Column 18 — Muck Surfing for Roses

Probably the most common question I get: “What have you been listening to lately?” Last year alone I received a few hundred CDs in the mail for review, most of them pure crap. But hey, that’s the deal. You swim through the acres of cowflop to find that one perfect rose, and when you do, you want to share it with all the other muck surfers. That’s what being a music critic is all about. That said, here’s what’s floated to the top of the heap recently.

50 Foot Wave, Golden Ocean (Throwing Music) — The sweet-voiced, demure Kristen Hersh who emerged in the ’90s with Throwing Muses and withdrew in the ’00s with her fey solo projects on 4AD, has re-emerged once again. And this time she’s pissed. No woman since (early) PJ Harvey or the late great Courtney Love has rocked so hard so well with so much intensity. As punk as it is anthemic, this is a brutal, bruising guitar rock record that burns with Hersh’s throaty, snarling voice singing (screaming) lines like “I’ve never been afraid to die / I’ve never been afraid before.” Guttural.

Maria Taylor, 11:11 (Saddle Creek) — Along with Orenda Fink (or is it Fink-Baechle now?) Taylor makes up the duo Azure Ray — a folksy, mousy and somewhat withdrawn project that’s all about harmonies and broken hearts. Alone, though, Taylor takes on a new intensity with music that throbs and pounds and breathes with a beauty that pops more than wilts. Which is a fancy way of saying I like this better than the Azure Ray records, mostly because it prefers to quietly rock than quietly whimper. With a Fink solo CD coming out later this year on the same label, this creativity influx can only mean good things for Azure Ray fans.

A Frames, Black Forest (Sub Pop) — The march-of-the-metal-soldiers intro foreshadows the angular, industrial nightmare that lies ahead, like listening to a million Gang of Four robots cut loose in Kraftwerk land. Consisting of former members of Cows, Butthole Surfers and Scratch Acid, Seattle’s A Frames creates a stern-faced, thick-chorded racket that bludgeoned fans of The Fall will recognize immediately for its barren, Cold War sheen. Touch my monkey. Go ahead, touch it.

Iron & Wine, Woman King (Sub Pop) — Breathy folker Samuel Beam, a.k.a. Iron and Wine, already has been embraced by the same O.C. crowd that’s been gobbling up copies of the Garden State soundtrack like they were coupons for free cell service. Don’t be dissuaded by the cool-kid factor. From its rat-a-tat mantra-like title track to its urgent, harmony-tinged, finger-picking closer, any of the six songs on this EP would make perfect mix-tape fodder. An acoustic-powered gem.

South San Gabriel, Carlton Chronicles: Not Until the Operation’s Through (Misra) — The side project by Centro-matic frontman Will Johnson sports the same dust-covered rural melodies as that band’s best, minus the roar. Instead of muscular feedback, Johnson prefers a pretty pedal-steel or piano part, making this dimly lit afternoon music. Johnson’s gravel-pit mewing is bound to make him the Eddie Vedder of our generation thanks to a pure distinctiveness that will be emulated by every bar-whore band in the Midwest if it ever gets discovered beyond the in-the-know indie crowd.

Robbers on High Street, Tree City (New Line Records) — Red hot from the mean streets of NYC, the Robbers have only been churning it out since the summer of 2002 and already they’re this year’s “future of rock” band. I don’t know about that, but you could do a whole lot worse. Their laidback rock-with-an-edge gets compared to The Strokes but more closely resembles Spoon or Wheat, with a giddy-up pop-rock sheen that glows from crooner/heartbreaker Ben Trokan’s sweet, sweet swagger. Produced with Peter Katis (Interpol, Mercury Rev, Get Up Kids), look for Tree City on a radio near you, eventually.

Little Brazil, You and Me (Mt. Fuji) — Local heroes get it right on a pop-rock keeper featuring Landon Hedges’ quirky, forlorn voice.

Heavy Trash, Heavy Trash (Yep Rock) — Jon Spencer’s latest is cooler and cleaner than anything that hepcat has done in years.

Holy Ghost, Welcome to Ignore Us (Clearly) — Former Lincolnite Chris Heine (Urethra Franklin, Opium Taylor) and his gang of NYC devils vamp up their angular punk sound for the better.

A reminder about that Silo show tonight at O’Leaver’s. They’re the opening band and, according to their website, will be going on at 9 p.m. sharp! See you there.

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Seems like there are a lot of alt-country bands these days, so much so that alt-country has become a cliché term. People now call it Americana or Roots Rock or some such thing. But back in the day, the only term for twangy, rural-fied rock was alt-country. I was never a big fan of the style, mainly because I don’t much care for the yee-haw grinnin’ quality of country music. Or, as the owner of The 49’r once put it, country music makes me car sick. That it does.

That said, whenever an alt-country act would roll into town someone would ask me if I was going to the show. My reply was universal: “I’m not really into alt-country, except for maybe The Silos.” I usually got a blank stare in return. No one had heard of The Silos, and around here, most consider Uncle Tupelo the originators of the genre. But five years before No Depression came out, The Silos had released Cuba, which pretty much defined alt-country, for me at least. In fact, they followed it up five years later with their RCA debut, The Silos, which is one of my favorite records. But though they won their share of critical huzzahs, The Silos never really caught anyone’s attention, instead being overshadowed by Uncle Tupelo, which became Son Volt and Wilco, and so on.

So time passes and I’m clicking through the O’Leaver’s website the other day, looking at the calendar of upcoming shows, and lo and behold, what’s listed for tomorrow night but The Silos (O’Leaver’s website appears to be down for the count right now, so you’re gonna have to trust me on this). When I read it, I laughed out loud thinking some poor local schmucks took the band’s name not knowing who The Silos were. It had to be a mistake, especially considering that The Silos were the opener for a bill headlined by The Dead Science (ex-Xiu Xiu) and local phenoms Le Beat — neither of which have anything at all to do with alt-country. But just for kicks, I googled “The Silos” to see if they had a website, and of course discovered that the band playing Wednesday night is, in fact, “The Silos” (see for yourself). The band is just returning from a tour of Germany and an appearance at SXSW (playing at the GBV Hoot at Emo’s no less). Of course, there hasn’t been one iota of press about this show, and maybe that’s a good thing considering O’Leaver’s tiny capacity, etc. I beseech anyone who has even a scintilla of interest in alt-country to catch a band that really helped define the genre. You may never get another chance.

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If you don’t know it already, frontman and head pornmaster Tim Moss is one of the godfather’s of Omaha punk rock, having glowed brightly during the city’s golden age with gutter-groove band Ritual Device before being exiled to San Francisco and all its glammy decadence. The new Porn album, Wine, Women and Song, on stoner label Small Stone, continues Moss’s travels into grinding, tonal, sludge metal/noise with double-digit-length songs designed to drain you of your will to live. This time out he has veteran drummer Dale Crover (Melvins) and bassist Billy Anderson (Sleep, Orange Goblin). Read about the band’s history and the last time they came through Omaha here. Local metal giants Bloodcow open. I expect this to be a monster show. $5, 10 p.m.

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Some thoughts on last night’s The Show is the Rainbow CD release party at Sokol Underground, where around 110 showed up:

I missed Shineyville and Milk, thanks to Wake Forest. I caught Caught in the Fall. The guy running the show said they were a hardcore band. I wouldn’t call what they do “hardcore,” but what do I know? I’m not exactly an expert on the genre. The people who were surrounding them on the floor seemed into it, and that’s all that really matters. Jabid was a guy who performed over recorded synth/videogame music/noise paced at about 300 bpm while gameshow footage and “shock” video (operating procedures, disease images, conjoined twins) was shown on a screen behind him. He also performed on the floor.

The Show is the Rainbow a.k.a. Darren Keen, used the screen to show a video during his performance, which took place both on and off the floor. The proceedings began with Darren lambasting the soundguy about the house music — Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” Said Darren, “I hate The Cure. Turn that shit off!” I still don’t know if he knew… well, whatever.

Mr. Keen performed his entire CD, Radboyz Only!!!, in sequence, Cursive-style. If you haven’t seen TSITR before, it’s Darren singing/rapping over a CDR of his music interspersed with yelling at the crowd and assorted wicked dance moves. He’s an entertainer. In the past, Darren did his shtick from the floor with the lights on, running around the crowd, yelling in their faces — a true entertainment outreach program. And the crowd got into it. Unfortunately, most of that interaction was lost with his new video — a homemade i-movie affair that mixed footage of Darren and his friends with mod graphics, text, etc., all sequenced to the music. Sort of like The Faint’s deal, but on a smaller scale. And just like with The Faint, the crowd tended to keep its eyes on the video and not Darren, resulting in a rather dead audience.

Here’s one example where the video was a deficit instead of an enhancement: In the past, one of Darren’s funnier bits was his intro, where he lip-synched a prerecorded bit and filled-in the blanks, depending on where he was and who he was performing with. “It’s great to be here at (fill in venue name).” It was a hoot. Now he uses a video that shows him in a shower reciting the intro (he still fills in the blanks live). Interesting, but not as funny. On the other hand, some of the video footage was hysterical and effective, such as the shot of a young GW flipping off a television camera before an interview, repeated over and over, and the footage of Keen’s mouth videotaped sideways. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good little film, but it took away from a live performance that’s already dependent on prerecorded audio and sucked the life right out of the audience.

The nine songs from the new CD are pure TSITR — fun homemade beats, electric guitar touches, sound effects, and Darren’s sissy rap mixed with falsetto crooning. Crowd pleaser “Up a Creek without a Saddle” was introduced as a song about how much he hates Bright Eyes. I couldn’t make out the words because of the sound quality of the vocals (and I don’t have a copy of the CD). A lot of it sounded more like a dig at scenesters who frequent indie rock shows. Ironically, one of the best songs off his new album, “Babe Born with Blue Eyes,” is a ballad that sounds like a Bright Eyes song a la Digital Ash. I wasn’t the only one who noticed this. Other highwater marks were “Jailbait Babycake,” a catchy number about pop punk frontmen chasing after 14-year-old girls, and another slower number performed about halfway through the set.

All in all, TSITR’s music can be fun and compelling, but it’s the live show that makes TSITR TSITR. With the video, the lights out and Darren relegated to the front of the room, a lot of that live exuberance was lost. Plus there was no fake blood. When the set ended, Joy Division came back on and Darren again yelled for the sound guy to turn it off. Instead, he turned it up.

We all get a night off to prepare for Men of Porn and Bloodcow at The Brother’s. Oh boy…

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Quite a different scene from the last Low show at Sokol Underground. For one thing, there were twice as many people there — around 240 — which is still somewhat disappointing, considering that Low is easily one of the most important bands currently on the road. Hell, they topped the CMJ charts for a month with their new album, and still most people around here never heard of them.

After a set by The Mariannes, which I missed due to the NCAAs, Kid Dakota took the stage as a two-piece — just frontman Darren Jackson dressed to the nines in a black suit on electric guitar and vocals, and an intense Christopher McGuire on drums who I’m told performs with John Vanderslice. The music was droning rock, a good fit as an opener for Low. Jackson’s voice is a facsimile of Thom Yorke’s without the high-end, agreeable if somewhat limited melodywise. As the set progressed, Zak from Low joined in, along with Alan Sparhawk. I liked it, though the songs didn’t sound like the stuff I’ve heard from the new Kid Dakota CD on the Chairckickers website. McGuire ended up being a real show-stealer. He was bundle of quirky mannerisms, changing his cymbals after every song and punctuating the set by raising his drumstick over his head then punching it through the snarehead, leaving it sticking straight out as he walked off.

Then came Low. Sparhawk was in a chatty mood, maybe he was nervous, though I doubt it. At one point he said, “I’m talking more than I’m singing tonight.” The set began with “Monkey,” off the new album, and from where I stood — off of stage right, just behind the stack — it sounded good. But Sparhawk was so disappointed that he wanted to play the song over. Apparently Mimi’s bass drum hadn’t properly mic-ed and couldn’t be heard in the audience. After the soundguy hooked it up, Sparhawk was ready hit it again, but Zak talked him out of it. They would up playing it again during the encore.

I expected the performance to be an all-out rock bonanza, seeing as The Great Destroyer has very few lows (so to speak), but was pleasantly surprised by the mix of slow/quiet older songs with new uptempo rockers. The crowd, bustling with local music notables, was adoring — one girl was draped over a monitor swooning the entire set, while another feverishly scribbled in a notebook — I found out later that she was actually drawing sketches of the band (which actually looked pretty cool). One guy standing by the stage had his head bowed throughout the slower songs, reverentially. And yes, there were a few chatterboxes jawing about amps and guitars off to the side, but hardly a distraction.

Maybe because this was the first show after a few weeks off, but there were a number of noticeable technical glitches, specifically with Sparhawk’s guitar rig. Pedals were missed at the worst moments (such as the explosion at the end of “When I Go Deaf”), and there were occasional dropouts. I could barely hear Mimi’s cymbals all night. Despite that, it was another very special Low show, highlighted a brief acoustic set toward the middle, where Zak put down the bass and pulled out an acoustic guitar. It ended with Sparhawk dedicating “Death of a Salesman” to his dad, who was in the audience. The hubby-and-wife team of Parker and Sparhawk continue to amaze me with their pitch-perfect, brokenhearted harmonies — the element that, for me, makes Low one of the most poignant and affecting band going these days. If you missed it, you missed a lot.

Tonight, of course, is The Show is the Rainbow CD release show at Sokol Underground with Jabid, Caught in the Fall, Milk and Shineyville. Five bands, though Darren Keen — the show behind The Show — tells me that Jabid only plays 11 minutes and Milk is a DVD puppet show. Watch out for flying blood.

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Tonight’s Low gig at Sokol Underground should be something special. It’s the band’s opening show on this tour. “We’ve got some family coming down from South Dakota,” Mimi said during our interview last week. I asked her what we could expect. Will it be the same sort of performance as the last time they came through? “For the most part,” she said. “We’re gonna be playing the new songs, which will add a new element to it. It’s just us three. At one point we go acoustic. Zak pulls out an acoustic guitar. It’s a break in the middle of the set.”

Low is one of those bands that historically hasn’t drawn well in Omaha — only 130 in Feb 2003 (here’s the review w/pics). I can’t understand why. Maybe it’s the lack of radio support or that fact that the band had a reputation for playing dark, hushed sets. Tonight’s Low show will be anything but a downer, and for those who choose to miss this, it’s their loss.

Opening the show is Omaha favorites The Mariannes and Kid Dakota, a band that’s on the record label owned by Low, Chairkickers. As you would expect, Kid Dakota’s music has a similar slow, quiet yet powerful sound, like a storm brewing on the horizon. Check out this song from the Chairkickers’ site. See you tonight.

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Column 17 — Creek Runoff

It was so long and detailed that you’re probably still reading last week’s cover story about Saddle Creek Records. Though it clocked in at just over 3,200 words I still had to cut 1,500 of exciting — nay important — information to make it all fit with those strangely inappropriate photos of the Creek staff looking beaten and broken (I wasn’t responsible for the photo concept or the headline used in the printed version, which had nothing to do with the article). So instead of leaving data unwritten to eventually fade from memory, here’s a few items from the Q&A session with Creek yes-men Robb Nansel and Jason Kulbel that didn’t make the cut.

But first, a brief tour of the Creek’s lavish new world headquarters, where the company was forced to move by a combination of success and landlords. Like their old Benson digs, the new offices are unmarked, making them difficult to find among the catacombs of alleyways south of 75th and Cass — a faceless building hidden among faceless buildings. Once inside you still can’t tell you’re standing in the epicenter of the indie rock world. Sure, there’s CD artwork on one wall from the latest releases by The Faint and Bright Eyes and The Good Life, but little else distinguishes the place from any other low-rent, start-up squatter’s flat.

Nothing, that is, except for the sound equipment stacked in a shit pile in the center of the room, stuff that Kulbel said returned on the Bright Eyes bus. Among the goodies, a box containing the broken remains of an electric guitar, it’s neck a jagged piece of well-lacquered wood. Somewhere the E-bay gods drooled.

To the left, the “graphics room” where designer/hero Jadon Ulrich slouched bleary-eyed behind a computer. His walls are barren except for a cartoon-quality fan painting of Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst looking as if he’s standing on the face of the moon, his hair-swoop covering his face. “That came back on the bus, too,” Jadon says, grinning. “Isn’t it great?”

We stroll through the stock room, where boxes upon boxes of T-shirts, CDs and other “merch” are stacked in racks — a huge improvement over the flotsam found in the dirty basement storeroom of their old offices. Adjacent is another room used for packaging. It’s empty now, but it’s easy to imagine a small squadron of T-shirted hipsters bent over the long table, joylessly stuffing envelopes with oversized hoodies.

Boxed in a windowed corner office in the back stockroom is the label’s new accountant, Mike Brown, also working late (It’s tax season, after all). Again, no artwork on his walls. The same holds true for Nansel’s and Kulbel’s offices. The walls are empty while the floors are crowded with packages, CDs and other junk. Nansel’s office boasts a decent stereo system with a relic from the past called “a turntable.” He brazenly shows off a Metallica box set that an industry goon has mailed him. “Look, it’s numbered,” he points to a little metal label on the case, “but this one, see, it doesn’t have a number!” Cool, are you gonna E-bay it? Nansel scowls. “No, dude, I’m gonna listen to it.”

Alright, alright, enough colorful description. Where’s the newsy stuff I promised?

— Kulbel and Nansel said Creek releases for ’05 include a Cursive B-sides collection, solo albums by both members of Azure Ray — Maria Taylor (called 11:11, slated for May 24) and Orenda Fink (out some time later this year, after her wedding to The Faint’s Todd Baechle), and a new Mayday record. No mention of a new Desaparecidos album. When pressed, the duo just nodded their head, saying it seemed unlikely that Oberst would be able to record his tracks while on the road as originally planned.

— Lincoln’s Presto! Studios is moving to Omaha as their old Lincoln studios has a date with a wrecking ball. Mike Mogis recently purchased a large house at around 67th and Dodge that likely will be used as a studio.

— The Faint’s last album, Wet From Birth, has sold around 65,000 copies. Was it a disappointment considering the high hopes? Not at all, said Kulbel, though Nansel said he expected more. They predict another sales spike when The Faint hits the road with Bright Eyes for the Digital Ash in a Digital Urn tour later this spring.

— The much rumored Bright Eyes documentary, which began filming a couple years ago, is dead, Kulbel said. Another documentary, however, is on the horizon.

Just placed online, an interview with Low’s Mimi Parker (read it here). The story’s focus is on how and why the band brings their kids with them on tour, their new album and why they’ve gotten louder over the years. I can unequivocally tell you that the new Low album, The Great Destroyer, is my favorite of their entire catalog — it just plain rocks.

Among the stuff that didn’t make it into the interview, I asked Mimi if the momentum created from the last two rather successful albums was what drew them away from Kranky to Sub Pop. “Maybe a little bit,” Parker said. “We love Kranky. We were sad to go, but at same time, Kranky does things a certain way and we respect them for it, but we kind of just decided we needed to bump it up a bit and see what Sub Pop could do. Sub Pop has been working some great bands and had big successes.”

But surely Low has had interest from the majors, right?

“Not really seriously,” Parker said. “We had lunch with someone once. At the same time, we did kind of decide that it would be a crazy route to take. You’re such a small fish in a big pond. Majors are so unstable now. People are coming and going so fast. You sign with someone and have an A&R person who loves you, and then they’re gone and you’re stranded there.”

Ah, that same old story. Imagine if Low were on a label. I, too, can’t see how it would work. I asked Mimi how she would react the first time the label guy called after hearing the new record saying “Where’s the single?” She laughed. “I’d tell him that they’re all singles.”

Mark it down, Low plays at Sokol Underground Friday night with The Mariannes and Kid Dakota.

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So I never got around to putting my thoughts down on the Todd Grant concert yesterday afternoon because I was too busy writing a feature on Low that’ll go online tomorrow morning, as well as putting together Column 17 for Thursday. Thus is life. I was also too bushed to go to Head of Femur last night (a review or impressions would be appreciated on the webboard).

That said, Sunday night’s Todd Grant show was a real treat. Grant’s band, featuring a scorching Mike Brannan on lead guitar (Who knew he was such a cocky axman? It’s been a long time since Guerilla Theater.) and hammerin’ Dan Crowell on drums was remarkable (Oh yeah, and that Tim Kasher kid who stood off to the side on bass was good, too. Something tells me he could go places). Grant looked comfortable and assured in the frontman position, and sounded like he never left the stage for all those years. A guy next to me called his music “run-of-the-mill roots rock” and maybe he was right, but for whatever reason this critic, who usually yawns at this sort of thing, loved it. It was Grant’s whole-hearted love of performing these songs that made the set endearing — you could tell that each one meant something to him, was written without thinking of style or genre or trying to make a hit. Grant writes and plays music because, well, that’s what he does. It’s been the bane and boom of his life. Vocally, he reminds me of a cross between Warren Zevon, Lou Reed and the long forgotten Gram Parker (Who owns a copy of Squeezing out Sparks? Anybody? Come on, people!). The songs ranged between quieter folky stuff with a kick to full-blown barroom rockers. The highlight was the closing number (an old Compost song, Grant told me afterward) that just blew the place up. You’ll get a chance to see Grant and his band again April 2 at O’Leaver’s.

Next up was headliner Dolorean. I had planned to take off right after the Grant set to get home and finish the Low story, but was talked into catching the front end of the singer/songwriter’s set. I’ve never heard his records before and have been told that they’re amazing. His stage show, however, was less so. Dolorean, a.k.a. Silverton, Oregon’s Jay Clarke, has a voice and style that resembles Neil Young’s quieter stuff to a fault. I couldn’t shake the comparison. And while I dig Neil Young, and liked a lot of what I heard from Dolorean, I could never get my mind off the resemblance. There has to be more to this guy than that, but I didn’t have time to discover it, heading home after the fourth song.

Tonight: Son, Ambulance, Jason Anderson (Wolf Colonel) and Mal Madrigal at Sokol Underground. Should be another good one — which would make six night’s of good shows in a row. Who needs SXSW, anyway? Show’s at 9, tickets are $7.

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Yes, I went to the Todd Grant/Dolorean show last night, but you’re going to have to wait until later today for a live review (sometime late this afternoon). Just a reminder, briefly, of tonight’s big show: Head of Femur with The Holy Ghost and The Minus Story at The Brother’s Lounge, 3812 Farnam. Show starts at 10 p.m. and is a measly $5. Will it be the show of the year? Maybe. But it’s not the only show tonight: The Hold Steady is at Sokol Underground with The Oranges Band and Ladyfinger. That one’s $8 and starts at 9. Check back here later for more.

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