Treefort 2013 Full Lineup Announcement

Here it is.  The whole enchilada.

The good people at Treefort Music Fest rolled out their complete lineup today.  Included are a bunch of newcomers, a few alumni from Treefort 2012 and a veritable crapload of excellent local acts.  Click here to see the full list of artists.  Here are some of the ones I'm excited about:

Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars--If any group deserves to be known outside of Boise, this one does.  They've got it all: great look, great sound, great songs.  Not having them play this festival would've been downright criminal.

a.k.a. Belle--I once called this group the warmest, funniest, friendliest great band in town.  I can't add much more to that.  Aside from saying (again) that Catherine Merrick is my favorite singer in Idaho.  Sam Merrick ain't too shabby on the git-tar neither.

Andy D--Dude, just watch this video and tell me you wouldn't like to see this guy live.  This'll give me a chance to partially make up for dropping the ball with last year's Evil Wine Carnival.

Brother Ali--Any guy who earns reviews like these from Robert Christgau will be worth a listen.

CAMP, Hedtriip and Meth House Party Band--Twin Falls representing.  Right on!

Eternal Fair--This Seattle trio impressed me greatly when I saw them at Grainey's Basement last April.  Crosby, Stills and Nash harmonies meets Jimi Hendrix psychedelic blues-funk-rock.  This set is gonna smoke.

The Sneezzbole--Razor-sharp musicianship yoked to some of the goofiest, funniest, funkiest material coming out of Boise today.  Gonna be wicked fun.

Rubedo--These guys killed it at their Radio Boise Tuesday gig back in October.  Good to see that they'll (most likely) be playing to a much larger crowd.

Ash Reiter--This group opened for Hospitality back in October and made quite the good impression on me.  Elegant riffs, moody melodies, Elvin Jones-worthy drumming.  I just wonder if they'll be playing as a duo or as the full five-piece.

Sun Blood Stories--This group has been kicking some serious ass since they became a quartet.  In the words of James Brown, "We're gonna have a funky good time."

K Flay--This girl's mind-bending flow and socially conscious lyrics earned her a spot on my Top 10 list for Treefort 2012.  Good to see that she's coming back.

Red Hands Black Feet--Yeah, these guys are okay, I guess.  Got some chops.  Songs are kinda long, though.  Also, why don't they get a singer?  Just kidding, of course.  If you don't know by now how much I love this band, you REALLY haven't been paying attention.

Hey V Kay--It makes me very, very happy to see this new-ish local act on the Treefort roster.  Karen Havey's sexy, haunting electro-pop is a most welcome addition to the Boise scene.

Edmond Dantes--Hey V Kay's only local competition when it comes to making sexy, haunting electro-pop.

Aaron Mark Brown--I've been wanting to see this Nampa singer-songwriter again for a while.  His performance at the Desert Noises show last August convinced me that he's a major talent.

Grandma Kelsey--In case you didn't hear, she'll be going to Kenya soon.  Show her some love now cuz man, you'll miss her when she's gone.

Y La Bamba--They've played Boise before, but I didn't see them.  Intriguing stuff, from what little I've heard.

Gregory Rawlins--Damn good songwriter.  Played Treefort last year with his band Sons of Guns.  Hope he doesn't get arrested this year.

The Gunfighters--The leader of this local group came out of a coma recently and has been recovering from brain damage.  He did well at the Crux's open mic a couple of weeks back.  Gotta respect the man for getting back in the saddle.  Best of luck to him and his bandmates.

This is just the tip of the tip of the iceberg.  Again, for the complete lineup, go to treefortmusicfest.com.  And then go buy your tickets already!

Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars, Junior Rocket Scientist and Ghost Mic @ Neurolux (2/9/13)

It's no secret how big a fan I am of Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars.  I always enjoy seeing them, but that in itself wouldn't have attracted me to this show (quite the opposite, in fact).  A couple members of the band had told me, however, that they'd had some tricks up their sleeves for this show.  I figured that that gave me reason enough to check it out.  Of course, it also helped that the bill featured Junior Rocket Scientist, whom I hadn't seen in a while, and Ghost Mic, whom I'd never written about before.

I counted only seventeen or so people when I arrived at Neurolux.  There would be over seventy, however, by the time that Junior Rocket Scientist came on.  A pretty solid Saturday night crowd.  

Ghost Mic opened the show.  This newly formed local trio had more than a few rough edges; they faced themselves more than the audience, had a couple of false starts and sounded rather stiff in general.  In spite of all this, their crude, clever, catchy songs showed tremendous promise.  They swapped instruments periodically during their brief set, but the music hit hardest when Rex Arnold's screeching guitar linked with Chris Jennings's elegantly simple basslines over Isaac Bonn's thrashing drumwork.

Junior Rocket Scientist played next.  It had been a while since I'd seen this group, but I honestly didn't remember them sounding quite so much like New Order or Joy Division (though I will note that I did compare Brian Anglin's bass work to Peter Hook's in both of my two previous write-ups).  Anyway, that's not a complaint--indeed, that kinda suggests how much I enjoyed hearing their tuneful basslines, clanging guitar drones, propulsive drums and wailed vocals again.  They may have sounded a little loose, but they plunged into the music with more than enough energy to compensate.  I just wonder how come they were only a trio this night.

Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars closed out the night.  As promised, this set did indeed feature some surprises.  In addition to bringing back the flashing colors, abstract shapes and oddball black-and-white footage that this group employed back when they were a trio, they invited Fleet Street Klezmer Band's Shlomo Kostenko onstage to play some mellow, swooning stand-up bass on a couple of numbers.  The far bigger surprises, however, were the set's preponderance of stellar new songs (they were new to me, anyway) and pure hard-rocking power.  While Mathew Vorhies's accordion and Luna Michelle's backup vocals sounded as serene and charming as ever, Storie Grubb's guitar, Dustin Jones's bass and Bruce Maurey's drums surged forward with a righteous, punk-like ferocity.  This performance earned some appropriately boisterous applause from the audience.  Honestly, I try not to write that this is one of Boise's finest bands too much (don't want the description to get redundant), but dammit, there's just no way around it.

You can find info on Junior Rocket Scientist and Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars on Facebook and elsewhere online.

New York City Queens, Fort Harrison, St. Helens and Iconoplasty @ the Shredder (2/7/13)

If you're a band from Texas, it takes some chutzpah to call yourselves something like New York City Queens.  That and a couple of songs that I'd heard by them got me interested in checking out this Shredder show.

Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to share my curiosity.  I counted five people when I got to the Shredder. That number included me, Josh Gross's ladyfriend and Bubba, the guy taking the money at the door.  When New York City Queens played, a whopping ten people saw them.  Most of them were members of the other bands.  Oh well.  Hopefully, the people who could've been here were over at Sammy's for their relaunch celebration.

Iconoplasty a.k.a. local writer/musician Josh Gross opened the night.  His stomping 4/4 beats and tapestry of  looped riffs and licks sounded as enjoyable as they did at the San Francesca show back in November.  The various elements didn't always hit exactly on the beat, but that just gave the music an agreeably human feel.

Up next was new local group St. Helens.  This trio's groove was impressively assured, especially considering that this was their second gig ever.  Gentle melodies, lovelorn lyrics and clean, soaring vocals blended with anthemic choruses, quicksilver guitar and muscular, effortlessly intricate drumming.  They had enough chops to maybe give prog a go, but their songwriting was pop-wise enough to keep things from feeling too noodling or indulgent.  The meager crowd called for an encore at the end of this set, but lead singer Mark Jensen reminded them that they were just the openers.  If they keep playing and writing at this level, however, they might not be for too long.

Local band Fort Harrison played next.  I've known of this group for a while, but this was my first time seeing them.  They made quite a first impression: gritty, raspy vocals and harshly elegant guitar fused with sly basslines and nimble, hard-hitting drums.  Their reggae groove was no less impressive than their metal barrage, and their throat-shredding shouts didn't conceal how catchy their tunes were.  They got some well-earned whoops and cheers from the audience.

New York City Queens closed out the night.  Out of the many 60's-70's appropriators that I've seen lately, this group has to be one of the shrewdest.  Their chiming, jangling, clanging, buzzing wall of guitars was equal parts Phil Spector and Sonic Youth.  Their dreamy melodies and angelic harmonies floated over it, their bass wormed under it and their drums punched right through it.  Thunderously fragile--an odd yet beguiling mix.  Even better, their lyrics held up pretty well when I listened to their recordings afterwards.  The only potential liability, recorded or live, was lead singer John Stephens's pinched, affected delivery.  Sometimes, it seemed to suit the material perfectly; at other times, it felt so smarmy that I gritted my teeth.  Regardless, I hope that this group comes back around sometime and plays to a larger audience.

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

Ken Stringfellow and Matt Hopper @ Neurolux (2/5/13)

Prior to this show, I'd never heard of Ken Stringfellow or the band that launched his career, the Posies.  I did some reading up on the man, however, and learned that he'd also played with Big Star and R.E.M.  If a guy can list bands like that on his C.V., I figured, he'll be worth a look at least.  The fact that Matt Hopper, whom I'd heard but never seen, was on the bill as well made this show even more attractive.

I only counted about twenty-three or twenty-four people when I got down to Neurolux.  That number would build to a little over forty during Matt Hopper's set.  Pretty good for a Tuesday, I guess.

Matt Hopper opened the night.  Ken Stringfellow would quip later, "Basically, Matt's a dead ringer for 1971."  He was referring to Hopper's looks (said the man looked like a cross between Big Star's bassist and producer), but he could have been talking about his music too.  With their jangling guitars, slippery basslines, smooth violin and keyboard and light, steady drumming, Hopper and company would've sounded right at home on classic rock radio next to Bob Seger and the Doobie Brothers.  Their finely polished tunes went down very smoothly.  That was the problem.  I kept waiting for the extra little spark in the music or the lyrics that would shoot the material into the realms of John Fogerty, Gram Parsons or, since Stringfellow brought up Big Star, Alex Chilton.  Since it never came, the songs just felt anonymous no matter how thickly Hopper slathered his drawl and yowl on them.  Rays of hope: their pretty sharp cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" and their closing instrumental vamp on Nirvana's "Come As You Are."

Ken Stringfellow played next.  This man's music certainly didn't want for idiosyncrasy: his songs twisted and turned and meandered well past what should have been their breaking points.  Since his melodies were so gorgeous and pop-savvy, however, they held together and pulled the audience along with them.  The words poured out of Stringfellow so quickly that I barely had time to notice how clever they were.  He probably would've gotten by on his music alone, but his friendly and irrepressibly playful stage presence made him irresistible.  He moved a mic down to the dance floor to sing among the crowd, he sang a lovely duet with Larkspur/Spondee's Gia Trotter, he teasingly tried to faze Ashley the server by barking (it didn't work) and he cracked jokes throughout ("God said, 'I'll see you in court!'  The devil said, 'Where do you think you'll find the lawyers?'").  He made at least one new fan this night.

You can find info on Matt Hopper and Ken Stringfellow on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Radio Boise.

Wovenhand, Eluder and Grandma Kelsey @ the VaC (2/2/13)

The copy on the Facebook invite for this show stated that Wovenhand's music "is an experience so visceral and so universally disorienting, [sic] that one has to take note."  If there's one thing that I've learned while writing this blog, it is never to trust a musician's ad copy.  Still, I'd never seen Wovenhand before, so I decided to check this show out.

I grew alarmed when I got to the VaC at 8 pm (the start time on the invite) and saw only ten or eleven people hanging out.  Happily, the show didn't actually start until 9, which allowed the crowd to build to about forty-five.  That was still kinda small for a Saturday night show, though (not to mention one advertised in the Boise Weekly).  Maybe the wicked fog made people wary of making the drive over.  Couldn't blame 'em for that: I could barely see more than fifteen feet in front of me on my way down.

Grandma Kelsey opened the show.  She'd had a rough day, to put it mildly: she told the crowd that she'd not only gotten dumped but gone to a close friend's funeral earlier.  If these misfortunes affected her performance, however, they just made her lean harder into her steady strumming and warm, purring vocals.  They certainly put her more touchy-feely material in a new light--it takes a certain clarity and firmness of mind to sing about the circle of life after a day like this.  In addition to playing her more familiar stuff, Kelsey Swope unveiled a moving new song about Gregory Rawlins showing her the spot where he'd scattered his son's ashes.  All in all, a wonderful performance.  I just wonder if anyone found the stuffed animal that Swope had hid somewhere in the VaC (she said she does something like that every time she plays there).

Up next was Eluder a.k.a. local musician Pat Benolkin.  Instead of delivering some smooth beats a la Lamont Kohner, Benolkin ventured out into straight-up avant-garde territory.  Waves of drones, hisses, scrapes, whirrs, crackles, clicks, rumbles and pings washed over the audience.  The mood would shift at various times from soothing to disquieting to menacing to overbearing, but a calm, meditative quality ran though the music and held it together.  Some misterioso montages (explosions, spinning planets, glowing grids and shapes, neon ovals, static, negative images of people) played in conjunction with the music.  These came courtesy of antimagic's Jason Willford.  Paired together, the music and the visuals seemed to invite the audience to sit and air out the darkest reaches of their minds.  Fascinating stuff.

Wovenhand closed out the night.  This Colorado group's brooding, twangy roots-metal sound called to mind, of all bands, Fields of the Nephilim.  David Eugene Edwards's detached moan sounded much smarter than Carl McCoy's melodramatic growl, however.  Also, Wovenhand's hypnotic guitar drones, thudding basslines and unyielding drums packed a much bigger wallop than those carpetbagging Brits could muster.  As for Edwards's rather mirthless take on Christian values, I say let the man groan about Emmanuel as much as he wants.  As long as he keeps tithing to the Church of the Almighty Riff, it's all good by me.  The crowd seemed to agree, for lo, there was much whooping and dancing and banging of the heads.  And actually, Edwards himself wasn't entirely mirthless or humorless: he thanked the crowd at one point for coming out on a Monday night.

You can find info on these acts on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Duck Club Presents.

Incan Abraham, Aan and the Oneirics @ the Red Room (2/1/13)

As frazzled as I was that night, I had fond memories of Aan's performance back in July.  Between those memories and the fact that I'd never seen either of the acts on this bill, I had enough reason to check out this show.

I counted about fifty people when I arrived at the Red Room.  By the time that Aan played, the crowd would number about seventy or seventy-five.  The crowd looked composed mainly of twenty-somethings with a few middle-aged folks here and there.  They could've been family members: Aan's Bud Wilson gave a shout-out to his parents at one point in their set.

Local group the Oneirics opened the night.  Aside from sounding a little ragged here and there, this quartet did extremely well for their first gig ever.  Clean, boyish vocals, dreamy guitar and sparkling keyboard work meshed with serene basslines and intricate, propulsive drumming.  Watch out for this group.

Aan played next.  This Portland group's music didn't sound as odd as I remembered.  It could have been because I wasn't nearly as sun-fried as I was back in July.  It could also have been because, in the months between that show and this one, I've heard quite a few bands who go for a somewhat similar sound.  In any case, their pretty melodies, waves of synth, droning guitar riffs and smoothly angular drumwork still sounded plenty quirky.  They may have been even more pleasurable too.

Incan Abraham closed out the night.  Remember what I wrote earlier about hearing bands who kinda sound like Aan?  This Los Angeles band was a case in point.  However, their light, wailed vocals, their poppy melodies, their dreamy synth waves and their rumbling, pseudo-African beats created a moodier and more ethereal sound that Aan's.  That helped differentiate them enough to make this set enjoyable in its own right.  The crowd seemed to thin out slightly, but plenty of people stayed to dance and cheer.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Duck Club Presents.

The Toasters, Mrs. Skannotto, the Useless and the Jerkwadz @ the Shredder (1/31/13)

This was a big one for me.  The Toasters helped bring ska from the U.K. to the U.S. back in the 80's.  Their leader and founder, Robert "Bucket" Hingley, also formed Moon Ska Records, which is reportedly the biggest independent label devoted to ska in this country.  They've played Boise quite a few times, but I'd never gotten the chance to see them until this night.

I counted about thirty-five people when I got down to the Shredder.  The crowd grew to about forty-five or fifty as the night progressed.  Modest but respectable.

The Jerkwadz opened the show.  Their tunes sounded as tough and supremely catchy as always, and Jimmy Sinn's buzzing guitar and casually muscular vocals both sounded in good form.  However, a certain awkwardness held the music back.  Sinn's guitar, Cacie Lee's stolid bass and J.R.'s quick-stepping drums didn't quite mesh the way that they should have, which made everything feel just a little bit off.  The problem could have stemmed from a lack of rehearsal time: Sinn told the crowd that they'd only practiced with J.R. three times in six months.  Still, the songs got over because they're that friggin' good.

Up next was the Useless, who played with only two horn men this night (Jason Rucker said that he had no idea where the hell the third guy was).  Regardless, the band members who did show up sounded just fine.  Rucker's friendly bark and ripping guitar grooved seamlessly with his bandmates' rubbery bass, slamming drums and woozy brass.  A sizable chunk of the audience moshed, danced and stage-hopped.  Banter-wise, an especially nice touch was when Rucker dedicated the love song "Taco Truck Girl" to Shane and Miranda Brown, who were outside hard at work in P. Ditty's Wrap Wagon.

Mrs. Skannotto, a six-man unit from Rochester, NY, played next.  It took the crowd a little while to warm to this group's mix of brawny vocals, soaring horns, warped guitar, coursing basslines and lithe, muscular drumming.  However, once they downshifted from some anthemic, 90's hardcore-tinged material to some smooth reggae grooves, people started to move.  By the time that they revved back up with some manic ska, the joint was jumping.  Damn good stuff.  It was a little odd, though, seeing a guy and gal swing-dancing to "Girlfriend," a rowdy yet slinky number about stalking an ex.

The Toasters closed out the night.  Damn near everyone in the crowd danced during this set and rightly so.  "Bucket" Bingley's rough, charming croon and sharp guitar blended with Logan LaBarbera and "Lonestar" Johnson's jazzy horns, "Westbound" Merritt's rippling bass and Jesse Hayes's unstoppable one-two beat.  Songs like "2Tone Army," "Run Rudy Run," "Weekend in L.A.," "History Book" and "Don't Let the Bastards Grind You Down" were as bouncy and irresistible as anything this side of Desmond Dekker.  Their warmth and good humor were reflected in Bingley's jokes and banter with the audience (I wonder, did he get a picture of the barefootin' girl's feet like he said he would?).  Simply wonderful.

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