Against Me! gets bigger and better

Riding a New Wave

by Bryan Reed

Ryan Russell
Florida's Against Me! garnered enough cred for that extra exclamation mark

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

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

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

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

8 Days A Week

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

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

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

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

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

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