Noise

Listen: New M. Lockwood Porter single “Chris Bell” pays tribute to the less-celebrated heart of Big Star

Steven T. Jones
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Listen: New M. Lockwood Porter single “Chris Bell” pays tribute to the less-celebrated heart of Big Star

This happens very rarely, but every now and then, I’m actually in step with some kind of larger musical zeitgeist. My lifelong affection for Big Star — thanks, Dad — only grew deeper with last year’s documentary Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me, which told the tale of a band that, more or less, struggled for its entire existence to be heard, only to achieve what could be considered widespread popularity roughly two decades after they stopped making music.

One story that film also teased out was the tragic narrative of Chris Bell, who maybe wasn’t as charismatic as his co-frontman Alex Chilton, but boy, could he write a song, and boy, did he have some demons. Bell died, like so many of the greats, at the age of 27.

So I was excited, needless to say, when Berkeley’s M. Lockwood Porter released his new single, “Chris Bell,” a tribute to the late songwriter in which Porter’s earnest ’70s power-pop influences are made very clear. Porter’s debut LP Judah’s Gone garnered some critical praise last summer, but we haven’t heard much from him since; now, he’ll be doing a mini-tour of sorts to support the release, starting with an opening spot on Mirah-headlined bill tomorrow night [Thu/6] at Brick and Mortar. Give the track a listen, and below, read some of what Porter wrote me when I asked about his inspirations for the song.

I’ve claimed Big Star as one of my favorite bands for almost 10 years. I got into them around the time that I was about to go to college. I was in this phase where, artistically, I believed that you had to totally reinvent or revolutionize the musical language in order to make valid art (I was 16, okay?). When I discovered Big Star, along with a few other bands, I realized that pop/rock based music could sound fresh without adding too many bells and whistles as long as there was honesty and a unique point of view behind it.

[After watching Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me], I learned that he was as important, or even more important, to the creation of #1 Record than Alex Chilton was. Second of all, Big Star’s lack of commercial recognition, along with the fact that critics seemed to focus on Alex Chilton as the genius behind the band, were among his reasons for leaving the band. Third, after he left the band, he went into a depression that he never fully escaped. He got into painkillers, heroin, and some of the interview subjects in the film suggest that the car accident that killed Chris Bell might have been a suicide. I’ve also since read rumors that Chris Bell was a closeted homosexual, and that his shame might have been an additional reason for his depression. I don’t know whether that last part is true or not, but all of these facts together gave me a huge amount of sympathy for him.

It made me very upset that even I — someone who considers #1 Record to be a desert island album — had given Alex Chilton most of the credit for Big Star’s effect on my life (not that he wasn’t important, as well). I started thinking about how much “Alex Chilton” by The Replacements (whom I love) had played into the mythos of the band, and that’s where the first line of the song came from.

In the film, someone points out that Chris Bell is a member of the 27 Club. That got me thinking about this whole romance and mythology that exists around people like Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, etc. — rock stars who died young. I did not want to write a song that attempted to create a similar kind of mythology around Chris Bell. I felt like it would have been tacky and disrespectful to do so. In the documentary, Chris Bell’s brother and sister are interviewed. Their pain over Chris’s death still seems very raw. He died nearly 40 years ago, and they still miss him deeply. I wanted to try to write about Chris Bell with that perspective in mind, rather than writing something that could have come from some lazy rock journalist.

Also, I love Neil Young, and there’s that infamous line in “Hey Hey My My” (“Rock and roll is here to stay / It’s better to burn out than to fade away”) that ties into the whole tortured rock star mythology because of the Kurt Cobain connection. It’s also just a happy accident that the line “Rock and roll is here to stay” is also in Big Star’s “Thirteen.” When I realized that coincidence, I knew I had to put that into the song.

And now, because he makes me feel feelings, let’s listen to some Chris Bell, shall we?

M. Lockwood Porter (w/ Mirah, Ages and Ages)
3/6, 9pm, $12
Brick & Mortar Music Hall
1710 Mission, SF
www.brickandmortarmusic.com

Bleached brings the sunshine at the Rickshaw Stop

Steven T. Jones
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It’s no question that Bleached has come into success within the past year with the release of its debut album, Ride Your Heart, on record label Dead Oceans. But how does the band gauge its success? By a younger man sneaking into their green room, which apparently didn’t happen the last time Bleached played San Francisco.

This time Bleached brought along power-punks Terry Malts, psych rockers Mystic Braves and dark psych band Tropical Popsicle for a packed Noise Pop show at the Rickshaw Stop.

Initially seeing the name “Tropical Popsicle” on the bill, I tossed the band off as another kitschy garage-rock creation. But I was wrong. Despite it’s name that evokes visions of summer and dessert, Tropical Popsicle veers to the darker side of things.

As the band started its set on a dimly lit stage, a post-punk synth tune reminiscent of New Order played. As the set wore on, Tropical Popsicle picked up the pace slightly with spooky and moody psych tunes.

tropical popsicle
Tropical Popsicle

Then Mystic Braves walked on the stage, some members clad in floppy sun hats that could have graced the heads of many grandmothers in the ‘70s. Going for a contemporary psych-rock vibe, the band is in the same vein as Allah-Las and Froth. Mystic Braves showed great musical prowess, playing intricate and fuzzed-out riffs amongst shallow, subdued vocals.

Next up was Terry Malts, the only band boasting Bay Area “citizenship” on the bill. Playing what they call “chainsaw pop,” the Berkeley based band plays distorted, up-tempo power-punk with deadpan vocals.

Just like the speed of its music, Terry Malts barreled through its set. Vocalist and bassist Phil Benson was reluctant to play “I Do,” off the band’s 2012 effort, Killing Time. He was caught saying, “Well, I guess we’re playing this song” in an exasperated and apathetic-sounding voice. But that could very well be Benson’s normal voice.

terry malts
Terry Malts

As Bleached finally went on stage, the front of the room was packed, leaving very little space for breathing.

Before I delve into the exacts of the show, here’s a little background information on Bleached. The band is well known for having sisters Jennifer and Jessica Clavin in the mix. But before Bleached was even a glint in Clavin sisters eye(s), they were in a Los Angeles post-punk band, Mika Miko. Though Mika Miko may be gone and a thing of the past, the sisters Clavin have regrouped to form Bleached — a band decidedly more wholesome, hook-filled and poppy than its predecessor.

Playing a slew of songs that share common themes of having fun, boys, and causing a ruckus, Bleached whipped the audience into a frenzy in record time. It was only a few songs into the set before people started in with stage dives.

bleached
Bleached, from above

Clear-cut crowd favorites, such as “No Friend of Mine” and “Think of You”, were played. The band also lended it’s way in performing a few sonic treats, such as a cover of the Misfits’ “Hybrid Moments” and previously unreleased song “For the Feel.”

With three-quarters of the bands on the bill based in Los Angeles, sunny Southern California was brought to a dreary and rainy San Francisco, if only for a night. And boy, was it good.

— @erindage

Real Estate indulges the fans — in a good way — at the Independent

Steven T. Jones
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So this New Jersey-based band called Real Estate came to San Francisco this weekend to play two sold-out shows for Noise Pop at the Independent. The lighting and stage design was spectacular. The opening bands were superb. The venue was excellent.

Though all of these factors came together for a great experience, the one thing I will take away is that one drunk girl who screamed at Real Estate to play it’s song “All The Same” for the entirety of its set, and how she unintentionally fostered a sense of community.

But that will all be explained later.

Opening was Dominant Legs, a trio  out of San Francisco. The band had three easily defined traits: strong, jazz-like basslines, a pre-recorded, kicky synth beat and a vocalist who sounded strikingly like Andy Bell (of Erasure fame) to match. At times, the drum machine on the recording synced up with the actual drummer’s beat, making for a full sound that bands such as the Melvins and the Feelies (for a spell) have achieved with two drummers.

dominant legs
Dominant Legs

Next were The Shilohs, a Vancouver-based band that draws from influences such as Big Star and Neil Young, maintaining a ‘60s rock spin. Off of New Images, a record label run by Matt Mondanile of Real Estate and Ducktails, the band released its full-length, So Wild, last year.

Though The Shilohs try to maintain an allegiance to the ‘60s, there’s no question that both the band and Real Estate sound incredibly similar. This was probably why the band was booked for the show, and how they landed on Mondanile’s label. And the audience ate it up, as many more people gathered close to the stage to watch the band play.

shilohs
The Shilohs

After The Shilohs finished up, Real Estate appeared on stage in due time. In the interest of promoting new material, the band opened up with “Had to Hear” off of its latest album, Atlas.

Then it started soon after that song. Off in the distance I heard someone yell “PLAY ‘ALL THE SAME!’”

Initially I thought nothing of it — I mean, it’s a good song. It’s the perfect, psych-rock infused closer to the Real Estate’s well-recieved 2011 album, Days. Skip 15 minutes or so ahead to the third song of the set: three others have joined the plight for Real Estate to play “All The Same.” Song after song, (that wasn’t ‘All the Same’) more and more joined in the chorus for that damn song to play.

And you know what? Eventually Real Estate did play “All the Same” during its encore, along with “It’s Real.”

real estate
Real Estate obliges.

But instances such as this, when the demand of one inebriated audience member becomes the demand of many, remind me of how much I enjoy attending shows. Seldom do you enter a room to find that (nearly) each and every person in it all enjoy the same thing. And this was the case for the Real Estate show at the Independent.

And there’s definitely something to say about that.

Mikal Cronin takes the spotlight, has excellent hair at The Chapel

Steven T. Jones
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Mikal Cronin walks onto the stage this past Saturday night [March 1] for the third time this week, settling into the right corner; a spot he’s apparently comfortable in, given that it’s his usual post when playing in (fellow Laguna Beach native) Ty Segall’s band. Tonight was Cronin’s night, however, and his first Noise Pop appearance this year as Segall was suspiciously absent from the roster — perhaps a result of his recent deflection from San Francisco to LA? Regardless, Cronin was joined by his eponymous band at The Chapel, who wasted no time on introductions as they broke into one of their signature clamorous surf-rock jams.

The crowd eagerly soaked in the band’s offerings throughout the course of the evening, thrashing along to the jangly guitars and getting down with the miry basslines for the nearly hour-long set. Even on songs whose refrains seemed rather redundant (like the underwhelming second of the evening “Situation”) there was no shortage of hair flying, both on and off the stage.  Speaking of hair, though — the band has the game locked. The headbanging displayed by Chad Ubovich, Mike Anderson, and Cronin is the kind of stuff that would make even the most famously coiffed girl bands (ahem, HAIM) jealous, as they did it with such great fervor, intermittently draping their mics with long, stringy manes.  

mikal

College-rock favorite “See It My Way” was the first song officially announced, though if the amount of people singing along was any indication, it was probably the one that least needed an introduction. The room was silent as the tempo slowed down before Cronin concluded, “No I’m alright/I’m coming home/and I will find a way,” before launching into the chorus that sent the crowd into a bouncing frenzy. Feeling the love coming off the last song, Cronin thanked the audience as the band began to play the opening chords of another hair-band anthem, “Back in Black” — thoughis was only a tease, to the dismay of fans who let out a resounding sigh as the band transitioned into one of their own songs.

mikal

The garagey-beach guitar was omnipresent and at times came across as formulaic, which is interesting, because it’s that very quality that takes attention away from the somber lyrics which are noticeably in discord with the upbeat melodies. In a way, the repetitive sound of the music almost acts like a cloaking device, masking the feelings of desolation in certain songs — like “Change,” for example, which goes, “I can’t climb the mountain all alone/I’ve been at the bottom for a long time/I’ve been waiting for the sun to set, the moon to shine/The day to change to night so I can fall.”

mikal

Cronin reappeared on the stage solo for the encore, playing “Don’t Let Me Go,” in one of the more emotionally exposed moments of the evening — even the lights made his sweaty face look like he had been crying — but it was an ephemeral moment, as the rest of the band took up their instruments and played a droney, spiraling, psych-riff laden version of Wreckless Eric’s “(I’d Go The) Whole Wide World” to close out their set. If nothing else, it was a finale that proved that, even though Cronin takes place at the side of the stage, he is indeed a front man.

Live Shots: The Limousines lead a nonstop dance party at DNA Lounge

Steven T. Jones
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Live Shots: The Limousines lead a nonstop dance party at DNA Lounge

By Jonathan Roisman

It was more than three years ago when I first saw the Limousines on stage. I hadn’t heard a song of theirs and the half-filled Nob Hill Masonic Center was waiting for Weezer to step on stage and take them back in time on their “Memories” tour time machine. In the meantime, we were stuck in the present, listening to an unknown indie electronic duo that danced their asses off as they performed. As lead singer Eric Victorino sang about crusty socks and stacks of pizza boxes, I realized the Limousines had a knack for entertaining a crowd.

Flash forward to Thursday night [Feb. 27] at the DNA Lounge at this year’s Noise Pop festival. Two full-length albums later, including last year’s Hush, and the Limousines’ talent for energizing an audience had only gotten better. 

limousines

Fronted by the aforementioned singer-songwriter Victorino and jack-of-all-trades instrumentalist and producer Giovanni Giusti, the band successfully weaved together a setlist featuring songs from their entire catalog, including their 2009 EP, Scrapbook.

The band kicked off the show with their 2010 viral hit “Internet Killed the Video Star,” as Victorino tossed a red beach ball into the crowd to keep everyone’s hands in the air. As the song ended and the ball made its way back to the stage, Victorino popped it with childlike amusement before rolling through more songs from their debut album, Get Sharp.

The Bay Area-based pair didn’t take much time to talk to the crowd, but the nearly nonstop-dancing audience didn’t seem to mind a bit. They just wanted more music. The Limousines delivered with the energetic Hush opening track “Love is A Dog From Hell.”

limousines

When Victorino did decide to banter with the crowd, he was humble, if not particularly articulate. “This band means an awful fucking lot to us,” he said. And it showed. The Limousines played their smooth blend of electro-pop and synth-rock for nearly 80 minutes, giving the crowd their money’s worth.  The mostly twenty-somethings on the ground floor danced and clapped and made out with one another for nearly as long. The balcony was filled with a slightly older and less energetic crowd, but they looked like they were enjoying themselves as well.

As the show went on I realized something:  the Limousines are far from unique musicians. Their lyrics pine over heartbreak and wild nights. But it they set themselves apart from other performers with their attitude. Victorino and Giusti (and a third touring member from Texas) clearly wanted to be there. Their energy didn’t let up as they neared the end of their set with a number of tracks from Hush, including “The Last Dance,” and “Bedbugs,” the latter of which dealt with the fallout of sleeping with a friend. “I could lie and tell you we could still be friends,” Victorino shouted, “but you know it ain’t true.”

limousines

Before finishing the evening off with “Very Busy People,” an anthem to masturbation and Donnie Darko, Victorino took a moment to look at the crowd and thank them for coming out on a Thursday night. “I’m too told for this shit,” he said. But that was a lie. He was still young enough to care and put forth an effort to entertain a paying audience. The Limousines may not be the next smash-hit electronic band, but they know how to liven up a room — and that still counts for a hell of a lot.

— @JonRoisman

Lord Huron bring their complex mythology to The Fillmore

Steven T. Jones
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By Stephen Sparks

In a recent profile in the New York Times, Ben Schneider, who was Lord Huron until he gathered childhood friends to form a quintet, revealed that the inspiration for the band’s track listing — and really their existence — is the western novelist George Ranger Johnson. Johnson is the author of ten novels, including Ghost on the Shore, Time to Run, and an unfinished eleventh, Setting Sun.

The only catch is that, well, Johnson doesn’t exist. His books, though convincingly documented online, were never written.

LH

Schneider admits to dreaming up the novelist as a way of establishing a mythology for his musical project. It’s a clever move, harkening back to the days when record companies would spring for elaborate record sleeves or CD inserts. It also brings to mind more conceptually minded bands like Pink Floyd — though the comparison between the two ends there.

While this cleverness is admirable and makes for a good story, it becomes meaningless if you put a bunch of people in a room to listen to a band that fails to live up to its premise. Image is important, but sound trumps all. Lord Huron is a solid combination of being both interesting and compelling musically.

LH

With their jangly guitars and locomotive rhythm — their Noise Pop kick-off show [Wed/26] started off with the chugga-chugga of a train, before the band launched into “Ends of the Earth” — Lord Huron give the impression, despite their output being limited to just a couple of EPs and one full-length album, of having been around for ages. Maybe it’s the evocative romanticism of the lyrics: Schneider sings of wandering through lonely, remote places as if such hadn’t vanished decades ago; of disappearing women and melancholy vistas capable of inspiring poets. Or it could be the congruence between the band’s dusty, old West vibe and their timeless blazers. They seem like they’d be as at home in a saloon as they were at The Fillmore.

Yet no matter how they mythologize themselves, they’re not a country and western band. Lord Huron exists in a comfortable place somewhere between Johnny Cash and My Morning Jacket. They sound familiar, friendly. Maybe this accounts for the diversity of concertgoers and helps explains why everyone, young and old, crooned along with Schneider as he opened the show with his crooning “Oooh-oh-oh-oooh” from the “Ends of the Earth.”

LH

And while the band really hit their stride four songs in,  and from then on played with chemistry and restrained enthusiasm, there was nevertheless a lack of something — carelessness? — that kept the show from being remarkable. Whether it’s shyness or professionalism, there was some distance between the band and the audience. It never felt like either side entirely engaged. This isn’t to say the show wasn’t solid, only that it was subdued.

But then, with so much distance in their songs — all those wide open, endless desert tracks and remote islands — perhaps this distance is built into the mythology.

Matthew Dear presents Audion, in a shipping container of LED triangles

Steven T. Jones
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Matthew Dear presents Audion, in a shipping container of LED triangles

At this point I have no idea when this show is going to start, but it’s 9:22 and there’s another loner type rubbing the wood grain pillar in the middle of Mighty. He’s got his hood up as if keeping a low-profile, but
blowing it otherwise. It looks like he took the wrong drugs, slowing down when he might want to speed up. Because at this point in the evening, with some crew members apparently still wiring up the massive amount of lights on stage, he might be in for a wait.

Matthew Dear, the headliner for the night under his Audion moniker, is wandering around the club. Seems typically calm and collected, but I wonder if there’s panic behind the scenes. The show — complete with a custom visual installation — was originally scheduled to be at the Regency Ballroom but was moved to this much smaller venue due to poor ticket sales. (You could see the marketing urgency increasing with each email, first listing the show discreetly as “Audion,” and then “Audion Live: Subvertical,” before finally throwing all the names out in a final push with “Matthew Dear Presents Audion Live: Subvertical.”) After changing venues and dropping the ticket price, Noise Pop also announced all previously issued tickets would now come with a +1. Maybe it’s the rainy weather, but there’s hardly anyone on the dancefloor yet.

audion

Except for squeaky-shoes, which is a good sign. A ubiquitous figure around SF clubs, in my experience if squeaky-shoes is at a show, you’ve made a good decision about your evening entertainment. (We call him squeaky-shoes because his shoes are really squeaky, especially when he’s dancing, in an individual style that involves leaping sideways/backwards a solid five feet at a time, pausing just before colliding with someone, and then walking away as if nothing happened.) He also always wears a comparatively silent ballcap. Look for him. He may be your spirit guide.

As far as I’m concerned, Matrixxman can not go on soon enough, as the same track has been playing over the P.A. for nearly 45 minutes. Aside from the dull bass, the music is drowned out, as if coming from the Chinese restaurant next door. Enduring this together, the woman besides me strikes up a conversation. She doesn’t know Matrixxman, Audion, or even Matthew Dear: she’s here for the lights, knowing that the visual setup was designed by the same team who did the mind-bending work on Amon Tobin’s ISAM.

audion

WhenI last saw Matrixxman, it was at the same venue, and he was doing a closing set for Le1f. One track he played — “C.U.N.T.” by Tronco Traxx — is permanently lodged in my brain. Google it. Your expectations will be met. Tonight he’s keeping things a bit more in pocket, setting up the headliner with a less potentially alienating mix dominated by jacked up house, chopped diva vocals, and something that sounded like Prince (and may well have been Prince).

When the main event starts, all I can think of is packaging. Maybe it’s the corrugated plastic material that Matthew Dear is encased in, a neat sphere made up of interlocking LED-lit triangles; if Amon Tobin had a spaceship, Dear has a shipping container. It’s even branded in a way: the press release pointed out the resemblance between the triangles and the A in Audion. To me they look like a swirl of tracking buttons, with larger “reverse” and “play” arrows on each side of the stage. Like the comprehensive 10-year-spanning collection Audion X, this production seems designed to deliver Dear/Audion in an iconic form.

Tobin once impressed on me that not all electronic music is meant for dancing, so having a visual production like ISAM made sense. But while Tobin via ISAM warped around to places feet can’t easily follow, this isn’t really the case with Audion. Dear, particularly in this format, is clearly making dance music, heavily indebted to Detroit. (Not just the techno, but the car industry: his set drives along with little pause, frequently punctuated by a slow pulsing swell, revving and switching gears. See: “Mouth to Mouth” or “Motormouth.”)

A lot of the crowd dancing up front seems capable of following along unfazed, as if it’s just another night at Mighty. I’m more conflicted and end up with the ones in the back, stunned in place, not sure which
way to go. From back there, it could be a jaded rock show.

I look for the support beam molester from earlier, but don’t see him at all under the lights.

He’s probably fine.

audion

RIP Josh Ezelle, SF house pioneer

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RIP Josh Ezelle, SF house pioneer

Horrible news this morning — pioneering house DJ Josh Ezelle died last night in a motorcycle crash in Thailand. He was 42.

Ezelle, aka DJ Josh, was the first DJ many young clubbers heard in the late ’80s, and the list of venues and crews he supported or helped launch is a veritable what’s what of the SF scene, right up to the present. Wicked, the Gathering, Funky Techno Tribe, Sunset …

Ever-roving, he organized the groundbreaking 2000 ACA World Sound Festival in Acapulco. He moved to Thailand in 2001, and had recently located to Phuket, becoming a popular resort DJ there and witnessing the birth of his son.

A true example of bringing the underground SF spirit to the world, he’ll be mightily missed.

I watched Rebelution next to Dusty Baker

Steven T. Jones
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I watched Rebelution next to Dusty Baker

“Put in this story that you watched Rebelution next to Dusty Baker,” said Dusty Baker. As I stood against the railing on the upper level of the Independent Tuesday night, I was unknowingly chatting up the former San Francisco Giants’ manager. The baseball legend chuckled at my slight embarrassment at not recognizing him. He leaned over the railing as he talked about supporting live music and coming here with his best friend from 2nd grade. We overlooked a sold-out room, filled to the brim with an eclectic group of high school and middle-aged reggae lovers.

Rebelution opened the show with a tight guitar riff before the rest of the band jumped in with drums, bass, keyboard, and saxophone — a signature Rebelution move. No fog machine needed, dozen of joints lit up within the first minute creating a hazy shadow around the musicians. If you weren’t high before, you certainly would be through second-hand smoke alone — which got me wondering, is Dusty Baker high right now? Within the first song, my thoughts turned to nostalgia for simpler times.

reb

Disclaimer: Rebelution has been a long time favorite band of mine. I remember listening to the sweet reggae songs on road trips down the coast during high school. In college, I drove through the night to see the band play at Lollapalooza. My ringtone still to this day is the first 30 seconds of “Safe and Sound.”

The band’s front man, Eric Rachmany, started the show off with the crowd favorite “Attention Span.” Images of lazy afternoons and thoughts of making the world a better place overtook me. “It’s a pleasure to meet ya,” he sang.

It really was a pleasure for him. The SF native was genuinely pumped to be playing in his hometown. At every bridge, transition, and break between songs, Rachmany called out to the sold-out venue. “How are we doing San Francisco?” The crowd cheered back with matching enthusiasm. This mutual delight in each other’s presence is such a rare occasion in live music nowadays; Rebelution has a riveting stage presence.

reb

Beyond Rachmany, the keyboard player Rory Carey softly caressed the keyboard offering harmonious beats to Wesley Finley on the drums. Carey’s long blonde locks flowed side to side as he swayed back and forth over the keyboard. Standing well over six feet tall, the timid bassist, Marley D. William, occasionally stepped out from the shadows and commanded the stage. And the excellent touring member Khris Royal stole the show by blowing insane saxophone melodies that matched up perfectly with Rachmany’s guitar.
 
“He used to play guitar in the hallways at Drew,” said Adam Swig, a high school friend of Rachmany’s whom I met at the show. Rachmany grew up in the Sunset and went to the Drew School. “I was like ‘Man, that’s cheating. Girls are here.’” It’s no doubt that Rachmany is a babe magnet. With his soothing vocals and honest energy, the lead singer had girls in tube tops fawning over him. To be fair, dudes in backwards baseball caps, graphic T-shirts, and oversized hoodies partook in the fawning, especially during his epic guitar solos.

reb

While the vocals and instrumentals were perfectly on par, Rebelution’s performance was not only about music — it was about community. The Santa Barbara band opened for Israel Vibration at the Independent back in 2007, after independently releasing its first full-length album “Courage to Grow.” Since then, the band has played all across the California coast and around the country, selling out local venues and opening music festivals. Two years later, Rebelution founded its own record label 87 Music, named after the band members’ address while at UCSB, where they met. With three albums, an independent label and an upcoming fourth album, the reggae band found its way back to its roots at the Independent in celebration of the venue’s 10th anniversary.

With just a few simple strums of the acoustic guitar, Rachmany quieted the room for “Feelin’ Alright,” the band’s most popular single, about releasing hatred and surrendering to the music. The soft strings reverberated around the hall. To no one’s surprise, the entire crowd joined in with vocals. “I’m trying to pick up the soul’s intention to soak in music relaxation,” he sang.

reb

“They are probably the most successful ‘true’ independent touring band,” said Swig about his high school buddy’s band. Bias aside, the band’s success can be measured by the community love. As Emma wrote last week, the Independent is at the heart of the city. Much like the Divisadero venue, Rebelution relies heavily on the community, which was clearly seen at last night’s show, from Dusty Baker showing support to a surprise performance by Zion I. The show wasn’t about Rebelution; it was a celebration of live independent music. Rachmany spit a verse during Thrive’s opening set. The trumpet player of Brass Magic (first opener) played alongside sax player Royal during “Roots Reggae Music,” a new song from Rebelution’s upcoming album.

At the end of the set, Rebelution performed a wonderful two-song encore, including “Green to Black” with complementary green lights. Basking in the green-soaked room, the audience roared with excitement and the fan-made smoke machine started up again. Rarely have I seen such pure happiness and tranquility in this condensed space. It didn’t matter that the show was almost over, it happened. Waves of enlightenment overpowered Rebelution’s fans, including myself.

“We appreciate your energy,” yelled Rachmany through the thick fog. The crowd cheered back. From the light tunes of “Lazy Afternoon” to the socially conscious lyrics of “Good Vibes,” Rebelution’s intention was to bring honest joy to San Francisco, and I couldn’t get enough of the good vibes.

Courtney Barnett gets droll at the Rickshaw Stop

Steven T. Jones
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courtney
Courtney Barnett at the Rickshaw Stop Monday night.

By Sloane Martin

Standing outside the Rickshaw Stop before Courtney Barnett‘s set, I’m watching her chat with her bandmates when one of the girls working merch pops out to let Barnett know that they’ve run out of everything — shirts, albums, posters. “Oh, hang on,” Barnett cries. “I think we have a couple more t-shirts in the car!” And she’s off, grabbing the minivan keys from her drummer so she can dig out something to sell to San Francisco. Despite the shaggy hair and the tomboy-cool outfit of striped t-shirt, jeans, and Chelsea boots, she genuinely has appreciation for the fans who have come out.

That moment set the right tone for a goofy, humble, and electrically entertaining set on Monday night, one of several sold-out shows kicking off Noisepop 2014. Courtney Barnett (and the Courtney Barnetts, a rhythm section comprised of drummer Dave Mundy and bassist Andrew Loane) is a former bartender from Melbourne, Australia. Her debut album The Double EP: A Sea of Split Peas has gained considerable popularity over the past several months, fueled by a lauded performance at CMJ in October 2013. If you weren’t one of the fans lucky enough to grab a copy of the record before it sold out, you’ll have to order one from Barnett herself. The performer started her label, Milk! Records, which she described onstage as “me packing up CDs in my bedroom,” to release her own music as well as that of friends like Jen Cloher and Fraser A. Gorman. New York independent label Mom + Pop Music will release A Sea of Split Peas on CD and vinyl in the US later this year.

Wandering onstage and looking a bit bemused by the crowd’s excitement, Barnett launched into 40 minutes of tight, shredding guitar riffs and droll lyrics. Her eager, energetic drummer and bassist provided a heavy low-end that nearly drowned out some of her funnier moments. Her signature impassive delivery of the drawling line, “Just because you’re older than me / doesn’t mean you have to be so condescending,” on “Out of the Woodwork,”  and the opening of “Lance Jr.,” “I masturbated to the songs you wrote / resuscitated all my hopes,” was too enjoyable to be missed. After a slow start, Barnett and her bandmates seemed to loosen up, or maybe wake up, as they’ll finally be headed back to Australia for a much deserved rest after this final US show. All that time on the road made for a tightly rehearsed show, however, as at one point even the headbanging of each band member was perfectly in sync. Once the onstage banter started, it became clear that Barnett comes by her lyrical humor quite naturally, as she assured us that if we missed the chance to buy a t-shirt or a CD, “I’ll hug each and every one of you, and Andy will kiss you, and Dave will sign your chest.”

The crowd of hesitantly spastic dancers seemed not to know quite what to do with the deadpan vocals set against an enthusiastically kinetic rhythm section. Word to the wise: Either bob your head or bounce up and down or choose noodle arms, lest you lose your expensive beer to the floor, as the gentleman next to me did. Hopefully these fans figure out their dance strategies by the time the next record comes out, as the new song Barnett played us midway through her set was a promising sign of consistently fantastic work ahead. As the crowd sang along to “Avant Gardener,” Barnett’s sprawling narrative of an asthma attack suffered in her front garden, it was easy to sympathize with lines like, “Should have stayed in bed today / I much prefer the mundane,” but I, at least, was glad to have gotten out of bed to see her.

SF just won the Beyoncé video parody contest

Steven T. Jones
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SF just won the Beyoncé video parody contest

…with this sensuous art film about the deepest love of all, the love of donuts. “Dunkin Love,” for your viewing pleasure below, features Bay Area artists Reggie White and Adrian Anchondo, and was shot at our very own, very chilly, Ocean Beach.

The multi-faceted White, it turns out, is also one of the players in Hundred Days, the “folk-rock odyssey” of a musical theater piece that premieres this week at Z Space. All the actors are also musicians, or, you know, amazing parody music video stars — read more about it in this week’s issue.

Anchondo is a Berkeley-based actor and former bartender at Hi Tops in the Castro who will, unfortunately, be departing for his hometown of LA in the coming weeks. The two met while working on a play at the Aurora Theatre, in which Anchondo played White’s abusive boyfriend. Acknowledging that the Bay Area is, yes, damn expensive for a struggling actor, Anchondo wrote us: “The best thing about being a performer is that when you feel stuck, you can just create something on your own. I seriously had only $100 to spend and I was like ‘Do I buy this wig and dress and these donuts? Or do I pay my internet bill?’ I think I made the right decision.”

We also asked to hear where in San Francisco the performers actually do get their donut fix, since Dunkin Donuts is out of the question — at least for now — and will report back as more details come in.

BRB, just got hungry.

 

Synthesizers, saxophones, and one African grey parrot: The Other Minds music festival is a magnet for the avant-garde

Steven T. Jones
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Synthesizers, saxophones, and one African grey parrot: The Other Minds music festival is a magnet for the avant-garde

By Micah Dubreuil

When Charles Amirkhanian was 5 years old, he received a John Cage record as a gift from his father. It was a mistake — the elder Amirkhanian had taken it to be an album of traditional Armenian music, their cultural heritage. Instead, young Charles was introduced to a sound that was anything but traditional, and in that music for prepared piano, he found a life’s calling. Some 60-odd years later, the director of the Other Minds festival — the West Coast’s premiere experimental music event, now in its 19th incarnation — points to that accident as a fairly fortuitous one.

Music is everywhere. Not just in the headphones mashed in every pocket, but in the sounds and systems of the world around us, from raindrops and birdcalls to trains and electronic circuits. That might, at first, sound overly lofty — but this concept has been a driving force for, among other things, hip-hop, arguably the dominant form of popular music over the last few decades. The impulse to investigate these sounds in unconventional and inventive ways has been equally significant in what’s usually called avant-garde, experimental, or simply “new” music. Other Minds 19 will celebrate this music Feb. 28 and March 1, when the festival takes over the SFJAZZ Center for the first time. Nine composers, all with ties to Northern California, will present works that aim to explore and reveal the world of sound through a variety of mediums, including wildly futuristic synthesizers, saxophones of unusual proportion, and one African grey parrot.

Of course, as more mainstream music has evolved over the course of the past two decades, so has the meaning of “avant-garde,” says Amirkhanian; much of what was once considered radical has become ubiquitous. “Now that everybody has the ability to use GarageBand, and can take a sample of something and turn it into a hi-hat cymbal, I don’t know if [needing to introduce avant-garde] is really a problem anymore,” he says. While some pieces in the festival could be seen as quite challenging, the goal is “to surprise people pleasantly rather than violently” with what Amirkhanian calls “revealationary” as opposed than “revolutionary” new music.
 
wendy reid
Wendy Reid, with Lulu

Composer Wendy Reid, a lecturer at Mills College in Oakland, has always been fascinated by natural processes and the beauty of bird song. She takes a direct route to revealing these sounds: She writes and performs with Lulu, an African grey parrot.

“I love birds,” says Reid simply. “They’re the greatest musicians that we have.” African grey parrots, in particular, are considered by many to be the most intelligent birds in the world. They can live more than 50 years, and have been known to carry out conversations with humans (not in the wild, presumably). Reid has always had birds as pets, or “family members,” as she likes to think of them. She records the birds’ songs, improvises along to the recordings, and composes bird-like sounds in order to engage Lulu, who responds as she feels fit.

Lulu is, to be sure, not a trained musician. She does not have notated parts or learned responses, and Reid stresses that this is “not a circus act” — to train or direct Lulu would compromise the natural musical responses that Reid finds so fascinating. “I let [the birds] be who they are; they are their best that way. People are their best that way, too.”

The festival is named, in a somewhat tongue-in-cheek manner, after an obituary of John Cage, wherein the author dismissively wrote that Cage “[merely] created music in other people’s minds.” (If you’ve heard of any avant-garde composer, you’ve heard of Cage. Philip Glass might be a close second, and he performed at the first Other Minds in 1993). Cage’s wide-ranging musical interests set a precedent that persists through this program. From Mark Applebaum’s sound sculptures, to Charles Celeste Hutchins’ live-generated digital projections (produced by self-developed software), to Myra Melford’s solo piano performance (seemingly old-fashioned in this context, though it will sound nothing of the sort), the festival’s intentionally non-thematic lineup covers an enormous variety of work. If ours are the “other minds” in question, they will be kept quite busy.

roscoe mitchell
Roscoe Mitchell

Widely referred to as an “American iconoclast,” living saxophone legend and prolific composer Roscoe Mitchell will present his composition Nonaah, arranged for four bass saxophones. If you’ve never heard or seen a bass saxophone, you’re not alone: it’s a rarely used instrument, larger then the more common baritone sax and with a deeper range, a full octave below the tenor. “One of the aspects of music that engages me is the sound, and the desire to know how all music works,” Mitchell says of his penchant for performing on unusual woodwinds. Nonaah itself is a composition that dates back to 1976, when Mitchell performed it on solo alto saxophone for an initially skeptical crowd in Europe. He thoroughly won the room, and has been exploring the piece ever since.

“When I first imagined this work for alto saxophone, I had no idea that this composition would take on a life of its own,” Mitchell says. After arranging the piece for alto sax quartet, he went on to write a completely notated version for four cellos, followed by flute, bassoon and piano, chamber orchestra, orchestra, and now bass saxophone quartet. Multiple doctoral theses have been written on Nonaah, and Mitchell is currently planning on writing a book about it. “For me it’s a kind of musical journey — it starts out a piece for alto saxophone, and now it’s a piece for full orchestra.” [See a video of Mitchell performing at a recent Exploratorium series below.]
 
Mitchell’s is not the only journey that leads to Other Minds 19. The festival’s line-up includes Donald Buchla, a prolific creator and founding father of sound synthesis who will be presenting the U.S. premiere of his composition Drop by Drop, as well as Joseph Byrd, one of the earliest adopters of synthesizers in rock ‘n’ roll. The entire program, in fact, is filled with either giants of the field or emerging stars.
 
don buchla
Don Buchla

Yes, there will also be animals, instruments you’ve never seen before, and electronic controllers that may well remind you more of Star Trek than a concert hall. But, as Wendy Reid says, this is not a circus act: These are composers and improvisers pushing the boundaries of serious music.  “There’s a thirst among maybe 2 percent of the population to hear this music,” says Amirkhanian, but the people in this dedicated group hail from every corner of the globe — and, as young Charles personally discovered, from every demographic.

Other Minds 19
Fri/28 – Sat/1, 7pm discussion and 8pm concert both nights
$25 – $65
SFJazz Center
201 Franklin, SF
www.sfjazz.org
www.otherminds.org

Nite Trax: Esta Noche to close, adios Esta Noche

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Nite Trax: Esta Noche to close, adios Esta Noche

Not even a guest starring role on Looking could save beloved Latino-oriented gay dive Esta Noche, alas! According to Eater SF, the Mission favorite is being sold by its owners — reportedly willingly — to the team behind SoMa meat market Wish.

The new owners take over next week, but will keep things the same for a while, in order for everyone to have some time to say goodbye. (New Mission businesses, please take note: this is how you help avoid a PR nightmare.) Then get ready for more craft cocktails and loungey vibes, Missionites! Ugh.

I like the Wish kids, and I know that the Esta Noche tale is more complex than a simple eviction. Still, it’s heartbreaking to see a community mainstay — 40 years! — shutter, especially one that caters to a different crowd than Castro-roaming bachelorettes and tired Britney queens. Legendary comedy nights, hilarious performances, and, of course, the insane Miss Gay Primavera contest all played out on its stage. And where the hell can I hear Norteno music while cruising cute boys now?

With this coming hard on the heels of the 77 Geary building booting out its art galleries for tech companies, it has been suggested that the Guardian should start a column shaped like a tombstone, listing all the things we’re losing. But at least we’ll have craft cocktails! 

SF’s Happy Fangs just want you to dance already

Steven T. Jones
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What do you get when two incredibly energetic performers — a guy and a girl who are each accustomed to being at the helm of a band, to commanding attention as the focal point of the room — decide to form a band together?

If the guy and girl in question are Mike Cobra of King Loses Crown and Rebecca Gone Bad (aka Rebecca Bortman), formerly of My First Earthquake, what you get is Happy Fangs — a band known for a ferocious, fiery, determinedly and cathartically fun live show, with music that owes equal debts to anthemic pop and classic ‘70s punk rock, and an aesthetic that’s maybe one part French New Wave, two parts experimental art school final. They also make up a new song, on the spot and with audience participation, once during every performance. Did I mention they seem to be having fun?

Ahead of their Noise Pop show this Friday at Slim’s — at which they’ll be performing for the first time with their third member, brand-new drummer Jess Gowrie — we caught up with the pair to hear about their influences, their onstage dynamic, and the importance of having cute girls dancing in the front row.

San Francisco Bay Guardian: I know Happy Fangs started when another project ended. How did the two of you meet up?

Rebecca Bortman: My old band shared a practice space [with Mike’s]…and when word went out that I was quitting, he sent me an email.

Mike Cobra: I contacted her asking what she was up to next, because if she said she was gonna stop making music, I would tell her that she shouldn’t, because she’s super talented.

RB: He was jumping in front of my talent train.

MC: And she sent back an email saying, “Well, I’m looking to start a band with just one other person and see what happens.” So I said, “OK, let’s do a couple demos.” We shared demos via email back and forth for a couple months before we decided to get together and start writing songs.

SFBG: So much of your energy and dynamic onstage seems to come from the contrast between you. Is it always harmonious, being a band made of front-people?

MC: As far as personas go, it’s true we’re very different: we say she’s the happy and I’m the fangs. But I don’t think we compete onstage, exactly. That’s part of our goal with adding the drummer, as well — she’s a very expressive, animated person, and we like to give people something to look at, even if it is competing. If anything, I think it keeps us on our toes.

SFBG: What did each of you listen to growing up? Do your influences complement each other?

RB: The one tape I listened to when I was young was The Big Chill soundtrack. Wait, also, [Michael Jackson’s] “We Are the World,” which has a B-side that’s Bruce Springsteen doing [Jimmy Cliff’s semi-obscure song] “Trapped,” live. Which is a really powerful song that gets really quiet, and then really loud. That song sculpted my desire to be on stage, Bruce Springsteen on the live “Trapped.”

MC: There’s one very first song that I remember listening to. I had an older brother, and when I was four years I would listen to his 8-tracks, with headphones, and I remember just rewinding and replaying this one song, one guitar riff, over and over again. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized it was Kiss’ first album. So I’ve been kinda stuck to that my whole life. I also got a lot of old-school country music, late ‘60s, early ‘70s music from my mom. And then I started listening to a really weird mixture of things as an adult, lots of punk rock, hardcore, metal. I say I like everything from Johnny Cash to Cannibal Corpse.

SFBG: I read another interview with y’all where you mention drawing inspiration from Kathleen Hanna, whom I also adore a borderline embarrassing amount. What is it about her work that strikes you?

RB: For me, the girl-punk, Riot Grrl stuff was all genuinely transformational for me when I was younger. I always think of that moment when a little girl realizes it’s not all about ballerinas and choo-choo trains…I love the idea of the moment when someone who’s maybe been proper and cute up until that point discovers her power — to me there’s an emotion of a five-year-old screaming [in our music]. This woman actually sent us this video of her daughter running around screaming [our song] “Lion Inside You,” and we were just like, “Yes! Do it!!”

MC: And for me, even being a guy, she was kind of one of the only people in the past 15 years who I feel like was very truly punk rock, in the sense of say, [Minor Threat/Fugazi frontman] Ian MacKaye, or Henry Rollins, in that she stayed very true to what she was, and she’s still doing it, still making music. She broke down a lot of boundaries, which is really inspiring.

SFBG: You both live in the city, yeah? Any thoughts on the current doomsday-ish conversation about how artists are fleeing SF because it’s so expensive?

RB: I want to be respectful and sympathetic to people who are leaving, because that totally sucks. I do have an affordable place to live in SF, in the Castro, and I know a lot of people are not in that situation. I also do think the culture of the city is totally changing. One thing that keeps us here is Mike and I also both work in an industry that’s here — we’re both designers. We kind of never stop working.

MC: I think San Francisco is a tough place to make music right now, and the situations where music venues are closing definitely affect everybody. And bands like Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall — I definitely understand why they would want to [leave], if you’re a touring band and thats how you’re making your money, you don’t want to spend it all on rent! That has definitely sucked a lot of the arts out of the city. At the same time, I think it’s a city that’s constantly been about change, from the time of the forty-niners. The same thing happened in the ‘60s, and with punk rock in the ‘80s, then metal…it’s a place of constant change, and I do think you kind of have to roll with it.

RB: Also, both of us are from much shittier places. I’ve been here 7 years, he’s been here 14, but we’re still in utter appreciation of the fact that we live in paradise. Yes, paradise is changing, but it’s still way better than Pittsburgh.

SFBG: You guys released a self-titled EP in October. What’s next for the band?

RB: Well, first, with this show, we have to haze our new drummer, Jess. This will probably involve some sort of vegan blood substitute. And we’ll be playing an awesome show with a bill of all female-fronted bands at Bottom of the Hill on April 5. Then later in the year, we’re going to record and release a full-length album, hopefully this fall, and go on tour — we’re going to Canada in the summer for a festival, so alert the officials.

SFBG: What else should people be on the lookout for at this show in particular?

MC: Well, it’s our first time playing without a drum machine, so if people haven’t seen us before, great; if they have, I think it’ll be a pretty big change in a really good way.

RB: The other thing I’ve been thinking about is people dancing at our shows, and how I wish it would happen more. To be totally sexist, I’ve noticed that having a couple of really hot girls dancing up front really helps. So girls, women, ladies, if you will dance, please come out. In fact, you can email us and we’ll put you on the list: happyfangsmusic [at] gmail.com.

Happy Fangs (w/ Cold Cave, Dirty Ghosts, and Painted Palms)
Fri/28, 7pm, $16
Slim’s
333 11th St, SF
www.slimspresents.com

Gimme 5: Must-see shows this week (Noise Pop edition)

Steven T. Jones
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Gimme 5: Must-see shows this week (Noise Pop edition)

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the festivals of San Francisco. Or something like that. SF Beer Week is over, dear readers, but fret not! It’s the end of February, which is undoubtedly the cruelest month, no matter what T.S. Eliot said, when the darkest days of winter (in places that have that season) are finally over, and the first blossoms of spring are testing their sea legs like so many trepidatious Bambis. In these parts, that means one thing: Noise Pop is upon us.

This the year NP turns 22, so the festival is definitely old enough to hang with the big kids. And there are indeed some big kids in this year’s lineup — Lord Huron, Real Estate, and Dr. Dog, to name a few. But our favorite part about this festival is what it means for up-and-coming Bay Area acts, for whom playing Noise Pop is something of a rite of passage. We’ll be highlighting a few of our favorites over the course of this week, but for now, here are some suggestions for places to show some local pride. As per usual, the tightly-packed schedule presents some tough choices — so yes, we know there are more than five options here. Life’s tough. T.S. Eliot got that one right.

Wed/26

Papercuts and Vetiver @ The Chapel
This is a dreamy package deal if I’ve ever seen one. Papercuts‘ Jason Robert Quever’s melodic, melancholy sighs have never sounded as subtlely polished as on his upcoming album, Life Among the Savages, his first for the brand-new LA-based label Easy Sound Recording Co. Labelmates and fellow San Franciscans Vetiver‘s breezy folk-pop is music for a spur-of-the-moment afternoon drive up the coast. Throw in San Diego opener The Donkeys and you’ve got yourself the sonic landscape of a California we’re in the habit of relegating to car commercials where someone in the passenger seat is grinning and sticking their hand out the window playfully, a California where everyone’s fresh-faced and it never rains. Noise Pop-goers, you can have it all! Especially that last part.
With EDJ, and Vinyl selections by Britt Govea
8pm, $18
The Chapel
777 Valencia, SF
www.thechapelsf.com

(Plan B: Strange Vine/French Cassettes at Bottom of the Hill, or CCR Headcleaner/Skate Laws at Benders)

Thu/27

Jel @ Sparc
Forget the music, watching Jel repeatedly punch drum machine pads and twist sampler knobs on bulky, last-gen machinery would be worth the price of admission. The East Bay-based electronic hip-hop producer manages to keep his appendages intact while stabbing out a dizzying array of kick drums, snares, and percussion in ever-shifting breakbeat arrangements and tempos. On his latest LP, Late Pass (Anticon), Jel balances bass with shoegaze melodies, hints of psychedelia, electric guitar chords and some of his own emceeing. In line with the political undertones throughout the album (“Don’t get comfortable,” the title track advises), this show marks the two-year anniversary of the San Francisco Patient and Resource Center, a medical cannabis nonprofit. — Kevin Lee
7pm, free (RSVP req. for non badge-holders)
Sparc
1256 Mission, SF
www.sparcsf.org

(Plan B: Social Studies, Aan, Farallons, Max and the Moon at the New Parish)

Fri/28

Painted Palms, Dirty Ghosts, Happy Fangs @ Slims
Sure, Cold Cave is technically the headliner, but calling these three local bands supporting acts just seems wrong. SF duo Painted Palms are the darlings du jour of the psych-rock world, for good reason — Forever, released just last month, is one of the most lush, layered debut albums we’ve heard in a while. Dirty Ghosts‘ Allyson Baker is a frontwoman and a half, drawing from punk, blues, experimental rock, and electronica, and the band has promised a new record in 2014, so we wouldn’t be surprised to hear some fresh material. And Happy Fangs, featuring boundless, rough-around-the-edges, sweet n’ salty energy from former members of My First Earthquake and King Loses Crown, will be playing their first show with a live drummer (check back here for a Q&A with them later this week).
7pm, $16
Slim’s
333 11th St, SF
www.slimspresents.com

(Plan B: Soft White Sixties/The She’s at the Chapel, Bleached/Terry Malts at the Rickshaw Stop)

Sat/1

Black Map, Free Salamander Exhibit, Lasher Keen, Happy Diving @ Bottom of the Hill
Yes, there’s a lot going on Saturday night. No, you shouldn’t go see that band you’ve seen a million times before. If you’re in the mood to get super-heavy and excellently weird, this is a solid lineup of newish Bay Area talent running the gamut from Black Map‘s epic, guitar-driven, smart-art-rock-meets-anthemic-metal sound to upstart Happy Diving‘s soft-grunge-leaning, head-bobbing power pop. Lasher Keen’s earthly psychedelia seems to be from another century, you just can’t tell if it’s the future or the past — we’re pretty sure they’d say that’s a good thing. And Free Salamander Exhibit is, of course, the new project from former members of the elaborately theatrical, cultishly loved experimental noise-rock outfit Sleepytime Gorilla Museum. Let’s just say you’re not going to be bored.
8pm, $15
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th St, SF
www.bottomofthehill.com

(Plan B: Mikal Cronin at the Chapel, Mark Kozelek at Great American Music Hall — look for our feature on the latter in this week’s paper.)

Sun/2

Rogue Wave, Trails and Ways, Wymond Miles @ The Chapel

Oakland’s Rogue Wave set the tone for lo-fi, indie pop-rock way back in the mid-aughts, with an onset of popularity so sudden it seemed unsustainable. Not so — the lineup may change, but the band’s talent for crafting jangly earworms needs no further proving, as of last year’s Nightingale Floors. Trails and Ways, whose members met at Cal, make danceable, Bossa Nova-infused dream-pop that broadens and deepens with repeated listens, but doesn’t take itself overly seriously; oh yeah, they also sing in three languages. And Wymond Miles, still probably best known as the Fresh and Onlys’ guitarist, put out his second solo work late last year — a dense, thoughtfully arranged post-punk gem of a record. Note: This is an afternoon show and, with a bloody Mary on the side, would probably be an excellent hangover soother.
3pm, $20
The Chapel
777 Valencia, SF
www.thechapelsf.com

Happy Hour: The week in music

Steven T. Jones
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Happy Hour: The week in music

Dearest clock-watchers! If you hadn’t noticed, it’s almost the weekend. In the event that your excitement is currently tempered with social anxiety about which pop culture topics to discuss over happy hour beverages — a very sad and all-too-common affliction — here are a few gems from the music world that the Internet bestowed upon us this week.

— The 5th annual Burger Boogaloo, one of the spunkiest (and most affordable!) festivals in the Bay Area’s grand feast of summer festival offerings, announced its lineup yesterday, and it’s a good one. What says “summer” more than the legendary Ronnie Spector crooning “Be My Baby” as hipsters play drunken kickball around you in Mosswood Park?

— Oakland noir-pop rockers DRMS released this epically and mysteriously engaging 17-and-a-half-minute film set to some of the most experimental music we’ve heard from them yet. They’re at the Rickshaw Stop tomorrow night [Sat/22], if you wanna get good and dreamy.

— The city of Abderdeen, Wash., home of one Kurt Cobain, celebrated its first annual “Kurt Cobain Day” yesterday, Feb. 20, on what would have been the rocker’s 47th birthday. With what, you ask? Why, a giant, weird, crying, Jesus-like Kurt Cobain statue, of course. Because that definitely seems like something he would have wanted.

— The SFJAZZ Center is a very precocious one-year-old. [SFGate]

— Kelis will finally get to share her milkshake recipe with the world — or at least viewers of the Cooking Channel — thus eliminating the need for boys to even come to her yard at all.

— Cranky dude at the Thermals show last night at The Chapel: You’re unhelpful. [via Mission Mission]

Go forth, my friends. Stay hydrated.

Live Shots: Hether Fortune gets cathartic at the Night Light

Steven T. Jones
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Last Friday it was Valentine’s Day, but all I saw was tears. I’ve wondered before how some musicians can sing some of their more emotional songs during live performance without becoming visibly emotional themselves. Aren’t they attached to those lyrics (especially if they’ve written them)? Are they desensitized by the one-hundredth time they play that song about having their heart ripped out by the one who doesn’t even love them anymore? Or worse yet — the one who never did? It wasn’t full-on sobbing, but last Friday, Hether Fortune wouldn’t hold it in.

Peculiarly sandwiched on the bill at the most recent installment of the experimental/industrial-focused REPLICANT Presents series at Oakland’s Night Light, Fortune was scheduled in between opening and headlining acts to deliver an intimate solo set, sans Wax Idols. I had gone anticipating that it would be a rare treat.

hether fortune
Heather Fortune photos by Sadie Mellerio

You’re supposed to be with your lover on Valentine’s. You’re not supposed to be alone. That’s the worst-case scenario if you buy into the norms and expectations placed on yet another commercialized holiday. But imagine being alone, not only because you don’t have your bandmates (Wax Idols) to musically support you, but because you’re going through a divorce. Meanwhile, you’re up on stage about to perform in front of an audience. Certainly not one to hide or shy away from the spotlight, Fortune embraced her predicament. Instead, she announced that in fact, this is her situation.

After Vestals (armed with a guitar and gear that looped layers of complimentary noise) finished her opening set, DJs mixed acid techno with whatever tracks Barn Owl saw fit for spinning that night. But then the room seemed different. One could sense the changing of the atmosphere right down to the molecules because of Fortune’s poised, gothic and graceful presence.

hether fortune

Standing tall without a band or a man; her lanky, trademark androgynous figure appeared on an un-lit stage. Draped in a lacy, button-down blouse; our dually-wounded, heavy-hearted warrior had to face the harsh reality of her bandaged finger that had been crushed and ripped open by an amplifier in an accident a week earlier.

She carefully tuned her weapon of choice — a beautiful black-and-white Danelectro 12-string guitar. The instrument, combined with a hard-cover bound journal (perhaps containing a set list, lyrics, or maybe just her thoughts) that lay at her feet, conjured bohemian images of a hippie-freak, pre-T.Rextasy-era Bolan about to play Middle Earth or some coffee shop.

hether fortune

Stripped of arrangement and with not much more than her soul to bear, the vibe of her set was very much singer-songwriter with an emphasis on despair. While her vocal-style seemed to channel the aura of Bowie, it was her strumming of that jangling guitar, with its larger-than-life sound, that seemed like it could fill the universe with its unwavering, doleful tone.

In a genuinely honest moment and without any dramatic intonation, she quickly uttered “This is tough” into the microphone. Lyrics to a cover song were muddled in the sound system, and then we were treated to a new song, apparently never heard by anyone before. By that point, the words almost didn’t matter since we were already running high on emotion.

hether fortune

Towards the end, tears welled up, overflowing onto her thick eye-liner, mid-song. I was somewhat stunned by the display of emotion, but not at all alienated. The entire thing could have been awkward for both audience and performer, but in reality everyone seemed receptive to what she had to express that night. It was an opportunity to connect on a deeper level or however those who were subjected saw fit.

One could interpret it all as a damaged, agonizing wail and while that may hold some validity, it would trivialize the more noble qualities of a veteran, seasoned ahead of her time, demonstrating strength in sharing vulnerability while ultimately remaining in control. Numbness worn off, Fortune delivered something beautiful only the lonely might fully understand.

Locals Only: Shareef Ali

Steven T. Jones
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0

Is there anything more punk-rock, truly, than baring your soul in the form of a song? That’s what came to mind the first time I heard Shareef Ali, an Oakland-based singer-songwriter whose debut album, A Place To Remember the Dead, will most likely land in the “folk” section of the record store (er, the iTunes store?) after it drops tomorrow, Feb. 19.

Yes, there’s acoustic guitar; there are poetic and earnest turns of phrase about melancholy, joyful, and romantic feelings. But the underlying current is pure punk defiance — a melodic middle finger of sorts to anyone who might suggest that confessional songwriting means you have to be soft, to anyone made uncomfortable by rough-hewn, sacrificial-sounding love ballads, to an indie music landscape that offers little room for artists who don’t buy into ironic or detached as the road to cool.

Ahead of Ali’s record release show at Bottom of the Hill tomorrow night, I asked him how that sound came about.

SF Bay Guardian: Where are you from originally, and what brought you to SF?

Shareef Ali: I spent my formative years in the Midwest; born and bred in St. Louis, Missouri, schooled in Oberlin, Ohio. In 2006 I moved to LA to start a band that existed long enough to play exactly one show. Then I did a few years toiling away in the non-profit world, which brought me up to the Bay. Eventually, I realized that not only would I not be happy unless I was making music, but that I also believed it was the most valuable contribution I could make. I’ve been focused on music for the past five years, and have never been happier or more sure of my path.

SFBG: How and when did you first start playing music? Who are some of your biggest influences?

SA: I got my first guitar in the 7th grade when my mom accidentally ran over my foot with the car and felt hell of bad about it. I played in a kinda all-over-the-map rock band through high school, messed around with jazz and experimental composition in college, but it wasn’t until I got to the Bay that I really discovered my best assets as a songwriter. As far as influences go, there are the obvious ones that you can detect — Oberst, Cohen, Waits, to name a few — but really, my biggest inspiration these days comes from the musicians in the rich local folk scene here, some of whom can write a fucking song as well as anyone. There are a lot of talents, Brian Belknap and Mr. Andrew being two of my favorites (who both also played as sidemen on my record).

SFBG: How do you describe your sound or genre, when forced to do such a thing?

SA: There’s only one thing more obnoxious than trying to describe one’s music in brief, and that’s listening to a fucking musician hem and haw about how they “don’t want to be pigeonholed.” My roots are in folk, but I feel like a punk aesthetic informs my delivery a lot, even if it’s not a punk-style song. And then stylistically I also draw on country, jazz, pop music, old-time blues, whatever. What ties it all together is that it’s all lyrical music. The song, the story, the poetry of it, is the centerpiece; other musical elements are all supportive of that.

SFBG: Some of your songs are obviously very autobiographical/confessional. How do you decide how much of yourself to put into a song, and what to leave kind of vague?

SA: Some of my songs are definitely deeply personal, especially in a tune like “For the Rest of my Life,” wherein I address, by their real names, both my partner and my ex-lover-still-close-friend. I like to put in little Easter eggs of meaning, inside jokes that only the subjects of the songs will get. There’s one song on the record written about another local songwriter, and I quote half a dozen of her songs back to her. Who knows what other listeners take away from these lines, but there are plenty of lyrics in songs I love that I can only guess at their meaning; that’s part of the fun.  On the other hand: My buddy S.A. Bach put it well when he sang, “Writing songs ain’t for telling the truth.”  Or as someone else somewhere said, “A story doesn’t have to be real to be true.”

SFBG: How do you survive financially in the Bay Area as a musician? If you have a day job, I’m always curious to hear about ’em…

SA: I’m fortunate to have a partner with a stable teaching gig who’s very supportive of my music; we’re currently expecting our first kiddo, and I’m probably gonna get to be the stay-at-home papa, which I’m pretty stoked for. I have a few other odd gigs that I do, and I have also spent some time on the dole, for which I make no apologies.

SFBG: What neighborhood do you live in? And what’s the one Bay Area food you couldn’t live without? I love the It’s-It reference in “Tucson.”

SA: I live in the Lower Bottoms of West Oakland. Bay Area cuisine I couldn’t do without? I’m gonna have to go with the handmade noodles at Shan Dong in downtown Oakland. [Ed. note: Fuck yeah.]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaPENY3uIHA

Shareef Ali
With Sparkbox (Kelly McFarling + Megan Keely) and Whiskerman
2/19, 8:30pm, $8
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th St., SF
www.bottomofthehill.com

Locals Only is our shout-out to the musicians who call the Bay Area home — a chance to spotlight an artist/band/music-maker with an upcoming show, album release, or general good news to share. To be considered, drop me a line at esilvers@sfbg.com.

BARF-y, in a good way: Bay Area record labels draw a cattle drive of local music lovers

Steven T. Jones
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On Saturday, the first annual Bay Area Record Label Fair (BARF) was born. As a labor of love between Father/Daughter Records and local promoters, Professional Fans, the event set out to be an ode to the ingenuity and entrepreneurial efforts of record labels in the Bay. Some 17 labels, including Slumberland Records, Loglady Records, Polyvinyl Record Co., Alternative Tentacles, and many more, displayed and sold their music at Thee Parkside.

It was a given that BARF would be successful — after all, it was free, and boasted a live show with uber-talented Bay Area acts — but it was truly staggering to see how packed the place was. At times, wandering through the vendor section was nothing short of a cattle drive. The layout of vendors was superb, however; I was pleasantly surprised to see how the folks behind BARF turned the patio at Thee Parkside into a marketplace for music wares.

al lover

Al Lover

Of course, one big thing that initially attracted me to the event (other than the possibility of spending too much money) were the performances by Al Lover, Cocktails, Twin Steps and Dog Party. All bands were from various record labels tabling at BARF. Al Lover kicked off the more musical aspect of the event. As a San Francisco-based music producer, he combines various beats from ‘60s psych-rock and heavy-sounding drum tracks much like those of Wu-Tang Clan alum RZA. Al Lover has also been known to make remixes of tracks from fellow Bay Area artists, such as Fuzz and Burnt Ones.

More people started to filter in when Cocktails, self-dubbed “slop-pop” from San Francisco off Father/Daughter Records, started to play. At times, vocalist and guitarist Patrick Clos’ vocals were reminiscent of Elvis Costello. Often fuzzed out and with a tendency to combine sneering and saccharine-sweet vocals, the band cranked out its set in record time.

cocktails
Cocktails

Twin Steps, off 1-2-3-4 Go! Records, is a sample-based quartet from Oakland that blends elements of ‘60s soul, weirdo rock, and pop. Known for surf riffs punctuated with yelping vocals, the band is flying off the handle exemplified. Vocalist Drew Pearson tried to engage the audience by routinely darting off the stage and using the crowd as a crutch (literally), but they weren’t quite as receptive as he’d maybe hoped. This was a little disheartening, given the band’s track record of rowdy (or raucous, if you will) shows.

twin steps
Twin Steps

It should be noted here that the audience for the show portion of the event was ultimately meek. Since the event occurred between the hours of noon and 5 pm, maybe there just weren’t enough fierce advocates for day-drinking in the crowd? Pearson was caught saying “I didn’t know we were in a library” during the band’s set. So yes, it was very quiet.

Despite that one shortcoming, Dog Party, a Sacramento-based sister duo (ages 17 and 14) brought an air of Ramones worship to the house. Known cronies of Kepi Ghoulie, their fellow Asian Man Records labelmate and the former frontman for ‘90s pop-punk mainstays Groovie Ghoulies, it’s easy to see where the band draws influence from. The high point of the Dog Party set was its cover of “Los Angeles” by seminal ‘80s punk band X.

dog party
Dog Party

After that, the audience dispersed. Some mingled, others ventured out to vendor area saddled with questions to the tune of “Should I buy this cassette for $5, though I have never heard of this band before?” or perhaps “How did I spend so much money at an event that’s supposed to be free?”

Long story short: BARF was pretty much everything a fan of independent Bay Area music could hope for. So when does this all happen again?

Happy Valentine’s Day from Horse Feathers, Bowerbirds, Fruit Bats, Marissa Nadler, Maps & Atlases, Mark Kozelek, and more

Steven T. Jones
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Happy Valentine’s Day from Horse Feathers, Bowerbirds, Fruit Bats, Marissa Nadler, Maps & Atlases, Mark Kozelek, and more

Devon Reed is a San Francisco songwriter who also happens to be super-passionate about his volunteer work at 826 Valencia, everyone’s favorite Dave Eggers-founded, pirate store-fronted, kids’ literacy nonprofit in the Mission. A little over a year ago, he had the thought: What can I do that would combine the philanthropic and creative sides of my life?

The result is You Be My Heart, an album of 17 songs (almost all of them love songs of some kind) written by Reed, recorded by artists from around the country that he simply liked and decided to approach — including an impressive amount of indie rock royalty, like Bowerbirds, Horse Feathers, Fruit Bats, Maps & Atlases, Marissa Nadler, and Mark Kozelek. Proceeds from the album benefit 826 Valencia.

“I generally approached artists whose work was literate, wordy or melodic, or all three, since I tend to write dense, structured songs,” says Reed. “I also gravitated toward musicians who have a good-natured or folky streak in their work, since I thought that would give a good representation of the feeling of 826.” With the exception of Ghost and Gale, a local dreamfolk duo, he didn’t know any of the artists personally before he started the project. He simply asked bands to participate, and if they said yes, handed songs off to them for reinterpretation.

“I was mostly surprised, pleasantly, by things like a pedal steel solo in Marissa Nadler’s track ‘Half as Much,’ or Bowerbirds adding some real dramatic elements to the bridge of ‘Seven Wonders,’ — little changes that weren’t in my original demos but which nonetheless added something significant to the final versions,” says Reed of his reactions to the bands’ work. “Hearing each of the recordings for the first time was like unwrapping one present after another.”

Below, check out a video Valentine from a handful of the participating artists, as well a track from Bowerbirds. They’re both pretty. Just listen. For the children.

Here, have a new Thee Oh Sees track

Steven T. Jones
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Here, have a new Thee Oh Sees track

It’s been a while since any of us here in media-land mentioned John Dwyer in a non-despairing tone, let alone a context that actually involved a discussion of music.

Well, San Francisco, our dark days are over: Just over a month after the titan of the city’s garage-rock scene announced a new solo project, Thee Oh Sees have dropped news of Drop, their follow-up to last year’s Floating Coffin. The album will be out on Record Store Day, April 19. But to keep you from peeing your pants in anticipation, they’ve given us the album opener, “Penetrating Eye,” and it’s pretty sweet — all dark, angsty vocals over a fuzzy, whiny, feedback-filled wall of guitar. Good music for driving fast on the freeway at night, methinks. Give it a listen, via Castle Face:

Live Shots: Augustines get anthemic at The Independent

Steven T. Jones
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Live Shots: Augustines get anthemic at The Independent

by Stephen Sparks

When my girlfriend and I got into the cab for the ride to The Independent on Monday night, the Slavic driver was rocking out to “The Summer of ’69.”

“Do you like Bryan Adams,” he asked us immediately, making it feel like our answer determined whether he’d give us a ride. So, yeah, we like Bryan Adams alright. “Not everyone likes Bryan Adams,” he continued. “I don’t understand.”

It felt like a fitting prelude to seeing Augustines, a band too sincere to be cool, too earnest to give a damn about being praised by, say, Pitchfork. There’s something refreshing about a band who pin their hearts to their sleeves, who perform every song as if it were their swan song, and who seem genuinely enthusiastic about performing music.

Augustines

Augustines are a trio of singer/guitarist Billy McCarthy, multi-instrumentalist Eric Sanderson, and drummer Rob Allen. Sanderson and Allen are solid musicians who seem to have fun performing, but it’s McCarthy, who was born in Santa Cruz and grew up in Placer County, who stole the show. He’s a theatrical performer who was really stoked to be playing in “fucking San Francisco,” a place that he said “handed me my ass so many times.” Now, living in New York, his affection for California was obvious: “Fucking California! Our coastlines are long,” he began in a sort of call-and-response with the audience, “Cigarettes are $5. Burritos are $7. We hug people when we see them even if we don’t know them very well.” His banter during the show was pitch perfect; it was obvious he was enjoying himself. He even seemed excited to do the obligatory crowd-pleasing clap-your-hands-for-living-in-San-Francisco thing.

I get the sense that McCarthy’s this pumped to play anywhere — “Houston, you have such great museums!” “Phoenix, this dry is heat amazing!” — so this tempered my disappointment in the crowd’s initial lukewarm reception to Augustines’ fantastic new songs off their self-titled album. (“Cruel City,” a fuck-you to New York City, is like the bastard son of “Graceland” and “Born to Run”). But then again, I doubt anyone could match McCarthy’s enthusiasm, and soon the crowd warmed up. I don’t think it would’ve mattered much to the band if we didn’t. They were in fucking San Francisco and were going to give their best effort, dammit.

Augustines 2

The best moment in a show full of great ones came during the encore, when McCarthy and Sanderson performed an unplugged version of “East Los Angeles,” a bittersweet love song for the ghosts of LA, off 2011’s Rise Ye Sunken Ships. McCarthy, bottle of whiskey in hand, moved away from the microphone to the right of the stage, asked for our cooperation, and performed for the hushed audience an amazing rendition. For a singer who relies on a lot of bombast, McCarthy is capable of making a room full of 300 people feel intimate. Especially when, at the end of the show, he thanked us for coming, implored us (this guy doesn’t ask, he implores) to get home safe, and then hugged his fellow band members.

We didn’t take a cab home, we walked. And, because we were so high on the experience of seeing someone do something they love, with passion and energy and conviction, we got home in record time. I can’t think of any better way to praise a show than to say that its energy carried us a mile and a half.

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