Thursday, 5/15/08: Industry Night at Reggie's

This entry needs to start out with an apology. I'm just now catching up on entries that should have been written many weeks ago. This one right here... this one's a bit dodgy, folks.

This show happened a while ago – too long ago for me to remember all the details. All I have are my notes. I don't want to fluff out my entry and spruce up my prose with bullshit of any sort, so I'm just going to stick to the notes. This is all very unprofessional, I know, but then, I'm not a professional. Such are the luxuries that this status affords me. The date: May 15^th, 2008. The occasion: Columbia College's music management grad program industry night/gala. The venue: Reggie's Rock Club.

Flowers for Dorian, the first band of the night, reminded me of Second Stage Turbine Blade-era Coheed and Cambria. Not particularly fresh, but they played the kind of emo that I wish emo bands still played. Their performance was sharp. They sort of looked like idiots onstage, but were obviously having loads of fun. The only one who never looked like an idiot – who just looked like he was having the time of his life – was their drummer. I want to steal their drummer.

The second band to play, Needers and Givers, have a healthy dose of BJM in them, with a little bit of Decemberists too. They're so hipster that when you cut them, they probably bleed dingy brown plaid instead of red.

Brice Woodall and the Positrons, the band we had come to see, the band our friend Andrew manages, were third in the lineup. Andrew and I ended up chatting with a guy named Bob after the show, and according to Bob, Brice had the best stage presence of anyone who performed that night. At the time, I thought he was just being complimentary, but he was kind of right. Brice knew what he was doing.

When Andrew said that the first band they brought to his mind was U2, and Bob said that he was reminded of Radiohead, and I said that I first thought of Remy Zero, we realized that those three bands provided a pretty good reference for Brice's sound. A number of songs from Brice's “Feathery Trigger” album have made it onto various iTunes playlists and mix CDs of mine. Check out “Redwoods,” “Short List,” and “Hollow.”

The first thing I noticed about J. Roddy and the Business was that their bassist looked just like Murderface. A skinny Murderface, granted, and with longer, slightly less poofy hair, but otherwise just like William Murderface.

As far as their sound was concerned, I'd describe it as early 60's blues-rock with Jimmy Page on lead guitar. They had the same aptitude for early rock 'n' roll cliches as Jet, with a bit of a Raconteurs edge to them. (Actually, I probably could have summed that up by saying “They sounded kind of like the Black Crowes,” couldn't I?) They sounded kind of like the Black Crowes.

So that's it for Industry Night. I also went to see Thrice at the Metro on May 16^th, and, much to my disappointment, I have no notes from that evening. I can tell you, however, that their lighting was much more elaborate than it has been previous times that I've seen them, that their performance was solid, as always, and that “Digital Sea” was the highlight of their set, largely due to the addition of a gorgeous acoustic drum line to the chorus.

Next up is the Lollapalooza entry, which is going to be huge. And by huge, I mean very big.

Tuesday, 5/13/08: Mt. St. Helens with Interiors and Nouns at the Empty Bottle

I realized at some point on Tuesday that I was looking forward to dinner at the Bite Cafe almost as much as I was looking forward to the show. If it's not too late, a show at the Empty Bottle should always be preceded by dinner at the Bite. The place is small and looks pretty exactly like the inside of the venue next door, except with tables, and the menu is very vegetarian-friendly (yippee!) and pretty delicious. I had a bowl of wonderfully savory tomato-garlic soup, peppery and with coarsely-chopped veggies that gave it almost the consistency of gazpacho, followed by a jerk seitan sandwich that was vinegary enough to give it a tang but not enough to give me all kinds of acid reflux. I never know how to pronounce "seitan."

I had called ahead to find out the night's schedule, and was told that the first band went on at 8:30. I finished my dinner and hurried next door at 8:40, all worried that I was late. I found myself in an empty house. When I expressed my surprise to the doorman, he told me that the first band didn't go on until 9:45. Luckily, I had a book in my bag, so I sat down on the couch in the Empty Bottle's entranceway, pulled up my hood, and started to read.

Before long, I had company. A sleek black cat prowled up to the base of the couch, paused, and then hopped up to join me. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped carefully onto my lap, eased himself down to prone, and curled up. His name was Radley, I learned, and he's been a part of the Empty Bottle for almost as long as there's been an Empty Bottle. More than once, I had people walk up to me and say, “Oh my God, he's so cute! Can I pet your cat?”

"He's not mine,” I would reply. “So, yeah, I guess.”

He took well to human attention, which I suppose a bar cat must.

Rather promptly at 9:45, Nouns quietly took the stage and the self-described dream-pop duo of Chase Johnson and Anthony Iamurri plugged in and tuned up.

The pair has some very real skills. They both play like they've had jazz training at some point in the past, but they bring that skill set to bear to create a decidedly unique final product: delicate keyboard loops that ebb and flow behind soft vocal harmonies, and drums that exploit a pretty wide dynamic range, alternately rolling gently and sinking into thick grooves. Chase's pleasingly jangly guitar chords, strummed on a black Rickenbacker just like Johnny Marr's, have the biggest part in lending the music its distinctive texture. “Imaginary Economics," in my opinion the highlight of their set, was full of beautiful atmospherics grounded by a drum line that was practically all fills.

The Interiors, next in the night's lineup, was the kind of straight-ahead rock band I would expect to have come up in the early part of the decade. They played songs with a bit of post-punk and a dash of blues, but mostly just rock; the vocals sounded like Julian Casablancas with more of a rock-star wail. "Shooting Off," made out of fast, urgent 2/4 and rhythm guitar strummed on the up beat, was the last (and best) song in their set.

Mt. St. Helens was the evening's headliner, and their playing showed the most experience-polished performance acumen. Their sound wasn't anything new or revolutionary, but it defied pigeonholing just the same. Their songs were dancey, but not dancey enough to be called post-New-Wave; jerky, but not jerky enough to be punk; and poppy, but too gritty to be pop. Yet, somehow, they escaped sounding generic the way Interiors occasionally sounded (dare I say?) generic. Um, go listen to them.

Above all, from a music nerd's perspective, they were a testament to the textures that can be created with two SG's and a 335 over a J-bass. They were a tremendously fun act to attend; I'd definitely see them again given the chance.