Box (Huntersville)
myspace.com/exitboxnc
Exit Box front man Holocaust Mike delivers his lyrics with a raw-throated exasperation that makes comparisons to Rites of Spring and Fugazi wailer Guy Picciotto come easy. The band battles Mike’s lunging howls with churning, tumultuous instrumentals, evoking a classic emocore style, both fresh and confrontational. Despite having only a 3-song demo and a handful of local shows under their belts, the young punks from Huntersville have the rage and passion of legends in the making. (BR)

Seth Kauffman (Black Mountain)
sethkauffman.com
With a weary moan, Seth Kauffman laments “Sometimes you just don’t feel like digging” on his sophomore LP, Research. But the sentiment doesn’t apply to Kauffman’s music, which, as the
album title suggests, is built on archival understanding of various vintage styles ranging from bossa nova to Southern soul, rockabilly and blues. It lends Kauffman’s rough-hewn arrangements the wonder of a collection of beautiful elements, collaged to create something new from pieces of the past. (BR)

Between The Buried And Me (Winston-Salem)
betweentheburiedandme.com
At large, metalcore is a tangled, ridiculous mess of expressionless algebra – but Between The Buried And Me is a glorious exception to the rule. With 2007’s Colors, BTBAM delivers a dramatic exploration of varied hues from brutal blast beats and pummeling riffs to soaring melodic phrases. But more unexpected sonic detours give the band a depth unheard of in the
genre. It’s a start-to-finish masterpiece of American metal accomplished with virtuosic grace and fluidity. (BR)

The Artichokes (Pawleys Island)
myspace.com/theartichokes
The Artichokes, like countless other young garage bands have a modest foundation: a few shows, some demo recordings and oodles of enthusiasm. But they’ve also got one up on their peers – boundless potential. This is a band that can turn songs about homesick Martians or seafaring adventures into pure charm with earnest delivery and endearingly goofy songwriting. “Sweater
Weather” exemplifies the band’s precociousness and wide-eyed optimism, and shows future promise for the band. (BR)

Jozeemo (Durham)
myspace.com/jozeemo
Never content to merely allude to violence in his crime narratives, Durham’s Jozeemo spills blood-soaked images with disturbing detail, putting listeners into the trembling line-of-sight
of one of Joe Murda’s victims. On his latest mixtape, The Untold Story, Jozeemo virulently threatens to “leave your brains on your homeboy’s Air Force Ones.” Consistently, the newest addition to Hall of Justus’ esteemed roster puts enough horror in his rhymes to scare the glamour out of the street. (BR)

Cool John Ferguson (Beaufort, SC)
cooljohnferguson.com
On his latest, With These Hands, S.C. guitarist Cool John Ferguson distills the core elements of Southern Gospel, blues, R&B and funk into a savory home-brew of decidedly Dixie delicacy. His chops are particularly on display with “I Think About You Daily,” which has Ferguson letting his smooth-toned six-string do the bulk of the talking as it offers blazing counterpoints to the understated vocal phrases. The guitar wails, it grunts, and it lifts his music to inspirational heights. (BR)

Shove it in Your Earhole

Shuffle Magazine, issue #2
http://www.morisen.com/ShuffleVol2.pdf

AHLEUCHATISAS
The Same and the Other (re-issue)
tzadik.com
The musicianship on this 2004 LP from Asheville’s Ahleuchatistas is like sharpshooting with a shotgun – somehow, despite logic, each note in the barrage hits its mark. The album delivers a full portion of frantic tempos, and dynamic and uncompromising rhythmic shifts over the course of 12 tracks that might as well be one epic jam. It’s quite astounding, really, the number of notes and the speed at which they’re being played, all without ever sounding out of place in time or timbre. It’s so consistently mindboggling that it renders picking standout tracks an arbitrary gesture, though it’s now reissued on John Zorn’s Tzadik label with five new songs that trade the confrontational catchiness of the original 12 with less-approachable but still interesting meanderings. But since the original is out of print, the re-issue would be worth it, even if the bonus tracks totally sucked.
Bryan Reed

ASG
Win Us Over
volcoment.com
The problem with ASG’s Win Us Over, to put it simply, is that when hard rock ceases to be exciting, surprising and confrontational, it ceases to be worth listening to. For all its brazen cover art and galloping guitars, the record isn’t likely to win anyone over who likes exciting, surprising
or confrontational music. The band is epitomized by the aptly titled “The Dull Blade,” which abandons a promising intro for monotonous Hetfieldian grumbles, metal-by-numbers guitars and what might be the most stupefying and repetitive guitar solo ever put to tape. Then there’s the obligatory acoustic track (for “depth”) that really just exposes the band’s frailty when the veil of distortion is lifted. Really, it’s kind of sad when an album’s standout track (“Right Before
Death”) is only the best track because it’s the least slack-jawed. But as ready-made for Clear Channel radio as ASG might be, it’s not Nickelback, so there’s always that.
Bryan Reed

AUTOPASSION
Sit Back and Make a Difference
myspace.com/autopassion
Autopassion’s Sit Back and Make a Difference isn’t nearly as didactic as its title might suggest. There’s nary a political whim to be found; no difference to be made. Just 11 examples of how influential The Strokes actually are. It’s got that faded T-shirt garage rock feel with enough
slick swagger to provide a party pulse. And with songs like “Youths,” a tangle of familiar, but nonetheless inviting bass guitar slither, palm-muted anxiety and Casablancas cool oozing from the vocals, it’s easy to fall for Autopassion’s come-ons. Head-bobbin’ grooves are in no short supply and coolly dispassionate choruses beg to be sung along to. It’s fun times. But at the end of the day, there’s a whole lot more sitting back than making a difference.
Bryan Reed

BEACH HOUSE
Devotion
carparkrecords.com
Hearing the sophomore album from Baltimore’s Beach House isn’t far removed from listening to a high school prom from behind closed doors – a distant sound you can’t help but associate with love and happiness that will never quite be yours. No wonder, then, that it’s given the name Devotion, a level of loving attention teetering between sentimental and creepy. When Victoria Legrand croons, “Oh, but your wish is my command” before guitars begin dueling for attention –
the first a crisp Les Paul tone, the second steeped in burly fuzz – on “Wedding Bell,” it’s clear that there will be no easy way to part from this. Sentimentality drips from Legrand’s warm coos, and it’s augmented by the trebly, spectral arrangements swooning behind her. The songs mesh
together in the dreamy mire, but it gives the album a consistent feeling of distant warmth – like a pined-after someone’s last dance with someone else.
Bryan Reed

THE EXPLORERS CLUB
Freedom Wind
deadoceans.com
The temptation to toss Freedom Wind out the proverbial car window as yet another Beach Boys rip-off is initially pretty strong. It kicks off with a song that boldly proclaims, “We could last forever.” Pretty infuriating. But then, there’s the fact that Charleston’s Explorers Club is
really gosh-darn good at sounding like The Beach Boys – and just enough like themselves to make it endearing instead of annoying. The multi-part harmonies are pristine, the songs are snow-cone-syrup sweet. And in spite of itself, it’s totally, rapturously charming. It’s every
bit as crush-inducing as it aims to be, pumping out note after swooning note of boardwalk courtship anthems. On the one hand, this is an entirely disposable pop album, the likes of which has certainly been seen before, plenty of times. But it’s just so freakin’ happy. Besides, does
candy ever stop tasting good?
Bryan Reed

HAMMER NO MORE THE FINGERS
Hammer No More The Fingers
powerteamrecords.com
Over the course of the seven tracks on its self-titled debut, Hammer No More The Fingers creates a sense of sprawling uncertainty with an irreverent tone and the sheepish sort of confidence that made indie rock important in the first place. Joe Hall’s spindly guitar ducks and weaves around the lurching rhythms provided by bassist Duncan Webster and drummer
Jeff Stickley. The songs wind up turning into gradually escalating bursts of frustrated energy. Take, for example, “Fall Down, Play Dead,” a tortured exploration of alienation that culminates in the album’s most dynamic, audience-inclusive finale. Webster’s vocals carry the weight
of the songs, which suits his ability to transition easily from wavering resignation (“Concrete”) to bold-faced bitterness (“Black Harmony”) while keeping in lock-step with the band’s energetic, even carefree swagger. It says “Life sucks, but we’re all friends here, so whatever,” with a hesitant but earnest grin. And it feels great.
Bryan Reed

LEMURIA
Get Better
asianmanrecords.com
This debut LP from Buffalo’s DIY darlings Lemuria is filled with empty spaces and a profound feeling of loss, but also enough hints of hopefulness to be ultimately cathartic. Snappy drumming, easygoing power chords and squirmy melodic lines provide a backbone for evocative lyrics
focused on small, significant images: lipstick, “the pack of cigarettes that you were always quitting,” a Hawaiian shirt. The emotional power is only multiplied by the conflicted duality in the pairing of Sheena Ozzella’s sweet, almost naïve vocals with Alexander Kerns’ resigned delivery. The 12 songs join forces for 28 and-a-half wonderful minutes to create a world where simple sentiments like “I miss you,” delivered in earnest, carry enormous gravity. Get Better careens through places we’ve been, and places we hope we never go again. But in the end, everything turns out okay for Lemuria. Maybe it will for us, too.
Bryan Reed

MEGAFAUN
Bury The Square
tableoftheelements.com
Megafaun’s Bury The Square is so overwhelmingly great it renders elaboration irrelevant. I’m tempted to write, “It’s great. Go buy it now,” and leave it at that. But this record deserves reams of praise for its ability to effortlessly contradict everything we thought folk music could or should be prior to hearing these six otherworldly songs. The epic “Where We Belong” best characterizes the album, beginning with the sublime melancholy of its foundational lament that slowly builds into a full-bodied wail of noise – feedback gnashing into harshly bowed strings and the insistent plodding of that first banjo. The 11-minute journey climaxes with abrasive and chaotic sound but returns again to serene beauty as hope emerges from turbulence. It moves physically, emotionally, and above all else, spiritually, as if existing outside of time. It’s great. Go buy it now.
Bryan Reed

THE STRUGGLERS
The Latest Rights
thestrugglers.org
Brice Randall Bickford II, the mind behind The Strugglers, takes on heady themes with his fourth LP. Characters feel fear, heartbreak, anger, loss, confusion. The world shakes its gnarled fist at its inhabitants, and in spite of it all Bickford’s slouching melancholy lifts off with his aching moans and his band’s gang’s-all-here backing. There’s the time-and-again comfort of knowing
that the songs are going to end up in the same place, soaring as soon as the cavalry arrives. And so The Strugglers are gonna keep on struggling, and we’re gonna let it play out because it feels like the right thing to do. Ultimately, The Latest Rights is a collection of knick-knacks on the
mantle: it’s pretty – colorful even – and it’s nice to have. But it’s also easy to pass right by.
Bryan Reed

VIOLET VECTOR AND THE LOVELY LOVELIES
EP I
www.holidaysforquince.com
Blake Schwartzenbach once posed the question: “What’s so wrong with a stupid, happy song?” Violet Vector and the Lovely Lovelies would most certainly reply with an immediate “Nothing!” because, you see, VVLL brand themselves as “the sunbeam sugarplum sound” and clearly would be nothing without “stupid, happy songs” (even if calling them stupid isn’t exactly accurate). This five-song sampler of giddy pop is meant to be played either on a hand-made cassette, or at 45 rpm. But this K Records/Brill Building concoction sounds just dandy on CD, as well. It’s as if by summoning images of Scooby and the gang groovin’ in some saccharine, idealized psychedelic past, VVLL has flipped the bird to indie pretentiousness with all the grinning fervor of any happening that’s ever been hip to the beat. Try to stop smiling when you listen — we dare you.
Bryan Reed

Giant: Music for music's sake

By Bryan Reed, Diversions Editor

There's a sense of epic urgency that spills from Giant's music.
Guitars clash, surging against each other as they propel melodies to soaring heights.
Powerful drum hits fill the space, nailing shut the lid as Isaac Jones' gruff vocals battle against churning waves of sound - exasperated, desperate.
But when the fury recedes - even if only for a moment - it leaves a raw, vulnerable haze of gorgeous melody and melancholic atmosphere.
As the opening band at Cat's Cradle tonight, Giant should prove a tough act to follow.
The Greensboro-based band has been on a far-reaching tour with Between The Buried And Me, perhaps N.C.'s best known metal band, which Jones says has been "awesome," except for being unable to play dates in Canada.
But now, the band is bringing its massive music back home, in a tour that started Wednesday in Greensboro and continues with tonight's show and a set Friday in Charlotte.
Musically, Giant is a dynamic, brooding beast, but after talking to vocalist/guitarist Jones, who founded the band with his brother, Zac, it all makes sense.
"We just wanted to create music that had some weight to it," he said.
It's a dark, heavy sound indebted to the brothers' days spent listening to hardcore and metal, but equally important is the group's tenacity when it comes to composition and experimentation.
"Whatever emotions we're trying to display with the music, we want that to translate," Jones said. "That's why we've become so turned on to soundtracks, just because the more visual we can make it, the better."
Their sound's unrelenting dynamic only augments the urgency in Giant's music.
Much of the band's philosophy stems from radical politics and social discontent: the search for positive change in what can seem to be a harsh world.
"For me and my brother, when we first started Giant, a lot of that stuff was really relevant," Jones said of the band members' leftist sentiments.
"We kind of latch on to the things that are more movement-oriented," he continues. "I don't like to tell people how to live, but it's how we live ... Giant, musically, was an expression of a lot of the anger we were feeling."
But he's also quick to note that politics don't dominate Giant's songwriting.
"A lot of the lyrics do talk about that sort of thing, but a lot of them don't, you know? When you write music it's a really personal thing."
Personal enough that it plays into the band's business practices.
"We love music for the sake of music," Jones said. "I don't even know if we actually own any of our music."
He doesn't fault music being sold as a commodity; it's when it's made for the sake of being sold, rather than for the sake of expressing something important, that he sees a problem.
"Essentially, business put to music is what makes people f--k with other people's music," he said. "The motives are essential."
As the band continues its tour with BTBAM, the notions of commercial success blending with musical progression become apparent. In contrast to Giant's relatively small-scale operations, BTBAM can celebrate a huge fanbase, a big-time record deal with Victory Records and much wider renown - and the commercial success that comes with it.
But Jones sees a balance.
"It's just one of those things that Between The Buried And Me is just so talented that you had to pay attention.
"There's bands that evade that commercial ideal. You have to pay attention to it because it is what it is. We knew Between The Buried And Me would either be cult-famous, or, well, famous.
"Those dudes really know what they're doing."
The same easily can be said of Giant, who with this tour finishing up and a new recording in the works, finally might see a dawning horizon where the music the band makes is greeted with a reception as huge as its sound.
And it would make a fitting story for the band whose songs express a deep, heavy turmoil but at the same time bring a sound of hopefulness - always looking forward, always pushing on, always progressing.
Art can't exist in stasis. The band will continue to push its boundaries, constantly evolving and making music for the sake of making music.
It's a quest befitting a Giant.

The Daily Tar Heel, Diversions section, 4/10/2008

It was way more than records

By Bryan Reed

Frankly, I'm not really surprised the Schoolkids Records' Franklin Street location went out of business.
I think it sucks, but I can't say I'm shocked. Record stores are going out of business everywhere, not just in Chapel Hill.
But the sad part of Schoolkids' closing has little to do with selling CDs - which, at this point in time, isn't exactly a lucrative venture.
Amid all the hubbub about the loss of the Franklin Street staple, I've come to the conclusion that it really doesn't matter where one buys his music or on which format. If Best Buy, or Wal-Mart or iTunes has what you want at a price you're willing to pay, then great. If Schoolkids or CD Alley has what you want at a price you're willing to pay, well, then that's just great, too.
The real questions we need to be asking revolve around the notion of community.
See, I've got all these crazy ideas about the importance of regional identity and how involvement in one aspect of your local community will lead to further investment in the larger community.
For me, it's the music. All my favorite bands are from here. And because I care so much about supporting local music, I also care about things like parking availability downtown, gentrification, ABC regulations, copyright law and the RIAA's shenanigans - all topics which could fill columns of their own.
And it's because I care about local music and the state of Chapel Hill that I miss Schoolkids Records - not because they sold CDs there, but because it stood as an access point to the community I've grown to love through the course of my college career.
That's why I'm not at all surprised to see Cat's Cradle offering its stage to eight bands, who are offering their talents, all for free, just to say goodbye to a store that meant so much.
And, conveniently acting as evidence to my larger point, donations taken at the show go to support the Orange County Elementary Music Program. Witness the local music community caring about and showing support for the community as a whole.
The loss of Schoolkids on Franklin Street isn't a blight on music. People are going to keep making and listening to music until the Armageddon.
What matters is that we've lost a part of our community, and as such we've lost a part of ourselves.
Maybe the CD is gone for good. And maybe that's not a bad thing.
But losing any opportunity to foster community - whether through music or through any other common bond - is a bad thing.

The Daily Tar Heel, Diversions section, 4/3/08

Experimental act pushes buttons

Music Review
F--k Buttons
Street Horrrsing
4 stars

I find it interesting how our pop-trained ears (and brains) crave melody to such a degree that when deprived of it, listening can become a challenging, even painful endeavor.
When familiar concepts of melody are manipulated or exploited - even altogether abandoned - we consider the music to be avant-garde, inaccessible, unmusical.
But only through challenges and explorations can our ideas be solidified, and the concept of melody truly defined with any degree even approaching adequacy.
The UK noise duo of Andrew Hung and Benjamin John Power, better known as F--k Buttons, has, with its debut LP, Street Horrrsing, created a remarkably melodic effort - though it doesn't seem that way at first.
The album's opener, "Sweet Love For Planet Earth," begins with a slow crescendo of gently sprinkled keys eventually churning itself up into more voluminous, but still downtempo, waves of feedback.
But it's in the approaching and receding tones the feedback creates that melodic ideas begin to take shape.
Vocals don't enter the picture until five-and-a-half minutes in, and even then, it's a distorted wail - just another texture in the bubbling stew of sounds.
And F--k Buttons don't shy away from abrasive timbres at all.
The beauty is that they don't shy away from moments of gorgeous serenity, either, creating a sense of tension and release that keeps the listener entangled in the music, listening eagerly for the next passage of melodic comfort.
The opening seconds of the 10-minute "Okay, Let's Talk About Magic" provide a syncopated groove that becomes infectious with its repetition.
"Bright Tomorrow" (the closest to pop F--k Buttons get) drops the bottom out for an ecstatic bout of dance-pop rhythms and creeping synthesizer melody. It's a moment of respite and triumph as the listener enters the album's home stretch.
Street Horrrsing's sixth and final track, "Colours Move," lets a heavy drone climb into pounding rhythms that give way to upper-register melody (even harmony) before retreating back to the very same keyboard twinkles that opened the record.
In its completeness, the LP comes full circle, finding its way through scathing atonality and melodic comfort with equal aplomb, stringing us, the listeners, along and showing us the common ground between what we know as pop music and what we often dismiss as unmusical.
Here is an entirely musical effort. Its manipulations of melodic expectations provide challenges, but they're challenges that are ultimately satisfying when they wind up resolved.
We still crave melody, but our notions of what that concept entails have developed.
And that's the record's true reward.

Tooth: Angry in love

Tooth plays heavy metal. No bones about that.

But what does the Durham band - the combined efforts of J-Me Guptill (vocals), Rich James (guitar), Ben Wilson (guitar), Ryland Fishel (bass) and Noah Kessler (drums) - love?

Diversions Editor Bryan Reed caught up with the band, and the answer, apparently, is metal.

Dive: Metal being a niche genre, maybe it's a little ironic - maybe fitting - that you're playing the day after Valentine's Day.

Ben Wilson: It never even occurred to me. Metal has absolutely nothing to do with Valentine's Day.

Dive: Has there ever been a good metal love song?

Ben: Yeah. Didn't Winger have some shit? (laughs)

Ryland Fishel: Didn't Firehouse have that song that was like, (sings) "I finally found the love of a lifetime"?

Ben: "This Love," by Pantera.

J-Me Guptill: There you go. That is a legitimate answer. "This Love" by Pantera is a good metal song.

Ben: Shit makes me angry.

Ryland: And in love! Angry in love.

Ben: Love usually results in anger.

Dive: Well, if metal has nothing to do with Valentine's Day, what does it have something to do with?

Ryland: I think it's simply about rocking.

Dive: Is there a certain joy that comes with being told to turn it down?

Ben: Yeah, man. I had a problem in one of my last bands, I was always being told to turn down - and I enjoyed that shit.

Rich James: It's kinda hard to reconcile good sound with power. We want to be really, really loud, but it's hard when you're so loud you can't hear the drums.

It's all about, "Exactly how loud can we tweak it before nobody can hear the snare drum?"

J-Me: It helps to have really tall amps, too.

Ryland: Even if you're not the loudest band … they still get the impression that you're louder because they see those huge speakers all around.

It smells like cookies, man.

Dive: It does …

Ryland: Oh, I want some cookies.

Noah: And people say we're stoner-metal.

Ben: I don't think so.

Dive: Well that's like, with all the subgenres, what does it even mean, you know?

Noah: Slow and heavy.

Ben: But Skeletonwitch said, "We're mid-paced" (laughs).

Rich: We've been called spastic because our songs kind of skip around a lot.

Ben: It's just one of many influences. Metal has all kinds of subgenres, and we pull from it all.

Rich: It's a hodge-podge, but it's a lot more fun to play that way.

Ryland: There's stoner-rock riffage, just getting a good, heavy riff and just going with it.

I hate bands that have that one awesome part, and it's just gone. It's like, "Man, I wish that part would come back."

Rich: A lot of stoner-metal, on the other hand, overdoes that.

It's just kind of a drone after a while, and I mean, I love it. I love it when I'm driving or just, like, laying around staring at the ceiling.

Dive: I guess that explains it right there.


The Daily Tar Heel, Diversions section 2/14/08

Taste: Why can't everybody just get along?

We came late to the party. What can I say?
It's almost halfway through January, and we're just now getting around to printing our Top 10s.
You're probably asking yourself, "What gives, Dive?" Maybe you're even asking, "Why bother?"
Well, for critics, the year-end list, as arbitrary and divisive as it inevitably turns out to be, is an important ritual. It's a chance to show some real enthusiasm for the art forms we spend our lives trying to know intimately.
But - most importantly, for the sake of this column - it's also a measuring stick for our readers.
Even if only indirectly, we critics make having good taste into a job. And our readers are right to judge us on our taste.
But there's a crucial question in that idea: What exactly is good taste?
And that, friends, is a dangerous question.
As a critic, my taste is a function of my knowledge. The more I know, the broader my tastes become. The broader my base of knowledge and appreciation, the more diverse my taste can be. And since one can't really claim to have good taste in something (popular music in my case) as a whole without at least a modicum of understanding about the whole of something, diversity equates to taste, right?
Well, almost.
On top of the burden of knowledge comes the burden of argument.
Because the things we like are so subjective and personal, we must be able to defend, or at least explain, our choices.
But as with anything else in this world, as much as you defend your position, someone is always going to disagree. Whether you're going with "I like what I like because I like it," (a perfectly valid argument, though I'm reluctant to admit it) or a rambling thesis on the ability of Wolves In The Throne Room's recent album, Two Hunters, to evoke not only an emotional sense of lonesome desolation, but also to create a dark, cold sense of specific place and time that manifests itself both physically and metaphorically in the context of the record, making it an easy choice for year's best, you're not wrong.
But you're not entirely right, either.
At the end of the day, we like what we like because we like it, and sometimes something special will come along we get so excited about that it leads to rambling, abstract theses that try so hard to pin down exactly what about it is so great but often end up just expressing an all-out enthusiasm that should be argument enough.
So what, then, is the job of a critic?
All year long the critic tries to keep an open mind to all styles, to review in context to the cultural whole and to disregard taste as much as possible.
But it's impossible to do that.
So, once a year we get the opportunity to let our tastes run rampant, ranking the items we feel were the best, for reasons ranging from a perceived cultural importance to the mere fact that we liked something a whole heck of a lot.
As you peruse our Top-10 lists, judging Diversions on its collective taste, I'd like to think there will be something that might strike your fancy.
But maybe there won't be. Then what?
You could write in to tell us how wrong we were for overlooking your favorite movie of the year or how overrated you think our favorite record is. And I'll read that letter, and I'll probably disagree with it.
And sooner or later we'll both come to the conclusion that we like what we like because we like it. And you don't have to agree with somebody's taste to respect it.

The Daily Tar Heel, Diversions section, 1/10/08

Gerrard reopens to stellar show: Artists push folk music boundaries

Concert review
Old Noise, New Blues
Gerrard Hall
Saturday
4.5 stars out of 5

Saturday night, the newly reopened Gerrard Hall sheltered what might well have been the most ambitious and well-executed on-campus concert in recent memory.
The concert, organized by Carolina Union Activities Board, WXYC and UNC's Curriculum in Folklore, was organized to showcase artists whose music pushes - and often breaks - the boundaries of Southern folk music traditions.
But the venue was as important to the event's success as the musicians' performances.
Gerrard offers rich acoustics with a reverb that augments instead of distorts the sounds coming from stacks of speakers and microphones. Its balcony provides a bird's-eye view of the concert, while the stageless main room provides the audience with an intimacy that makes the performances more affecting.
The show's four acts all lean toward the avant-garde, but Gerrard made the music approachable.
Though the venue was never filled to its more than 400-seat capacity, it felt full, as listeners enjoyed the experience of hearing adventurous music in a comfortable setting.
The opening band, Horse Operas, used amplified acoustic guitars and blues progressions to create a rock sound rooted in back-porch folk.
But as soon as the band finished, the music took a decidedly more experimental path.
Pennsylvania's Mike Tamburo performed a strikingly beautiful solo set using only a hammer dulcimer, a traditional Appalachian instrument. He performed wordlessly while creating the necessary feelings of tension and release to keep the music engaging.
Following an intermission, R. Keenan Lawler took to the now-darkened room. Using a 1930s resonator guitar, he evoked images of a conflicted Southern history by finding the dissonances in traditional blues forms and exploiting them until they became harsh, moaning drones. Despite a need for self-editing evidenced by extraneous concluding passages, Lawler coaxed ghosts of the past out through this music, which became a sort of seance for the blues.
But the highlight was Chapel Hill's drone collective, The Hem of His Garment, which performed with 16 members Saturday.
The piling layers of tone the group laid upon the audience became thick and heavy enough that they became a physical entity.
Having arranged themselves in a horseshoe shape, the musicians created a disorienting sense of space and time as their hour-long song took flight.
The concert proved to be academic enough to suit its college setting, but intangibly powerful enough to fit perfectly the former chapel that housed it.

The Daily Tar Heel, page 3, 11/19/07

Lifeless '30 Days' bleeds concept dry

"30 Days of Night" bites.
It's so bad that it actually justifies horrible movie-critic puns.
Sure, the premise of the movie - vampires stalking a northern Alaska town in the dead of winter, when the sun won't rise for 30 days - is a great one.
The idea might even be one of the freshest, most exciting developments in the vampire genre since Dracula himself.
And yes, the sight of hideous, beastly vampires of the evil-incarnate "Nosferatu" variety is a whole lot better than some halfwit take on the vampire-as-sex-symbol cliché.
I mean, we've already seen rock star vampires, aristocratic gentleman vampires and other insert-high-status-profession-here vampires. Isn't it about time for some blood-sucking demons?
But that's all "30 Days" has going for it.
Everything else is a formulaic, boring splatterfest complete with exploding heads, missing limbs, decapitations and pools of blood looking less badass than intended on the vast plains of snow.
The movie, based on a graphic novel, fails to deliver any of the visual flair that has made the comic book-movie genre so successful post "Sin City." And without the stunning visuals, all that's left is a bottom-shelf vampire flick.
The plot (predictably) follows a group of survivors who must (predictably) battle the vampires before they are (predictably) eaten one by one. As the town dies, their numbers (predictably) wane, until the final (predictably) heroic showdown.
Add a moral about love and self-sacrifice, so on and so forth.
Then the sun comes up, the lights in the theater come back on and the audience leaves utterly unaffected.
The movie is not scary, and it's not adventurous, but boy, is it unnecessary.
The film's stock characters do their job of dying with gusto.
But the by-the-book approach to horror filmmaking is nothing short of yawn-inducing. And the special effects are nothing special.
The film totally ruins a good premise for the rest of us.
It's a waste, really. Vampires in an arctic settlement, free from the restrictions of the sun. It could have - and should have - been great.
But instead "30 Days" earns nothing more than half-assed puns and vindictive rants all summed up with some smart-alecky line like, "The movie, like its vampires, is soulless. (Get it?) It sucks. (Get it?)"


The Daily Tar Heel, Diversions section, 10/25/07