A couple of months back I went to the Vogue to see locals C’est La Mort play their own brilliant brand of trance/shoegaze. Luckily, I went early and caught the opening band which really knocked my eardrums around.  The band was Love in the Shadows.  This three piece makes me believe that local bands can actually pay homage to English bands without sound hackneyed.  I mean just look at the slew of Seattle bands (or national acts for that matter) that water down the likes of PIL or Joy Division!  But not Love in the Shadows, they have a snake-charmer’s gaze set on beautiful, dark drones that transports us back 25 years, yet looks to the future.  Listen to the damn guitars for chrissakes!  They have so much delay and so many effects on them that they sound just like an analogue synthesizer!

After their show, one of the Love in the Shadow’s member personally handed out copies of their demo.  I got my hands on one of these handmade gems.  Included on this demo are tracks called “Pop Song” and “As It Was” which remind me a bit of the bleak, early 80’s Brit band The Sound (check out The Sound’s 1980 release Jeopardy if you want some more pre-goth drone).  But I digress.

Keep an eye out for these fellas!  Their melodies are a bit monotone and droney, so if you have a short attention span may I suggest you go out and buy a Coldplay album.  But for the rest of us who truly cherish the slow dirges of a post-goth ensemble, Love in the Shadows will be your cup of strychnine. Contact the band to get a copy of their somber 4 song demo today!

What a strange and great show. Radio Birdman has a new album. How strange is that? I mean, it’s all the rage for oldies to come out a rock, but wow! This is a band that started in 1974 and was scary and cool as all get-out. Here’s hoping they sound as good in their later years as fellow oldsters Mission of Burma.

The A Frames are a good match, but the Cops seem a bit too good natured and earnest. All the same, it should make for an exciting night of rock at a club that seems to have trouble putting together much of interest these days.

(Photos by Mindy Sisco)

Mark Heimer of No-Fi Soul Rebellion is a predator. His eyes stalk the audience behind lens-less glasses, meticulously selecting his next unsuspecting victim. What will be his weapon of choice? A sweat soaked cheek? His groin? Perhaps he’ll just unleash the full furry of his near six foot self.

When No-Fi’s set began at the Comet, August 5th, a crowd greater than or equal to the one inside began forming outside the windows trying to catch a glimpse of the madness happening behind the glass. Not to be misleading- No-Fi isn’t a traveling freak show. There aren’t accordion-toting dwarves or flame performers hanging from the rafters. However, the thrill and intrigue of a circus are there. No-Fi is just a damn good live show.

In the often too-cool climate of Seattle’s music scene, No-Fi is a breath of fresh air. No-Fi is comprised of a Mark, his wife Andrea, and a guitar that doubles as an mp3 player. They make up in showmanship what they lack in band members. In the first three minutes, Mark was standing on the half-wall that separates the show-goers from the unsuspecting passers-by seated at the bar just trying to get a drink. But just being on the other half of the divider didn’t mean you were safe. Mark can smell the fear of new audience members. Don’t know the songs? Mark will come hold your forehead together with his and belt the chorus of what is to be your latest favorite song. Too afraid to dance? That’s Mark’s cue to bring his sweet moves to you. Or next to you. Or over you. Or on you.

Judging from the Comet’s response, we were willing if not totally prepared. Before launching into “Too Mean” from their Veritable Rainbow of Songs EP, Mark said, “I want you to raise your hand if you’re a jerk. Come on people, this is Seattle! Seattle if full of jerks!” I was surprised to see a couple people initially raise their hands, but beyond shocked when more than half the audience had their hands in the air when he called out Seattlelites for being jerky.

No-Fi tried to personify their belief that “playfulness and sincerity can co-exist!” Regardless of what happened in the last 40 minutes or maybe because of it- being told to own up to character flaws or having a stranger violate acceptable standards of personal space- we all walked away feeling good about ourselves, each other, and especially about the two people who guided this journey.

This weekend is dull. After last weekend’s craziness, I guess we should expect a bit of a sleeper.

Friday, 8/11
I think I’ll see a movie, because I have no idea what show I’d want to see. I’m certain it’s because I’m out of touch with the thriving and vibrant Seattle music scene. Surely someone somewhere will be laying it on the line, singing his or her little heart out, going for broke, rocking the pants off eager audience members, etc. I just don’t know about them, and that’s my bad luck. But, come on! It’s Friday! Somebody tell me what I should see.

Saturday, 8/12
Things improve a bit on Saturday. Blue Light Curtain at the Blue Moon (fittingly enough), and despite some fairly hefty editorial conflicts of interest, I’d recommend checking them out without reservation. It’d be pretty fun to see the Hot Rollers at the Monkey Pub (by the way, nice Web site, ladies!). Neumo’s has Devotchka, and while I haven’t heard a song of theirs before, people i like like them a lot, and that’s good enough for me. South Lake Union Park has a boat load of local acts (King of Hawaii, Conrad Ford, Mon Frere, Tourist, Heather Duby, Ghost Stories, Fruit Bats, Tim Seely), and it’s free! Hard to argue with that. KNDD is having some sort of party/show that looks BORING, and I have a bone to pick with boring.

Sunday, 8/13
There’s more stuff going on at the South Lake Union Discovery Center, this time it’s some sort of KEXP function & perhaps a tad less exciting than Saturday’s event. Mars Accelerator is playing at El Corazón, which strikes me as only appropriate if it’s raining cats and dogs. The clear winner for the whole entire weekend is happening at the Funhouse. The Old Haunts! Coconut Coolouts! The Light Year (? dunno about them) and the Snake Bites! What a freaking great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

“My name is Paul and I am a metalhead.”

“Hi, Paul.”

I used to be ashamed of the fact that I appreciated the fine art of air-guitaring and/or air-drumming. Now I’m proud! DAMN PROUD! As an air-instrumentalist, no music in the history of rock and roll is better than Black Sabbath! But I’m only talking about Ozzy Osbourne-era Sabbath, my long-haired-soap-dodging comrades.

In their heyday, Ozzy and Co. played some of the heaviest dirges ever cut onto vinyl. And we should be thankful these Birmingham burnouts introduced the world to the art of heavy metal with one wasted middle finger in the air. Furthermore, it’s important to point out two things Black Sabbath did for popular music: 1) They created some of the most influential sounds making an entirely new subgenre of rock. 2) They inspired a toilet-full of shitty bands who have recorded some of the worst albums in history.

Needless to say, their music is timeless and should, nay MUST, be rediscovered every couple of years. Thank the “Lord of this world” for cover bands like Supernaughty! Why? Because, instead of listening to abysmal Sabbath influenced pap at some metal bar in Tacoma, we can just cut the crap and listen to renditions of some of the greatest hits of heavy metal played by hardcore BS devotees! If you find yourself coughing along to the opening strains of “Sweet Leaf” or believe you’ve seen fairies wear boots at least a couple of times in your life, then you really should go to the free Supernaughty show at the Funhouse tonight (August 8th). The band consists of Matt and Tim (of Yam), Mary (of Waves, Mars Accelerator, et al.) and newcomer Miranda Sky.

Supernaughty’s musicality and loyalty to the originals are astounding. At the Funhouse a couple of months back, they played the non-radio classics! No “Iron Man” or “War Pigs” just gems like “Supernaut” (of course) and the bass heavy “N.I.B.” I actually lost count of how many hardcore Sabbath fans were there playing air drums/bass/guitar or just simply yelling along to these esoteric BS classics. From Supernaughty’s opening riff I felt as though I had an invisible Gibson SG around my neck and a phantom guitar pick in hand. I knew every riff by heart and I was there to jam with Sabbath. And I know the aromatic dude standing next to me felt the same goddamn way His smoky leather jacket smelled of piss and beer, but he was right there with me—headbanging, miming out solos, and partaking in a circle jerk of heavy metal worship. The altar was the stage and the crowd was the congregation. Black Sabbath’s music was the hymn and Supernaughty was the choir. I’m not saying their performance was a religious experience, I’m just saying that by getting in touch with my metal past this band helped me become a born again headbanger.

“Whatcha gonna do?/Time’s caught up with you.”

Supernaughty will be churning out the hits tonight at the Funhouse! I’ll be there handing out the air guitar sheet music with a huge, toothy smile on my face. And since this show is free, you won’t have to sell your soul for the rock and roll!

This weekend promises a whole lot of great music.

Friday
The pick for tonight is Awesome along with Captain Bogg & Salty, Miss Mamie Lavona: the Exotic Mullata and her White Boy Band Sunset Tavern. Awesome may be a bit too Broadway for the cool kids, but they are truly Awesome. They always seem to be working on adventurous new compositions, but maybe they’ll play some golden oldies from their CD Deleware tonight.

Alternatively, you can catch the always entertaining Mark Pickerel & His Praying Hands (they lay awfully nicely, too) opening for Johnny Dowd down the street at the Tractor.

Otherwise, why not head to the Funhouse (don’t know any of the bands, but one of them is called Jesus Fucking Christ, which is kind of funny), Comet or SSMA? All venues good for serving up quality music you might not know about.

Saturday
The pick for tonight is the Headphones/Panda & Angel and S show at the Crocodile. What a great bill! well, I know nothing about the Headphones, but the other two are just fine.

Another plug got the Sunset – Boat is having their CD release. Also playing are The Salteens, Tullycraft and Voxy. I really like Boat. Not only do they put out some of the most interesting eclectic music in town, they’re swell folks to boot.

My friend Nate tells me that No-Fi Soul Rebellion is an incredible band to see live, and they’re playing at the Comet, which should be quite a treat.

Sunday
What a great Sunday for music. Not only is Kelly Clarkson gracing the stages of White River Amphitheatre, but local favorites the Riffbrokers are appearing at one of the Funhouse’s lovely matinee (4 PM) shows. What could be better than some great rock, cold beer and basketball on a Sunday afternoon?

Later that evening is your chance to catch the non-stop rock of Touchdown Eagle at Chop Suey. Word on the street is that shiny new recordings will be available at the show (and nowhere else!).

After all that you should take a deep breath, drink a cup of tea and go to sleep. You deserve it.

S will be performing in Seattle for the first time in a long time this Saturday, opening for Panda and Angel, and this is cause for no small amount of excitement. The outfit makes itself scarce, a rare quality amongst our local favorites, making its shows true events, because, well, who knows when we’ll see them up on stage again?

S is primarily Jenn Ghetto, former Carissa’s Wierd singer, with help from Josh Wackerly (also of Panda and Angel) and others. Ghetto and Wackerly are currently working on material for the group’s third album, due out in 2007. The development between the first and second albums was quite marked and it will be interesting to see what the third album will bring.

S’s first album, Sadstyle, was a remarkable release. I remember taking it home after seeing Ghetto perform the songs solo at the CD release, and, upon first listen, being very nearly angry. The quality of recording is miserable. The guitars sound like they were plugged directly into a cheap four track machine, and vocals sound like they were captured with your garden variety Radio Shack mic while sitting in a cramped closet. The songs were full of sloppy edits, tempo inconsistencies and gallons of low-grade reverb. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with any of this, but after hearing the live performance I was hoping for something more. Surely someone in a successful band like Carrisa’s Wierd would have the means to secure a slightly better kit with which to record. Then I listened again. And again. And so on for the next months, as the songs made their way under my skin and lodged themselves solidly at the front of my brain.

The songs seem to document Ghetto’s inner-world as she goes through the stuff of everyday life – the things that go right and wrong (well, mostly wrong) when you are only somewhat willing entangled in the world of other people. It’s not new territory by any means, and has made for some of the worst songs and poems of all time, but what separates Sadstyle’s songs from the maudlin emoting of emo-boys and girls is that they are not calculated or intending to impress or exact revenge. Rather it’s as if we were allowed to stumble upon the letter’s of a promising, if not great writer – informal and never intended for publication, but full of the insight and talent underlying the more public works. The songs appear to capture the precise moments of creation – the questions asked and statements made are actually being asked and made, rather than performed. And that’s what so many people got wrong about “lo-fi” in the 90s – it wasn’t about poor recording quality, rather it was about reducing the gap between the artist and recording medium.

And one should not overlook Ghetto’s guitar playing, which is as unique and inspired. She generally avoids the strummed chord stylings overused by generations of singer-song writers in favor of more complex plucked lines that provide the melody while establishing the rhythm.

The second album, Puking and Crying, upon first listen, was a delight. The sounds are clear and full while the material covers the familiar brooding territory. Subsequent listens did not reveal anything further, however. While the album is still enjoyable, the clicks du jour, computer generated tempos and crisp musical bits somehow rob the songs of their authenticity. The cleanliness of the recording comes at the expense of the spontaneity, and one can almost hear a self-consciousness absent in the earlier work. I can only hope that for the third album she either wrangles all of the production critters back into their proper cages or abandons them all together and lets her guitar, which she plays so well, and voice stand on their own.

Having said this, the fleshed out band is exciting to see. Hearing some of the older songs performed by a full band gave them entirely new life and the tension Ghetto brings to her performances is far more captivating than the white-belted acrobatics put on by your typical of-the-moment outfit. Highly recommended!

So Said They have finally released their EP!  It’s an intense 6 song release that gives the listener a teaser of their No-Wave/No-Bullspittle live act.  Dissonance and distortion dominate the instrumentation, while the vocals are yelled, howled, crooned, mumbled and vibrated in a sea of trap set acrobatics. 

“All The Rage” starts the disc out on a mid-tempo raucous.  Singer Iris Montes’ voice has been compared to Sleater-Kinney’s Corin Tucker, but ya know what? I think she’s more like a female Ian Curtis.  But maybe this is because I heard So Said They for the first time at one of their live gigs, where Montes moaned in a way not too different from our favorite Manchester epileptic. 

On the track “The Final Chapter” Keith Whiteman’s rhythm guitar sounds like a bass jumping between hypnotism and hyperactivity.  The lead guitar stabs its serrated edge between the bobbing of the rhythm guitar and kick drum, creating an almost stroke-inducing symptom when heard on headphones.  And let me add that Aaron Hoff sounds like he’s pummeling those drums like a caffeinated baboon, knocking out amphetamine rhythms with primative power.

“Tuesday at Al’s” has all the Albini ire with moments of Thurston Moore monotone in Whiteman’s voice (ah, remember when Sonic Youth put out good albums?). Phrases like “You can’t make me take the medicine when I’m outside” or “He said he takes care of an old lady” screamed out all big-n-black, are drilled into your ears while a surly guitar line drunkenly swaggers and plops down on a barstool next to a twisted keyboard part.  In other words, the MUSIC even sounds like a Tuesday night at some dive bar.  You know, a place where hacked-off, elderly barflies shout shit at each other causing the hipsters in the joint to scamper towards the exit door?  I love those kind of places!

“City of Sleep” is the first song off their EP that caught my attention.  Even though this is mostly instrumental, you can hear an incredibly beautiful, distant vocal track that’ll make you boo-hoo-hoo.  It’s that purrrrty.  It’s like a ghost shouting in a cellar, but the shrieks are muffled by a big oak door.  You have to actively filter out the sheets of guitar noise just to hear those fragile, far-away cries.

So Said They’s live performance is stronger than this EP, but that’s not a bad thing now is it?  Their sound from the amplified stage is abrasive and raw, and that’s why I like them.  Also, they pull off a great cover of Helium’s “Pat’s Trick.”  What more could you want? If you hear So Said They in a club, their music will convince you to go out and buy their album.

Their debut EP is available on their website www.sosaidthey.com or at their gigs.

Title:  EP

Label: Self-Released

AAIEEEEE…the s-s-s-sun, it burns, it burns! We in Seattle aren’t used to that large orange globe in the sky actually radiating beams through windows into our punk rock clubs. That, combined with the smoking ban, could make for a wholesome July Sunday afternoon…except for the nerve of the Funhouse to destroy our self-control with 6 buck pitchers of PBR. It made me so happy I actually went next door and got a Big Mac, because I had to, because it was either that or pass out before sundown.

Needless to say, the S-S-S-Spectres didn’t seem to care whether it was night or day. Must be ‘cus they’re from Brooklyn. I blame the glare of daylight that it took me a few songs to notice that they were all connected by a giant rope, you know, the kind you climbed to the top of the gymnasium when you were a kid. Then another few songs ‘till I noticed the 12-string guitar. OK, a friend pointed these details out to me…again, the aforementioned happy hour fun beer-time.

Back to S-S-S-Spectres. The S-S-S-Six-Finger-Satellite s-s-s-spastic tempos made me reminiscent of Providence noise-art-rock, and that’s-s-s-s a good thing…if one more person tells me they really like Death Cab for Cutie, I think I’ll puke.  S-s-s-so there.

But I digress. The point is, you should go to the Funhouse when it’s sunny out, and feel good about it, and feel good about yourself, and enjoy liking the music you like to like, and not care if maybe you should be home trimming the dandelions. If you had, you wouldn’t have found out what kind of music a band makes when they’re tied together, now would you?