Tomorrow night at the Ken Club is sure to be a treat. San Francisco’s Low Red Land have released three full length albums, and their newest is called Dog Hymns. The album is full of classic indie/classic emo guitar interplay. There’s also hints and the influence of Americana embedded in this material, but never relying on the form’s derivative and predictable song structures. The singer conjures longing with earnest lyrics and a voice that wears a heart hanging visibly from its ragged sleeve. It all adds up to great rock music, that I’ve been dying to see live for a while now. They are playing with an noisier and punker Brooklyn band called Appomattox. So that is my recommendation for Friday night, if you choose to accept it.
Here’s a song from their new album titled “Landmark.” A refreshing lack of irony in this music. Everything must not be post-modern or post-post modern or whatever the hell ‘post’ we’ve all settled on.
Here’s the promo flier for their tour, click on it to head to their myspace. I will work on a review with pics and sound if all goes according to plan.
Lilly, the awesome photographer of Melodygeek is moving back east, and will no longer be able to take pictures for the site. Her input will be impossible to replace. I wish her the best of luck and feel lucky to have had such an awesome photographer working on this site with me.
For now, I will keep the photos to a minimum. I will take my subpar digital camera to the shows, and try to get a few photos of each band. Don’t expect art.
This weekend a festival of music/media conferences/ and unparalleled joy will be all over the place in North Park. In a decision remarkbable in its simplicity, the promoters (the San Diego Music Foundation) of this event decided to call it the North Park Music Thing. Even the luddites and morons know what this thing is about just hearing its name . And the inclusion of the word “thing” adds an air of mystery to just what might be going down during NPMT. Its such a great name that a description of what NPMT is about is bound to be redundant, which is nice for me, because thinking and originality hurts.
After an opening show on Friday at the Casbah, North Park Music Thing has its biggest day on Saturday. I’m not sure of the number of the bands, but its like, a lot. Last year the same group of people put on a musical event called North by North Park. Apparently this is a no-no, because some unremarkable musical festival, in Texas of all places, has the name South by Southwest which is confusing to people with poor senses of direction
Last year’s event was quite fun, although I only went one day and for a few hours. The descriptions and promotions I’ve read of NPMT make it sound like it will be more of the same. In 2008 , most of the live music action was taking place in the 3oth st. and university area. This year the promoters seem to be singing a few bigger names, maybe to draw crowds that normally couldn’t give a flying fuck about the indie band playing at the Whistle. If there goal was to get some names that will draw big crowds, I think they failed. The top ranked band of the festival are the Presidents of the United States of America. No, not a duet of Bush and Obama, but that band from the 90′s who scored a novelty hit with a song about peaches. First off, I thought that band ceased to exist over a decade ago. And that other radio single Lump was dreadful, and lead to an even more dreadful parody by annoying-to-everyone but the age 6-12 demographic infamous polka perpatrater Al Yancovic. But let us not dwell on the negative, as there are TONS and TONS of fantastic shows happening at NPMT, and, the President’s “Peaches” is without question the finest musical piece written about a type of fruit.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “oh what a great idea, another fucking music fest” “I just went to Pitchfork and Lollapalooza and my brain isn’t ready for another rollercoaster on hard psychedelics.” I myself absolutely abhor music festivals no matter how mindblowing the line-up might be. But NPMT is a different beast altogether for many reasons. First off, most the bands are playing in venues that aren’t necessarily right next to each other. You won’t have to deal with the noise of a side stage act flooding into the main performance. While you’re welcome to travel around to all the different venues, my strategy this year is to pick only a few places with the most densely packed quality lineups. Also, don’t forget this is also a conference, so there are panels at Hotel blah discussing the music industry, turutorials for bands who for some reason want take part in the slow death of the Major Label system and other talky talky blah blah boringness. Just kidding, last year I saw the guy who signed NWA back in the day, it was quite interesting hearing an elderly Jewish man explain why the band was so succesful and groundbreaking. This year, I will be avoiding the panels, because at the age of 2,5 I pretty much know everything there is to know about music and music culture. I run a blog for christssakes!
Tomorrow, both as guide to you readers and also as a way to plan my two days, I’ve assembled an itenierary of the bands I will most likely seeing. Because the event is spread out, and packed with some of the prime local bands, getting to every show you want to is an impossible task. I will also note other shows that I think merit, but because I am but one man, I will be unable to attend. My one main piece of advice is please do not go to a coffee house, as the shows will be poor while the bar shows all have at least something worthwhile. My prejudice against the troubadour has reared its beautiful face once again. (Please note, if you are one of my many stalkers, please keep a safe distance. I like the attention, but lets keep a look no touch policy in effect).
This is something a bit different for Melodygeek. Matt Binder, lead singer of Hotel St. George sent us a copy of their forthcoming album City Boy Lemon. We do not really do record reviews on this site because we already have trouble enough keeping up with the shows we go to, but maybe we will start sometime in the future.
Hotel St. George are a power pop/punk band specializing in fast songs with melody at its core. Fans of the Jam, Buzzcocks and other groups of that ilk will likely enjoy the band. Power pop is one of my musical nerd passions. I’ve seen HSG several times live now, and I am surprised to report that the album manages to be superior to their performances. The production is top notch, packed with loads of harmonies, and Binder’s voice sounds stellar, although his nasal style has been known to be a turn-off to some. I say give them another try if you previously dismissed the act, as the songs on City Boy Lemon are so irresistibly catchy they will be worming their way through your ears for weeks. My personal favorite is the song “Island Boy.” Its just damn good pop. If you told me Andy Partridge wrote this gem, I’d probably believe you, it is that fucking good. The band holding a record release show August 13th at the Casbah with Writer, Intricate Machines and Swim Party. A show not to be missed.
Even though any writing about San Diego’s Apes of Wrath is prime real estate for an endless stream of easy puns and monkey references, I shall refrain from dabbling in such endeveaours. I’m not really a fan of humor per se, as I find it to be mainly the language of the cretin and the philistine. So let’s get on with my brief recollections of the Apes of Wrath circus, which made a recent stop at North Park’s Bar Pink. (The suffocating humorlessness and borderline non-joke of the previous sentence is my way of demonstrating the worthlessness of all things comedic.)
Bar Pink was understandably packed for this show, as Apes of Wrath have caused quite a stir over the last year in San Diego, North Park especially. Prior to this show, I had somehow avoided ever seeing the Apes play, and had only heard a brief snippet of one of their songs. People talk up this band quite a bit, and they just received a San Diego Music Award nomination for best alternative band. It is my understanding that they haven’t even released anything official yet, which means their nomination was based solely on the strength of their flurry of liver performances. No matter what you feel regarding the worth and taste of the SDMA’s, Apes of Wrath’s nomination is quite impressive.
Since the show, I’ve been thinking a lot about the band’s performance and their sound in general, and its caused me great grief and torment trying to pin down adequate adjectives and references to demarcate their sound. The Apes do not sound derivative of any band, so immediately that is a plus. The songs are short, fast and filled with catchy beats and riffs. The Apes obviously like their post-punk, which I felt was one of the few constant strains connecting their songs. Frantic rhythms, quickly spouted vocals and also I picked up on a bit of a British vibe going on. A few songs reminded me Franz Ferdinand, in their dancesability, vocal style and strong rhythms. That popular Scottish band was one of the only groups that I could plunder from my meager musical knowledge. Instead of relying on my weak description, check out my recording of a song that me and many others particularly enjoyed (name unknown). There’s lots of crowd noise, which was pretty much unavoidable.
Bands require drummers, mostly.
The crowd was noisy, rambunctious, and it appeared that many of the patrons had consumed alcoholic beverages. Many jumped and sang along to the songs, making it easy for a jaded-new comer-hipster-douche-bag like myself to get into the show. I know it has been said many times before, even in actual publications, but Apes of Wrath are a local band to watch. Apes have managed to become one of those local bands destined for greater things. City Beat called them the best band in the world, and also stating that after Crocodiles and Wavves, they are the San Diego band to break out. And all of this without even releasing anything. I’d love to hear their frantic mishmash of rock old and new in a recorded format, as their lively show left my head spinning. After they finished, I was at a loss of descriptors and points of musical reference. I asked everyone I knew there (which is an albeit small group) what they would define the band as, and no one could give a clear answer. There’s something special and enticing when a band can elicit outright confusion by the end of a performance. It leaves me wanting more, that maybe with more shows, and some songs to listen to, I can attain a better understanding of what these monkeys are doing with their music. The big question is whether they can deliver an album that captures their frenetic style. Consider me intrigued.
The Bloody Hollies opened the show playing aggressive Rawk. It was fast, and loud, and for whatever reason, I did not enjoy the music. I will refrain from criticizing any aspect of their music, because frankly I can’t pinpoint source of my ambivalence. My recording of their song actually came out really good though, so I’d to give them another try and see if my ears were acting screwy on that night so long ago. Listen away, and check out that killer guitar tone.
Soft Black, hailing from the holy land of Brooklyn, opened the show to a nearly empty room at the Casbah. I found the poor attendance disappointing for a couple reasons: 1) their brand of catchy indie rock would probably appeal to a broad audience and even more notably, 2) world renowned porn star Ron Jeremy played bass for the group.
Ron Jeremy, stage right
If that man on stage wasn’t Ron, then he sure as hell had an uncanny resemblance to that mighty bastion of integrity and acting talent. Although like any kid with half a brain I would’ve loved to shake the hand of the legend himself, I refrained because Lord knows those filthy mitts have been stroking more than bass strings.
Anyway, when it comes to melodic rock, I’m pretty easy to please. And the band hit all the required marks. Vocalist/guitarist Vin’s melodies were catchy, inevitably Dylanesque, and repetitive. The bassist laid down simple and catchy lines tied to moderate drum beats. The lead guitarist, wearing an extremely over-sized sweater, provided noisy outbursts from his Stratocaster and his touches elevated Soft Black songs and even made a few down right great. I briefly browsed the band’s MySpace page and spotted various mentions of Soft Black being a psychedelic rock band, but there was none of that going on that night.
Soft Black’s set didn’t blow my mind, but it didn’t piss me off, which is a plus. Sometimes its nice to see a regular, scraggly indie rock band entertain without resorting to cheap gimmicks or nicking whatever influence is currently primed for plunder. After their set, I didn’t rush to purchase their record, but the forty minutes they played was always enjoyable. Their set ended with Vin putting down his guitar and singing along to a steady, repetitive bass riff and drum beat as the little man in a large sweater knelt before his amplifier and unleashed squealing and wailing accents. I thought the song was catchy, but maybe that chorus comes off a little too forced after several listens.
In the “Atari Lounge,” the area that houses the smaller of the Casbah’s two stages, video games and a pool table, a larger crowd gathered to see local band The Old In Out. I’ve been meaning to see this band for a long time, hearing many people praise the quality and energy of their live show. It’s been many, many years since I’ve been to a punk show, probably due to the softening of my tastes (or weakening, depending on your outlook). Upon seeing the band about to play, I knew this would be a tad different than the run of the mill local indie show. The lead singer, Mikey, was sporting a serious shiner on his right eye, a badge of pure punk authenticity. The band could have used some of those dangerous yet totally titillating hot topic spikes on their clothes, but all five members of the Old In Out just looked like regular dudes.
The Old In Out blasted through short and fast hardcore punk songs. The sound immediately reminded me of early 80’s So Cal punk acts like Black Flag and also of a speedier version of 70’s garage rock. Riffs of usually three or four chords drove the songs, often topped with Rory’s (one of two guitarists) brief, dirty leads that would make Greg Ginn proud. The Old In Out’s energy was palpable and raw, thoroughly engaging the crammed Atari Lounge.
Integral to the success of any band of this style is a lively, commanding frontman. While lacking the build of a Rollins type, singer Mikey
Mikey, who enjoys yelling
tore through the tracks with a loud, deep yell, almost completely ignoring melody. One of the worst things that ever happened to hardcore punk was adoption of the melodic vocal. Mikey and the rest of the band understand that a punk track lives and dies on attitude, which their songs have in spades. His delivery reminded me a bit of Glenn Danzig on the Misfits hellstorm of an LP “Earth A.D.” At other times his delivery brought forth more Black Flag references, but more in the vein of the rotating cast of vocalists that led the band before Rollins became permanent frontman. Here’s a brief recording that does no justice to seeing it in person, but at least provides an approximation of the attitude, noise and reckless abandon that Old In Out bring live.
Mikey may have been singing about what he had for lunch that day or the transient nature of human existence, for I could only make out the occasional random word. Poetry and prose matters little when you are captivated by a band’s total sound and energy. I’m not sure I would listen to their CD at home, because let’s face it, like many of you, I stopped listening to hardcore punk a long time ago. Yet the respect and passion with which the Old In Out bring to this vital musical form is undeniable and praiseworthy. I look forward to catching them play some more, and while my moshing days are far gone (and scarcely existed), sometimes us fey indie-poppers need the occasional kick in the ass to remind us what rock and roll is all about. See the Old in Out as soon as you can, although by now, you probably already have.
Catch these Droogs live ASAP
After the Old In Out made San Diego look fantastic, the show took a bit of a dip in quality. A young group known as Werewolves played danceless dance rock combining annoying stage antics and perfect hair cuts. And by perfect haircuts I mean asymmetrical and of the douche varietal. Granted, attacking a band for their appearance is childish and superficial, but these guys managed to really irk me with their strict devotion to all this is wrong and contrived with dancy indie rock. The set was not without a few moments of entertainment, especially when we were treated to a hilarious few minutes of unintentional performance art. The ‘Wolves decided to play the song they just wrote while they were on tour. I know they wrote this song on tour, because the band told all eleven of us in the audience the details of their amazing journey. While I probably can’t do justice to it, let me at least make an attempt to adequately paraphrase their wonderful story.
Apparently the wolfpack had a day off in Santa Barbara and, crazy ruffians they are, decided to drink a few beers and get a tasty little buzz going. Then those no-good hooligans smoked the pot (aka marijuana)! Yes, this actually happened. Then as they basked in the golden shakras of buzzdom, Werewolves decided to do what they do best: play some tuneage and write an incredible song. In fact, since their day was so amazing, they even made the lyrics about getting high too! Check out the recording, and imagine that you too are also lost in a stoned teenage haze of young, dumb banality:
A minor hiccup occurred when the bassist started the song by herself. The rest of the band yelled at her to stop. Then the guitarist had to come over to the stoned princess and show her how to actually play the song. Apparently she indulged a little too much in sticky icky, and forgot the song’s epic groove. I mean these things happen to every band, especially when every song sounds the same, and when every song is written in a few minutes of intoxicated euphoria. Look, I get high on occasion, but I do it under the assumption that everyone else’s day is not brightened or enlightened by hearing the audible sounds of my brain synapses misfiring. At the end of their set they became common merch peddlers, begging the audience to buy their shit so they could play for gas money. Maybe if they didn’t spend that last fifty on a ziploc of brown lettuce, their performance would have been better, and a few audience members might consider buying merchandise purely out of their own volition, not as a result of the pleadings of a band on a vacation/cross country tour.
I’m sorry for my tirade against Werewolves. In all honesty, their antics are undeserving of such harsh words. But it seriously bugs me that a penny of my admission went to fund these little dweebs’ journey, when those funds could go to any other band that might actually be doing something of note with their musical careers.
The last band to play were the Death Eaters. I submit that I was too intoxicated to give a proper appraisal of their performance (maybe a little bit of the excess Werewolves brain fog drifted into my headzone), but I had a good time. In lieu of a write-up, here are some pictures of them rocking out.
Melodygeek is not dead. We plan on updating more regularly, this site means a lot to us, and we appreciate all the kind words people have given us. Our first show we will cover will be tomorrow night’s Casbah rock show. Word.
Since this show I’ve listened to the Black Mamba EP several times. It’s got a divine, narcotic, good vibe bliss. Support your good local music, and buy a copy. Late last month they released the gem at a fine show at some place called the Casbah.
Paddleboat started the night off. I’ve seen then several times now, but only at house parties and weird non-venues. I was surprised to see that they in fact have a drummer. They sounded different then their more intimate shows, but retained the qualities that make them a standout group. In fact, the drummer added a level of dynamic that enhanced the songs, never fucking up the chemistry of those sweet harmonies that make me so damn jealous.
I can’t figure out the name of this song, so I assume its a new one. They have a full length on the horizon, I believe.
Tape Deck don't need no main stage!
Back in the Atari Lounge, the men of Tape Deck Mountain made a magnificent racket between bands. Biggest surprise of the performance (there were a multitude of unexplained events) was their transformation into a 3 piece. Look at the picture! The close duo of Paul and Travis introduced a bassist as a third member. I don’t make this kind of shit up.
Their set was divided in half, as per the nature of the designated Atari Lounge act. The Casbah can be a mighty loud venue, but Tape Deck proved that even the quaint Atari Lounge was capable of ear damaging decibels. Their set was energetic. Perhaps following their spirit of including a third member, the band invited the whole audience to participate by playing one of their many percussive devices. I didn’t get one, so I slapped me a knee and maybe the behind of a neighbor or two, but who’s counting?
I got a recording of Scantrons, a fan favorite. The vocals sound a bit something else as a result of the weird PA setup they have in that room, not the fault of the wondrous vocalists. Tape Deck’s first set was loose and fun. My personal highlight of the night.
After fifteen to twenty minutes of noisy pop, Drew Andrews took things down a notch on the mainstage of the Casbah. Honestly I didn’t care for the music. It was pretty and perfectly performed, but God, honestly I fucking hated it. Big deal right? I’m sure I’ll hear one of his tunes during one of those great montages on the Gray’s Anatomy. (Not that I watch that trash.)
Here’s the first song he played:
I apologize for the unwarranted snark. Drew Andrews has a good following and an a pedigree that no one should scoff at.
After Andrews and his band finished up, Tape Deck brought back a messy rock to the back room, including a liberal interpretation of Danzig’s classic, “Mother”.
Lastly… the reason for the event, Black Mamba took stage. They played delicate pop songs with gorgeous harmonies. Reminded me of Beach House. Honestly, and obviously, this show was a long time ago. I’ll listen along with you. Track is called “white woods.” A bit racialist, but good nonetheless.
God, where did the time go? Luckily this blog affords me to the chance to look back and remember the past that so easily attempts to flutter and fade away.
A month ago, we went to the Boat House for a benefit show to see Miss Erika Davies and Jackson Milgaten play some songs in a living room. House shows vary wildly on quality, but the Boat House is always a solid choice. We left before Joel P. West and his band played, which I regret because I heard that, and assume that, it was grand. Anyways, onto what we actually witnessed…
Miss Davies and her Jazz-trained guitarist.
I know not the history and education of Erika Davies, but she sounds like she took some vocal lessons in her day. And not just the standard pop style vocal lessons that create afford one a fleeting chance at American Idoldom. Erika Davies sounds classic and performs in a long since passed style. With the cramped space of the boat house, my warm beer in hand, it felt like I was in a speak easy in the 20′s or maybe an illegal jazz hall. Well not quite; the cordial, near library silence of the audience granted the night a vibe on its own. During the song it was kind of like when you stand in an elevator, and everyone stops their conversation, self-conscious of a stranger hearing their voice. Which was good, because the music was quiet.
In voice, style and lyrics, Davies and her cohort on jazz guitar are throwbacks through and through. Her original songs sound like those jazz standards everyone’s heard but can’t place the name of. On first seeing Erika Davies play on a different night, I wrote her off as a talented and authentic one-trick pony. Maybe it took the intmacy of the Boat House vibe to set me right, because I now quite enjoy her style and view her as a true original in the San Diego scene.
Some things that really I really admired: Her charming use of kazoo solos; singing some songs acappela merely because there was no music written (yet); her use of ukele complementing her voice perfectly; the mightly skills of her guitarist; those flashy jazz lines grounded always by Davies, wonderful distinct voice; and lastly, Davies’ little hand motions and sleight bodily contortions made it seem as if she were grabbing each note from an invisible music sheet written in the air.
My favorites were Erika’s original tunes, especially this ukelele song titled “Cavern.” The ample amount of hiss on this recording was not intentional, but it sure makes it sound even more like a song of a bygone time.
Jackson gently rocks the boat house
The final act we saw was Jackson Milgaten, of A Vision of a Dying World, performing solo. In case you stumbled on this site with no knowledge of the San Diego indie scene whatsoever, Jackson is in approximately 30 bands and is instrumental in making San Diego music awesome. Vision hasn’t played many shows lately, and Jackson said that his solo performances were now basically what constitutes the band. He quickly countered this with a plug for an upcoming show with his entire band. I’m not quite sure of what to make of that, other than that they are all in different bands now, and very busy.
He sang both original tunes, and those of his band. One such tune is Travis Wayne, which he said was about a friend, with the name Travis, coincidentally. Expectedly, Jackson’s solo performance of the track is quite different from the full band version available on Vision’s myspace page.
We’ve all got crazy friends right? Unless you’re the crazy one; but how would you know? I like the guy in the audience who agrees with Jackson when he sings something about more good things to come. I have no doubt that Jackson and his cohorts have plenty more to create, and share with us. I am genuinely excited by The Boat House scene, if I may call it so. These guys are involved in far too many interesting projects to even list.
Anyways, Jackson’s performance was a pleasure. While being one of the most talented and active members of the San Diego scene, Jackson is also one its most modest and friendly. His good spirits and sweet songs were contagious, and most everyone in the crowd seemed quite friendly and approachable. Or maybe that was just the dirty beer I consumed. Anyways, a great night, though I sincerely regret leaving before West played, as I adore his music.
Posts are coming soon. Its been a weird and busy few months. Go to the Casbah to see The Dabbers and the Old In Out tonight, or The Whistlestop, where Swim Party and some sort of guest will be playing music.
This is something a bit different for Melodygeek. Matt Binder, lead singer of 
