Nick Jaina, Manzanita Falls and Starlings Murmurations @ Neurolux (4/30/13)

This Radio Boise Tuesday had pretty much everything I could want.  It had a Treefort act I'd missed (Nick Jaina), it had a band I'd never seen before (Manzanita Falls) and it had a local act I'd recently become smitten with (Starlings Murmurations).  It didn't take me long, then, to mark this show down on the calendar.

Not many others did.  I counted about fifteen people when I got down to Neurolux.  The crowd would peak at around thirty over the course of the night.  So it goes.

Starlings Murmurations opened the show.  Although I wished that she could've played more songs (especially the one about John Keats), I liked Kristy Scott's set here as much as her set at the Crux if not more.  The extra breathing room that Neurolux afforded her bright, chugging guitar helped, as did the extra little oomph that she put into her singing.  As becoming as I found her increased forcefulness, however, what struck me most was the Robert Bresson-like restraint of Scott's music.  Her lyrics convey enormous feeling by trying to hold feelings at bay ("Well, they say you've lost your mind./ I guess I'm pretty sure they're right this time.").  Her melodies have a certain spare beauty; they're like the trees you see around town when the leaves are just starting to bud.  Her clear, high vocals show such careful poise that every ache and flutter resonates more than most other singers' flights up and down the scales.

It's amazing: I've only seen her twice, and Starlings Murmurations is already one of my favorite acts in town.

Manzanita Falls played next.  This Santa Rosa band cites Wilco and the National as influences on their Facebook page, and you could definitely hear traces of those groups in their yearning, folk-ish tunes, lithely steady drumbeats, rumbling bass and chiming, twangy guitar.  However, they had a bite all their own thanks to Jeremy Mccarten's gently tough-minded vocals and no-bullsh*t lyrics ("Talk is cheap and you're wasting my time./ You're a one-trick pony with a one-track mind.").  Most welcome as well were Stuart Markham's stinging solos.

Portland musician Nick Jaina closed out the night.  The sweetness of his tunes, the tenderness of his breathy croon and the spikiness of his lyrics ("I've been losing sleep over goddamn expense reports...") balanced each other out quite nicely: while the former two helped the latter go down, the latter helped keep the former two from turning insipid.  Both ends met the middle in Jaina's sharp, fluid guitar work.  Throughout, Jaina received sensitive support from Thomas Paul's bass and Louis McFarland's drums.  Indeed, the rapport between the three musicians was so strong that I'd have thought that they'd played together for years if I didn't know better (and actually, I don't know better).  The modest crowd gave this set some well-deserved applause.

You can find info on these acts on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Radio Boise.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep it going, click the yellow "Give" button and donate whatever you can.  Even $5 can go a long way.

Hey Marseilles and Hollow Wood @ the VaC (4/13/13)

I didn't get to see Hollow Wood at Treefort, but their opening set for What Made Milwaukee Famous had impressed me very much, so I was eager to check them out again.  Also, I liked the handful of Hey Marseilles songs that I listened to, so I marked this show down on the calendar.

I counted about seventy-five people when I arrived at the VaC.  During Hey Marseilles's set, I counted over a hundred.  The crowd seemed split evenly between twenty/thirty-somethings and forty/fifty-somethings.  I'd hazard a guess that most of the former were there for Hollow Wood while most of the latter were there for Hey Marseilles.  In any case, it was nice to see so many folks staying out late.

Hollow Wood opened the show.  When I step back and think about this group, they puzzle me.  Why should I like them so much when I have so little patience or regard for Typhoon, Bon Iver, the Last Bison and their ilk?  After all, they clearly draw from the same synthetic folk well.  It might be hometown chauvinism, but I don't think so.  Maybe they just do it right.

Not only will their melodies and harmonies bring tears to your eyes, their intricate, infectious beats dare you not to dance.  The polish and assurance of their songwriting and arrangements would be impressive coming from musicians twice their age.  Their friendly, all-embracing, high-energy stage presence kicks any hint of false gentility to the curb.  While Adam Jones--with his gravity-defying hair, manic strumming and goofy banter--is the clear focal point onstage, each band member feels like a vital part of the whole.  Sure, the vocals and the lyrics get a little corny, but so what?  People like corny.  I like corny (sometimes).

I try not to make predictions.  Still, when I think about this set--how the music ebbed and flowed, how a hush fell over the crowd just seconds into the first song, how people got up and moved forward right when Adam Jones invited them to, how Brian Bays from the Deadlight Effect came up to me afterwards completely blown away--I can imagine Hollow Wood playing to larger audiences in larger venues.  I can imagine them becoming one of the groups that people talk about when they talk about Idaho.

Hey Marseilles closed out the night.  This Seattle septet kinda came off as Hollow Wood's older, more settled-down brother.  Their steady waltzes, bright guitar, tinkling keyboard, comforting cello and violin and gentle tenor vocals called to mind Automatic For the People-era R.E.M.  Between their music, their clean-cut look and their discreet, polite stage presence, I could imagine these guys being in a spunky little power-pop band back in their college days before settling down to a life of mortgages, NPR, 2.3 kids and a couple glasses of wine on the weekends.  They still had some fire in the belly, though: their keyboard/accordion player climbed onto a speaker during their rousing closer, and the second song of their encore featured some rumbling drums and a nice rocking riff.  Not bad at all.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Sam Stimpert and the Visual Arts Collective.  If you like what you've read and would like to help keep it going, please click the "Give" button in the upper right-hand corner and donate whatever you can.  Even $5 can go a long way.

Evil Wine Season 2 Premiere @ the Red Room (7/16/12)

Although I might not have written about it here, I'd have gone to this even if there wasn't any live music.  For one thing, I dig The Evil Wine Show--if you're down with absurdist, satirical raunch, you can't do better around these parts.  For another thing, this show doubled as a birthday celebration for Wes Malvini, one of the two deviants behind Evil Wine (the other being Dustin Jones) and the man in charge of booking at the Red Room.  Wes does a good job on both fronts and is a decent guy besides, so I wanted to show my support.

Happily, a lot of other folks apparently felt the same way.  According to the Boise Weekly, about 100 people showed up to this shindig.  You can read the article that I linked to for details on the episode; I'll just stick to the music.  Actually, before I begin, I have to share this video, which appeared in the episode.  It'll give those unfamiliar with Evil Wine an idea of what to expect.

Watched it?  Good.  Don't worry, the scars won't be that bad.  Moving right along...

Opening the evening was Oakland-based musician Flip Cassidy.  Even if he hadn't opened with "Tango Til They're Sore" from Rain Dogs, I'd have guessed that this dude has listened long and hard to his Tom Waits records.  Cassidy joyously belted his blues/murder ballad/gospel-based original songs in a friendly, phlegmy voice.  The clanging tone of his energetically strummed guitar evoked a merry jaunt through a scrapyard.  Damn good fun.

After Flip Cassidy came the San Francisco-based folk-rock band Dum Spiro Spero.  Their Celtic-flavored music had a strong beat and sustained the irreverent tone established by Flip Cassidy's set.  Driving guitar and banjo joined with haunting fiddle, solemn accordion and agreeably straightforward vocals.  In a way, it was too bad that this group played so early in the evening: a lot more folks would have probably danced if they'd had more time to drink.

After Dum Spiro Spero finished their set, the first episode of Evil Wine Season 2 premiered. After that, local one-man act The Sneezz kicked off the after-party.  His performance this night was a bit more relaxed than the one that I caught back in May but no less enjoyable.  His mind-boggling bass playing channeled Les Claypool, and his drum tracks got the people dancing.

Cerberus Rex played next and delivered a solid, ear-and-shin-vibrating set.  Drummer Jake Hite was in particularly good form, and Z.V. House's raw, kick-out-the-jams solos complemented Pat Perkins's cooler, more contained guitar work.  Listening to this band a second time, I found something downright cathartic about their music.  It seemed designed to shoot straight into the id and blast out any dark desires lurking within.  In that way, it tied in nicely with The Evil Wine Show's m.o. and provided the perfect ending to the night.

You can look up info on these bands on Facebook and elsewhere online.  For episodes of The Evil Wine Show and more, go to www.evilwine.com.

Dear Rabbit, With Child and Bonefish Sam @ the Red Room (7/3/12)

I had no illusions: THE show of this evening was gonna be Radio Boise's Youth Lagoon concert at the Reef.  Not only was the most popular group from Boise (aside from Built to Spill, maybe) headlining, they would be supported by Mozam, whose recent set at the Flying M impressed me greatly, and Teens, a local punk group who's been generating one hell of a buzz around town (their Treefort set was reportedly the stuff of legend).  In spite of all this, I opted to check out the Red Room's Atypical Tuesday because 1) aside from Grandma Kelsey, its bill was comprised entirely of acts I hadn't seen or written about before, 2) I worried that no one else would show up, and 3) ... Well, let me just put it this way: if you love Youth Lagoon, God bless you--clearly, you hear something that I can't.

Happily, my concerns about poor attendance for the Red Room's show proved unfounded.  Not only that, the crowd seemed genuinely receptive to the music as well.  Unfortunately, circumstances prevented me from arriving in time to catch Grandma Kelsey's set.  I'm sure that I'll write about her another time.

First up this night was Dear Rabbit a.k.a. Colorado-based musician Rence Liam, whose cabaret/gypsy-folk-infused music, broad singing and guilefully guileless stage act was one part Tom Waits and one part Jonathan Richman.  He worked hard to make it look like he didn't know what he was doing: he swigged beer (if that's what it was) periodically and dropped banter like "I don't have a title for this song yet.  I don't sing it often, so I probably forgot it."  However, his funny, well-crafted songs, his skillful looping and his ability to play the trumpet and the accordion at the same time gave the lie to that.

Next up was With Child a.k.a. Nampa-based musician Elijah Jensen.  If Dear Rabbit drew upon Jonathan Richman's chutzpah, With Child's serenely urgent, endearingly straightforward tunes drew upon his disarming melodiousness.  Jensen's steady picking and strumming kept the songs moving along nicely, and the moments when his singing didn't quite hit the right notes only added to the brief set's general feeling of unguarded lyricism.

Local experimental musician Bonefish Sam closed out the night's show with the help of Elijah Jensen on guitar and synth and The Very Most's Jeremy Jensen on bass.  I heard quite a bit in this tuneful, spacey, polyrhytmic, politely funky music--some African music and early 70's Miles Davis fusion here, some dub and trip-hop there.  Bonefish Sam squeezed all manner of wonderful noises out of his electronics set-up.  Jeremy Jensen's warm, liquid bass runs showed that, should The Very Most ever break up (God forbid), he could maybe pick up a gig subbing for Fernando Saunders in Lou Reed's band.  Elijah Jensen's clean electric guitar fills and synth parts gave the music some extra bite.  I only wish that I could've picked up a CD or something.  It might've made a fine companion piece to In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew.

You can find info about all these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  For info on upcoming Atypical Tuesdays and more, you can look up The Evil Wine Show on Facebook or go to www.evilwine.com.

Sunken Houses by The Mighty Sequoyah (2012)

Three lines near the end of Sunken Houses point towards the secret of The Mighty Sequoyah's success:

There is no end to time.
The sun will always shine.
Even if fire destroys the copper mine, we'll be fine.

This is the refrain of "Copper Mine," the album's second-to-last song.  These words--grounded, homely yet transcendent--bespeak a spiritual strength and maturity that pervade the entire album.  These qualities help make Sunken Houses such a fine listen.

Without them, The Mighty Sequoyah's elegiac melodies, celestial harmonies and lovelorn lyrics might sound quaint or insipid.  As it stands, however, this Provo, Utah group's brand of folk-rock bares very little trace of gentility.  Rather than the chamber or the parlor, their music conjures up images of wide-open spaces, deep woods and clear streams.  This is stuff that you can reread Leaves of Grass to.

The band shores up the melodies with warm, clean guitar and fiddle and a muscular rhythm section.  The harmonies evoke a church choir at some moments and a protest rally at others, and the album's clear, spacious production gives the music plenty of room to breathe.  What really puts Sunken Houses over the top, however, is the lyrics' intimations of struggle, suffering and impermanence.  "Stuck beside the river's edge./ None of us will get revenge," the band sings on the lead track, "Medicine Man," while they warn in the title track's chorus, "Nothing in this world can be only/ What on Earth it might appear to be."  These dark undertones add depth and weight to the sweet yearning of such songs as "Porcelain," "Call Me Home" and "Enchanters."

In the end, Sunken Houses reminds me of Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey" or "Intimations of Immortality."  This is especially true of the song "Home," about a man mired in big-city oppression who yearns to return to the openness of nature and childhood ("I remember lying in tall grass,/ telling secrets on our backs./ I shared everything I ever had.").  In the album's cumulative effect, The Mighty Sequoyah seem to reach the same conclusion that the great Romantic poet does:

We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind,
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be,
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

You can find info about The Mighty Sequoyah on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Sunken Houses is available for download on Bandcamp.