Cormac O. Caoimh, Start a Spark (self released) — I really wanted to like this one. I mean, the guy’s from Cork, Ireland, for god’s sake. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough here to make the disc memorable. Caoimh sounds like Paul Simon during the slower, quieter numbers, then turns into Chris Stamey or Tommy Keene on the power-pop ballads — all very admirable, too bad the music is so simplistic (and isn’t helped by a mix that puts Caoimh’s voice too far out front). Still, he throws in a few zingers, like the line, “No one’s gonna notice your tears if they fall into the sea” (from “Deep Sea Diving”), or when he pulls it back and brings it up on keeper “Running from the Raincloud.” Still… Rating: No.

Column 139: Word to the Totally
O’Leaver’s turns 5

Five years ago it was only a dirty, smelly, drunken dream. Today, it’s a dirty, smelly, drunken reality.

That’s right, O’Leaver’s turns five years old this Saturday, and you’re all invited to the birthday party — a day-long drunkfest featuring 10 of Omaha’s finest bands playing in the parking lot.

No one thought the little tyke would ever grow old enough to walk, let alone crawl. And now here it is at its furious fives, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, filled to the gills every weekend with near-deaf drunks stumbling out of their vinyl-covered bar stools, blindly looking for the john while pointing at a pint glass for the bartender to “do it again.”

In those five years, O’Leaver’s, located at 1322 So. Saddle Creek Rd., has managed to place itself alongside such legends as Kilgore’s, the downtown Music Box, the original Howard St. Tavern, the Capitol Bar and Grill and The Cog Factory as one of the city’s important venues, forever etched in the history of Omaha music.

No one is more surprised than owners/operators Chris Mello and Sean Conway. “I never thought we’d be a music bar,” Mello says, recalling the first show featuring Shawn Cox’s band, Microphone Jones. “I thought it was gonna bust. I thought it was too small. I didn’t know.”

There was never any intention of making O’Leaver’s a music venue when the duo “lost their first dollar” on Sept. 7, 2002. “Volleyball was the bread-and-butter for the previous owner,” Conway said. “The bar was just a place to serve the regulars. It was a Nascar bar back then.”

After a series of the usual gimmicks — karaoke, cheap beer specials, etc., — Mello and Conway decided to host a Wednesday acoustic night. When musician Matt Whipkey set up his PA and left it there, the duo figured why not use it. At the time, The 49’r was slowing down on shows. “We picked up what they didn’t want anymore,” Mello said.

The tone changed, however, when Simon Joyner and Tim Kasher (Cursive, The Good Life) decided to do a show there. “That was the first time Marc Leibowitz stepped into the bar,” Conway said. Leibowitz and Jim Johnson, operators of One Percent Productions, saw O’Leaver’s as a place to book bands that were too small for Sokol Underground, and before long, One Percent and fellow promoter Someday Never began bringing in a higher quality product.

It was a strange time for the music scene. In ’02-’03, Omaha was under the microscope of the national music press, hailed as the “New Seattle,” thanks to the success of Saddle Creek Records acts like Bright Eyes, Cursive and The Faint. But at the same time, clubs were closing their doors, and none were opening in their place.

“There was nowhere else to play,” Conway said. “It was weird. The Music Box closed, the Howard St. closed downtown, no one wanted to play at The Ranch Bowl. There was no Slowdown or Waiting Room. The scene was getting all this buzz and there was nowhere for the bands to play.”

Nowhere, that is, but O’Leaver’s. Then as now, the place didn’t have much to offer. There is no real stage or stage lights, and only a sub-par, though functional, PA. Bands play in a corner in front of a big screen TV surrounded by the owners’ tattered record collection staple-gunned to the wall as if it was a teenagers’ bedroom.

Still, it was good enough to host some of the best touring indie bands in the country, including Har Mar Superstar, Cursive, Bettie Seveert, The Rosebuds, Two Gallants, U.S.E., NOMO, The Silos, Oakley Hall, The Like Young, Okkervil River, Criteria, Ladyfinger, Voxtrot, The Willowz, System & Station, David Dondero, Tristeza, The Ex-Models, The Forecast, Dios Malos, Will Whitmore, Scout Niblett, Matson Jones, Tilly and the Wall, as well as local legends like Brimstone Howl, The Terminals, Little Brazil, Todd Grant, Cloven Path and The Monroes.

“I can only imagine what cats think when they enter the parking lot,” Conway said. “They stop in and say, ‘What the fuck? Is this it?’ They’re lucky it’s this big.” Bands quickly forget all that when they walk through the place before showtime and discover a rowdy crowd of discriminating — albeit drunk — music lovers. “You get 30 people in here and it seems crowded,” Conway said. “Especially if they’re hootin’ and hollerin’.”

O’Leaver’s quickly built a reputation as a port in the storm for touring bands crossing the country, looking for a place to land for the evening. Some of the venue’s best shows were last-minute additions. “If you’re gonna have any sort of scene, there has to be a place for a band to play that’s on its first or second tour,” Conway said, adding that the venue has done more than 500 shows and has no intention of ever stopping.

They have, however slowed down. “We’ve cut way back,” Mello said. “We have just as good a crowd or better without bands. And now there are 10 other places that have music.”

“The other venues have big sound systems,” Conway said. “It’s a spectacle to play at those places. Bands can come here and get hammered and play for their friends. That’s the appeal.”

And though rumors continue to circulate that the bar is for sale, nothing is in the works. Looks like Conway and Mello are stuck with it. They don’t seem to mind.

“It can be a grind,” Mello said.

“But it’s been a good time,” Conway added, “all things considered.”

Yip Yip, In the Reptile House (Safrecords) — Beep bloop beep beep blop click boop click click? That’s about all I took away from listening to something that’s about as appealing as reading binary coding on a computer screen. The vocals are sparse and the majority of the album depends on speeding up and slowing down the tempo of the techno-electronica-industrial dribble. Rating: No — Brendan Greene-Walsh

Tim Sez — Give them credit for creativity. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it any more listenable. Sorry Darren. Rating: No

Matt & Kim – self-titled (I Heart Comix) — This debut is pure fun, and by that, I mean that you can tell that this duo truly had a good time making their music. They combine layers of synths and drums, and the result is both catchy and dance-y (hence the “fun” aspect). It’s straightforward, and that by itself is to be applauded. Running slightly under 30 minutes, it never wears thin. The third track, “Yea Yeah,” is a standout, with a chorus that forces you to sing along. Rating: Yes — Brendan Greene-Walsh

Tim Sez: One of the better releases of ’06, it’s still a bit too quirky for my taste, but the Brooklyn duo more than make up for it with their tunefulness. Rating: Yes

Minmae – 835 (Greyday) — I really struggled with this review. Portland’s Minmae combines a ton of talent and musical background, coupled with too much of an artistic attempt at making a record. The product is disjointed, and lacks continuity. The first, rather long track relies on drone-heavy guitar, white noise and random static. The rest of the album rarely strays from that formula. The disc is basically a compilation of 14 “ideas” that the band attempted to translate into songs instead of actually writing a song. Rating: No — Brendan Greene-Walsh

Tim Sez: Rating: No.

Mutemath – Mute Math (Teleprompt/Warner Bros.) — Jeesh. When I first listened to this CD, I thought I was in for a treat. The intro was captivating — a minute-plus change that rested on a strong beat. Then the actual album began. What I had experienced on the first track was washed away by weak chord progressions and horrible pop-influenced vocals. The production is slick and well-recorded, as you’d expect from a band with huge financial backing. Aside from that, it’s a watered down, mainstream attempt that came out as garbage — wet, smelly garbage. Rating: No — Brendan Greene-Walsh

Tim Sez: One of the reasons why I have an intern. Rating: No.

Sothen – Lookatchurself Reggie Measuresworth (self released) — If you can remember the early ’90s, then you already have a good grasp on what this album sounds like. Jangling and often inappropriate guitar riffs over root-rock bass with trash drums. Add raspy vocals that follow the same melody for every song. These guys remind me of a rehash of Bush. Ugh. Rating: No — Brendan Greene-Walsh

Tim Sez: Perhaps a bit too ambitious for their own good, songs were too long and repetitive. Rating: No.

Column 138: Dancing Days
A tribute to covers…

There always has been an overriding disdain for cover bands.

For those who hate them, the reasoning is simple: Cover bands don’t seem to have an original idea in their heads (they argue), they’re merely mimicking the work of other, more creative musicians who had the cojones to put it all on the line with their own music. Fact is, if you really wanted to hear “What I Like About You,” you’d go to a wedding reception or buy a copy of The Romantics debut album.

It’s hard to argue against their points. I’ve heard them recited as recently as the past two weeks by earnest musicians who take their craft a bit too seriously. What they forgot to consider was that maybe, just maybe, the folks who go see cover bands don’t want to have a life-changing experience listening to someone confess their private, personal feelings in front of total strangers. Maybe they just want to have fun and have a few laughs. Does anybody remember laughter?

The ’80s was the era of serious cover bands (see The Ranch Bowl story). Still, cover bands remain with us today, playing at clubs like Chrome, The Ozone and The Arena, bars that hold high the banner of the ’80s-style meat-market (God bless ’em). Look, no one goes to those bars on weekends for the music, just like no one goes to indie rock shows to get laid.

A whole different spin was put on cover bands last week at The Waiting Room, a club that in less than a year has developed a rep as one of the city’s best stages for live, original music. So it was something of a surprise when TWR hosted its first “cover band night.”

First up was The Third Men, a five-piece that features a number of Omaha music legends, including Matt Rutledge (ex-Compost), Mike Tulis (The Monroes), and new drummer Matt Bowen (ex-Magic Kiss (the precursor to Tilly and the Wall, where that tap dancing was first introduced)). The Third Men are renowned locally for original power-pop rock tunes that hover somewhere between Matthew Sweet and The James Gang. Dressed in suits and neckties, they blew through a set of obscure covers by Wings, Richard and Linda Thompson, Bowie, Soft Boys, The Necessaries, Status Quo and The Knack, among others. Yeah, they were covers, but they sounded more like The Third Men playing other people’s music rather than a band trying to emulate another band’s sound. That would come next.

The Song Remains the Same isn’t so much a cover band as a tribute to what arguably was the world’s greatest rock band. I’m not talking about The Beatles or The Stones or The Who or even Bright Eyes (just kidding). I’m talking about Led Zeppelin, a band that I was literally weaned on. Zeppelin and Pink Floyd were the only things I or any of my friends listened to growing up in Fort Calhoun. For any band to try to recreate the power and glory of Zeppelin, well, it’s the height of idiocy. Can’t be done. You go see something like this only to ridicule, to laugh at the geeks on stage tripping over Page and Plant’s effortless miracles.

What I heard instead was a sort of miracle unto itself. Musically, The Song Remains the Same was the next best thing to being there. Consisting of drummer Javier Ochoa (Goodbye, Sunday), bassist Bunny Geist (Dark Town House Band), guitarist Corey Weber (Anonymous American) and singer Jason Pollard, the band was a dead-on sonic replica of Led Zeppelin — in fact, a few people who’ve seen the real Zeppelin said they might sound even better. Sacrilege? Believe me, I’ve heard more than my share of lousy covers of “Rock ‘n’ Roll” over the years. These guys were eerily good, almost too good for their own careers, unless their goal in life is to be in the best Zeppelin tribute band in the world.

They knew every lick of every song, but were smart enough to avoid trying to duplicate them. In other words, they captured the essence of Zeppelin instead of the impossible chore of trying to replicate it. Still, any Zeppelin fan would have marveled at Ochoa’s muscular, Bohnam-esque drumming, or Geist’s bass playing that made me rethink John Paul Jones’ role in the band.

Weber was no Jimmy Page, but there can be only one Jimmy Page, and Weber knows it. These weren’t note-for-note dupes of Jimmy’s solos, instead Weber’s solos worked hard enough to push the songs forward. More importantly, he nailed the Page riffs that defined the band’s sound. Unbelievable guitar tone. Powerful. Accurate. Groovy.

Finally, Pollard. The story I was told was that he was discovered by Geist singing karaoke at Grandmother’s. Pollard is a freak. He even physically resembled Plant (with a little Kenny G thrown in). I marveled at his vocal prowess. He had the full range of a Robert Plant at age 20 and knew every nuance, every vocal riff, every little touch that any Zeppelin fan would recognize.

The tell-tale sign that they were that good: A small group of biker chicks grooved in front of the stage, doing a hippy dance to “The Ocean” and “What Is and What Should Never Be” and all the rest. They were having a good time — as was the band — which is the whole point of cover bands. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.