There Is No Mountain (2013)

Preface: In case you forgot or you missed it, There Is No Mountain opened for Angel Olsen at Neurolux back on 4/16.  Click here for the post on that show.  Below is a review of their new album.  I meant to get this out sooner, but, well, stuff happens...

The name change made me raise an eyebrow.  "There Is No Mountain?" I thought.  "What, like the Donovan song?  What was wrong with the name 'Ascetic Junkies?'  Don't tell me they've gone all mush-brained and woo-woo."

A listen to their self-titled new album's first track, "Owl Hymn," alleviated most of my fears on that point.  Sure, its lyrics talk about sending out your blood to search the deep end and what have you.  However, between the sprightly beats, Matt Harmon's spiky, dexterous guitar and Kali Giaritta's bright, sweet, strong vocals, the song trounces Donovan's warmed-over folk-rock psychedelia quite handily.  "Well, okay," I thought then.  "If you're gonna go all New Age-y, this is a fine way to do it.  At least they still sound like the Ascetic Junkies."

The next track, "Wave of Taboo," was even more encouraging.  Over a rippling, stuttering riff, Matt Harmon croons about how the titular wave--a metaphor for all of our earthly troubles and insecurities--will not leave him be.  Not that he'll give up without a fight: "Release me, release me," he and Giaritta chant on the blithely raging chorus.  "Aha," I thought then.  "So the world is still very much with them.  Okay, that's promising."

The rest of the album makes good on that promise.  The jittery "Nail Salon" playfully conveys the hustle and bustle of daily life that such establishments are meant to relieve.  "Stories" dreams of shuffling off all the baggage that comes with this mortal coil.  The subject matter gets heavier from there, ranging from the broken glass and broken dreams of "Broken Glass" to "A Blizzard's" vision of the end of civilization.  For anyone bothered by the totemic stuff at the beginning, there's "O! Painted Hills," which casts a cold eye on both "Top 40 fossils" and religious fundamentalism.  For anyone who wants to keep their options open, there's the declaration of agnosticism in "I'm Not Convinced."  Taken as a whole, the lyrics make clear that the sweetness and light of There Is No Mountain's music represent neither pie-eyed naivete nor willful denial.   Instead, they represent a philosophical triumph.

They're a musical triumph too.  The melodies and harmonies go down so smoothly that you may not notice right away how much work has gone into these songs.  The sudden tempo shifts and swinging rhythms add some kick.  Matt Harmon's nimble fretwork makes me wonder if the man did a tour with a metal band or two.  His light vocals may seem tossed off until you realize that they hit the bulls-eye on every single note.  As for Kali Giaritta, her voice reminds me a little of the good girls in those 40's and 50's films noirs: it seems all cute and innocent at first, but then you start to notice its muscle, heat and curves.

All of these elements coalesce in the album's masterpiece, "Good News."  In all of American music, does any other song so succinctly, levelheadedly, lightheartedly and wholeheartedly embrace death, loss and the meaninglessness of existence?  If so, I haven't heard it.

The same old windy whisper that tells the fruit to fall
Has blown into my bedroom, leaving word behind: "This is all."
But when I look around, I notice I've got everything,
That there's no difference between the joy we leave with and the joy we bring.

Paired with a fully blossomed tune and as sung by Giaritta, this becomes almost as perfect in its calm beauty as John Keats's "To Autumn."  I can't imagine setting Keats to a bouncy African beat, though.  Simply put, this is one of the greatest songs I've heard in my life.  And it helps make There Is No Mountain one of the best albums that I've heard this year.

You can find info on There Is No Mountain on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Their album is available now on Bandcamp.

Os Mutantes and Capsula @ Neurolux (5/9/13)

I hadn't heard of Os Mutantes prior to this show, but some people whose musical taste I respect had.  Indeed, so intense was their excitement that I decided to look up some info on the band.  What I learned was more than enough to make me put this show on the calendar: they emerged as part of Brazil's Tropicalia movement (which I haven't heard besides Tom Ze, who's pretty cool, but have read enough about to be intrigued); they released a record on David Byrne's Luaka Bop label (which, incidentally, introduced Tom Ze to the English-speaking world); and they can count among their fans Kurt Cobain, Beck and Flea.

There were already about sixty people at Neurolux when I arrived, most of whom chose to sit out on the patio (ahh, warm weather at last).  When Os Mutantes played, I counted about a hundred.  The crowd was almost a roster of local musicians: Cameron Andreas, Josh Gross, Sam and Catherine Merrick, Louis McFarland, Ben Kirby, Amber Pollard, Jeremy Jensen, Joel Wallace, Holly Johnson, Brion Rushton, Sara Mclean (Vagerfly), Christopher Smith, Erik Butterworth and probably some other people I'm forgetting (I think I saw Andrew Bagley for a second, but I'm not 100% positive).

Argentinian rock band Capsula opened the show.  Even leaving their "Moonage Daydream" cover aside, their look (Martin Guevara's black-and-white long-sleeve shirt and mop-top haircut, Coni Lisica's silver glam jacket) and their sound (blues-based, three/four-minute bursts) screamed 60's and 70's hard rock.  As self-conscious as the whole package was, however, they still managed to break on through.  It may have helped that they hail from Buenos Aires and not, say, New York or Los Angeles; as with, say, English lads playing American blues and R&B in the 60's, their slight cultural distance could've lent a freshness to their formalism.  Or it could've just boiled down to the fact that they were really friggin' good: solid meat-and-potatoes songwriting, buoyant basslines, sturdy drums, slashing riffs and an almost painterly use of distortion.  Their good cheer and high energy (lots of jumping and gesturing and hopping down onto the dance floor) were definite pluses as well.  The crowd got their nod-and-groove on fairly quickly.  By the end of the set, the dance floor was full and bubbling with activity.

Os Mutantes played soon after.  In a way, this set reminded me of one of my favorite albums of recent years, Leonard Cohen's Live in London.  If you haven't heard it, it's a fine piece of work: Cohen and his band plow through forty years' worth of songs like a well-oiled machine, and their playfulness and casual confidence radiate good will and gratitude.  You could say all of the above about Sergio Dias and company here.  Dias may have looked a bit like Harold Bloom, but he played guitar like Hendrix or Van Halen (his voice had an impressive high end too).  His fellow musicians kept pace with him whether the songs called for folk-rock or psychedelic rock or blues or pop or Latin music or funk or disco or Indian chants.  I was already prepared to call this one of the best shows I've seen this year--and judging from all the dancing and cheering, the crowd was too--but then, just as the band finished their encore, Sara Mclean climbed onstage and whispered in Sergio Dias's ear.  After she climbed down, Dias announced that he and Esmeria Bulgari would play one final number "for a beautiful lady": "Baby," a lovely Caetano Veloso ballad that Os Mutantes played both on their 1968 debut and with English lyrics on their 1971 album Jardim Eletrico.  Simply wonderful.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Allen Ireland and Neurolux.  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 would help a lot.

The Blaqks, Super Water Sympathy, Hollow Wood and Glimpse Trio @ the Red Room (5/8/13)

This TO Entertain U show caught my interest because it featured the Blaqks, whom I'd wanted to see again for a while, and Super Water Sympathy, whose songs I'd liked quite a bit.  Also, I found the concept of Hollow Wood playing the Red Room intriguing.  Not only had their opening set for Hey Marseilles blown me away, I wondered if the band would actually fit onto that stage.

There were about twenty people at the Red Room when I arrived.  By the time that Super Water Sympathy played, the crowd had grown to about forty-five.  Very respectable for a Wednesday night.

Glimpse Trio opened the show (they really are a trio; for some reason, their bassist just wasn't there).  This Oakland group got added to the bill at the last minute.  Talk about happy accidents: between Mike Sopko's friendly bark and quick, dexterous fretwork and Hamir Atwal's fluid, rock-steady drumming, they made me think of what the Minutemen might sound like if they'd stretched out past the two/three-minute mark more often.  This applied as well to their playfully disorienting tempo shifts and touches of atonality.  A most pleasant surprise and a fine start to the evening.

Hollow Wood played next.  As it turned out, they did indeed fit on that stage and probably would've done so even if cellist Danika McClure and violinist Katelynne Jones had made the gig.  But leaving that aside, this group impressed me once again.  Their gorgeous harmonies, propulsive beats and natty arrangements showed considerable polish and assurance, but their music and stage presence still felt surprisingly fresh and free of self-consciousness.  Adam Jones's jokes and patter struck a similar balance of savvy and candor ("'Are you straight edge?'  And I said, 'I'm buying cigarettes!  What do you think?'").  Here's hoping that they can maintain that balance once they get old enough to stay in the bar after their set.  In any case, the group cast the same spell here that they did at the VaC last month; the audience stayed almost completely silent during each number and burst with applause afterwards.

Boy, you gotta love this Jimmy Valentine lighting.

Super Water Sympathy played next.  With their muscular vocals, anthemic pop-tunes and elaborate, well-honed stage show (smoke, lasers, flashing lights), I'll bet that this Shreveport group was dynamite when they played with Matt Hopper at the Knitting Factory.  By cramming everything into this more modest venue, this became one of those oh-man-you-shoulda-been-there sets.  Ansley Hughes's warm, massive voice soared above Clyde Hargrove's ringing guitar, Billy Hargrove's driving basslines, Jason Mills's airy keyboard and Ryan Robinson's smooth, intricate drumming.  At once tender and powerful.

The Blaqks closed out the night.  I still find their studiously decadent image disquieting, and part of me wonders whether their getting 86'd from the Knitting Factory as well as Jayne Black's departure might portend some ugly scenes down the road.  For the time being, however, there's simply no denying that this is a damn good band.  Danny Blaqk a.k.a. Cary Judd ably stepped into the role of frontperson while Jonny Blaqk a.k.a. Jeremy Coverdale served as the resident Keith Richards.  Their rough vocals put the smart lyrics and well-crafted tunes across winningly.  Meanwhile, the other Blaqks backed them up with snarling riffs, shrieking solos and sturdy, dance-worthy rhythms.  Their strong onstage rapport gave this performance a most welcome collegial if not familial feel.  This group may have some question marks attached to them, but they've got more than their share of exclamation points too.

You can find info on these groups and TO Entertain U on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Wes Malvini and the Red Room.  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.  Every little bit helps.

Vietnam and Gap Dream @ Neurolux (5/7/13)

I looked up some information on the band Vietnam prior to this show and grew intrigued.  Fond of the Stones and the Velvet Underground, a stint living and playing in Austin, contributions from Jenny Lewis on their self-titled album, hmm.  A quick listen to a couple of their songs stirred some reservations, but I still figured that this show would be worth seeing.

I counted about fifteen people when I first got to Neurolux.  When the show started, I counted thirty-five.  I estimated that the audience peaked at around fifty.  Pretty good.

Gap Dream opened the show.  I've groused occasionally about the plethora of 60's revivalists, imitators, etc. out there nowadays, but when a group does it right, I ain't gonna complain much.  This group did it right.  Their lean, smooth rhythm section helped keep their jangling riffs, terse solos and pleasantly plain vocals afloat.  While one song sounded like Neil Young gone surfing, another really did sound like the Velvet Underground (less "Venus In Furs," more "Foggy Notion").

Vietnam played next.  Their steady tempos, droning violin, misterioso keyboard and clanging, spidery guitars  went down quite agreeably.  The lyrics weren't bad either, from what I heard--archetypal stuff about walking with devils and such.  The only rub was Michael Gerner's grating vocals.  Hearing him on record, I get the Dylan/Reed feel he's going for.  Hearing him live, I wished he could at least hit the right wrong notes.  Still, I dug the solos and the way that their dreamy thunderousness ebbed and flowed.  The crowd seemed to also: they moved up close to the stage and cheered loudly throughout.

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.

Little Barefoot and A Sea of Glass @ the Crux (5/6/13)

A Sea of Glass had impressed me greatly when they opened for Garage Voice back in November, but I hadn't seen them since.  That gave me a good reason to check this show out.  It helped as well that I'd never seen or heard Little Barefoot before.

I counted a little over twenty people at the Crux when I arrived.  Unfortunately, Cary Judd had already played by that point.  Oh well.  I'll see his band, the Blaqks, soon enough.  Besides, I guess it's kinda refreshing to have a show start before its advertised time (the Facebook event page said 9 PM).

A Sea of Glass's set reconfirmed my good opinion of them.  Their angelic vocals, ringing keyboard, serene violin, driving drums and rubbery bass flowed together with impressive ease and assurance.  Their bittersweet lyrics and melodies and their polished arrangements would sound sharp coming from bands twice their age.  It's funny: I like to think that I pay close attention to the music scene around Boise, and it just feels like these guys popped up from out of nowhere.  Well, in any case, they're here.  And more people should know about them.

Little Barefoot closed out the night.  This Utah band's murmured vocals, soothing tunes, supple rhythm section and gliding violin sounded not dissimilar to A Sea of Glass's.  Their music had an agreeable folk/country tint, however, and their gently clanging guitar and tripped-out distortion added a touch of straight-ahead rock.  The crowd stayed in their seats for the most part but still applauded warmly enough to get an encore.

You can find info on these bands on Facebook and elsewhere online.  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.

Thrones, Cerberus Rex, Dream Hearse and Grey Cover @ the Red Room (5/3/13)

This show interested me because it had a bunch of question marks attached to it (for me, anyway).  I knew of the other bands with whom Thrones a.k.a. Joe Preston had been involved (Earth, Sunn O))), the Melvins) but had never seen him before.  I'd seen Cerberus Rex before but not since Pat Perkins had left.  Finally, this show marked the debuts of two local groups, Dream Hearse and Grey Cover.

I counted only fifteen people when I got to the Red Room.  By the time that Thrones played, that number would build to just a little under fifty (a good chunk of whom would opt to hang out on the patio).  Far less people than I'd expected, but not too bad, I guess.

Grey Cover kicked off the night.  A few days prior, I received a message from a member of this band inviting me to cover their second show.  I still get a good chuckle out of that.  Not that I don't understand first-show trepidation, but it proved unwarranted here: their sludgy dirge-beats and doomy guitar drones went over quite well.  I couldn't really tell what Arleth Medellin was saying, but she groaned with such conviction that I took it on faith that it made sense.  Meanwhile, Ian Corrigan's sharp fills darted in here and there as Ellen Rumel slashed steadfastly onward.  And actually, the songs weren't all dirgey and doomy: you could've maybe even danced to a couple of them.  If anything, this set was too short.  Oh well.  There'll be others.

Dream Hearse played next.  Given my various disparaging remarks about bands emphasizing sound over sense, I suppose that some may consider my enjoyment of this set perverse.  What did the trick for me was how this group (whose guitar player I recognized from another noise band I was fond of, Microbabies) tickled and teased the rational mind rather than pummel it into submission (cf. Wooden Indian Burial Ground).  The frequent stop-start passages, where you think the song's over NO WAIT! okay, now it's really over NO WAIT!, exemplified this trait most clearly.  Also, as this may suggest, their songs did actually show some good construction; each one had its own distinct riff, arrangement, etc.  This helped render their incomprehensibility articulate and even witty.  A very neat trick.

Cerberus Rex played next.  I never thought that I'd live to say/write that I was disappointed to hear a band's vocals better.  No dis on Josh Galloway's bellow or lyrics, both of which sounded fine; it's just that I missed hearing Pat Perkins snarl and weave.  Since this band continued to showcase one of the best guitar players in town, however, I couldn't complain too much.  Also, the reduction in sonic density allowed me to perceive better the solid craftsmanship of the songs as well as the strong rapport between Galloway's fluid basslines, Z.V. House's gargantuan riffs and raw solos and Jake Hite's tank-like drums.  A notch less roiling but still plenty powerful.

Thrones closed out the night.  I got the feeling that this guy was gonna be okay when he kicked off his set with a charmingly half-hearted merch pitch.  The rest of Joe Preston's set proved me right.  A playful, tongue-in-cheek quality pervaded his guttural vocals, grinding basslines and recordings of booming drums and whirring, whining synth.  This came through most clearly in his samples from The Exorcist and live shows ("Are you having a good time!?  Have you had enough to drink tonight!?").  Preston didn't goof around too much, however: he kept the music intricate and pulverizing enough to satisfy any metalheads in the crowd.  All in all, good fun.

You can find info on Cerberus Rex and Thrones on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Duck Club Presents.  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.

Touche and Edmond Dantes @ Neurolux (5/1/13)

Like plenty of other music-savvy folks in town (I'm guessing), I was looking forward to catching Todd Snider at the Egyptian Theatre.  When the day came around, unfortunately, I didn't think that I could afford to put down the $28 for a ticket, great American songwriter or no great American songwriter.  My spirits didn't get too low, however: the couple of songs that I'd heard by Touche and the presence of Edmond Dantes on the bill persuaded me that this Neurolux show would be a more than acceptable alternative.

I counted about twenty-five people at Neurolux around 8:40 pm.  When Touche played, I counted ten people actively listening to the music.  Not unexpected but still a raw deal for the bands.

Edmond Dantes opened the show.  Actually, it may have been just as well that not a lot of folks saw this set. A new drummer, Magnum the boombox, made his debut here, and he clearly needs a bit of work.  He had trouble with one number, jumped the gun at one point and flat-out refused to play at another.  There was a false start or three besides that.  Still, once the music did kick in, it sounded as sexy as ever.  Andrew Stensaas's croon glided over the modest crowd's heads while Ryan Peck's bass eased the bouncy beats and infectious tunes down their ears.  Also, now that I know the lyrics (I've been playing their EP Etta quite a bit), I can state with conviction that yes, "I Don't Like You" really is a great song.

Magnum needs to work on his stage presence too.  Far too undemonstrative.

Touche played next.  Near the end of their set, a gentleman at the bar shouted for them to please come back, there'd be more people next time.  Here's hoping that they take those words to heart (and that the guy gets proved right).  Alex Lilly's breathy coo, playfully enticing stage act and terse, stinging guitar fused with Bram Inscore's shimmering synth hooks, percolating beats and viscous bass.  Their hard candy tunes and slinky grooves would've been enough, but when was the last time you heard a synth-pop band name-check Donald Fagen or combine vibrators with the obsolescence of labor?  Smartly sexy and sexily smart.

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