JJAMZ, Superhumanoids, Red Hands Black Feet and Kristopher Rabbit @ the Venue; Amy Bleu @ Grainey's Basement (9/9/12)

I've never made any secret about how much I love Red Hands Black Feet, but what really attracted me to this show was JJAMZ.  I'd dug what I'd heard from lead singer Z. Berg's previous band, the retro-60's outfit the Like, so I was curious to see what this project was all about.

Regrettably, not many others felt the same way.  This show might have suffered from the Lightning Bolt show at the Shredder and the simple bad luck of taking place on a Sunday.  I counted about twenty-five people there at its peak, including me and a few members of the bands.  So it goes.

First up this night was local group Kristopher Rabbit, whose industrial riffs and beats, tortured lyrics and angsty vocals owed a clear debt to groups like Nine Inch Nails.  These guys looked awfully nervous--I overheard one of them say afterward that they'd only rehearsed a week--but their songwriting definitely showed promise.  If I may be so bold, though, I would offer a piece of advice: it's usually good for frontmen face the front of the stage.

Red Hands Black Feet played next.  The modest crowd grooved out to the blending and weaving guitars, the surging basslines and the ever-more-supple drumming.  Their growing confidence and finesse gave the songs extra power and lyricism.  Another excellent performance.  Yawn.  (Just kidding.)

After Red Hands Black Feet came the Los Angeles-based band Superhumanoids.  Their Facebook page says some stuff about how they employ "summery '60s harmonies" and "the adventurous dissonance of '90s indie-rock," but what I heard was straight-up '80s: some Echo and the Bunnymen, some Kraftwerk, some Georgio Moroder, some Miami Vice soundtrack.  Murmured and cooed vocals, catchy tunes, glinting guitar, smoothly funky rhythms, multicolored synth hooks.  Their luded-out "I Wanna Be Sedated" cover spoke volumes for their brains, good taste and sense of humor.

Last up was JJAMZ.  This group owed a VERY clear debt to Blondie, and I'm not saying that just because Z. Berg was almost a dead ringer for Debbie Harry with her gorgeous cheekbones, breathy/growly delivery and coyly provocative stage act.  This wasn't some cosmetic job, though.  Their bouncy tunes, chiming guitar interplay, charming synth and tough, slinky, swinging rhythm section struck a nice balance between "Heart of Glass" and "One Way Or Another."  Premium grade pop-rock.  It's just a pity that more people weren't there: when/if this group comes back around, everybody else may have to pay double or triple what I did.  So it goes.

I stopped by Grainey's Basement after JJAMZ wrapped up in hopes of catching the set by local experimental duo the Finer Points of Sadism.  Unfortunately, I had to leave before they played (I started my new day job at 7 am the next morning), but I did get to catch some of the set by Portland-based songwriter Amy Bleu.  Her sly quaver, sweet folk melodies and twisted lyrics provided just the right coda to my night.  Highlights included "A Young Man Going to the Movies," a nice little original ditty about a guy who beats to death a couple of jackers (true story, she said), and a brilliant cover of Alice Cooper's "Poison."

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

Peter Murphy, Ours and Michael Shapiro @ the Knitting Factory (8/12/12)

I saw Peter Murphy down in L.A. last December, and it was one of the greatest shows I've ever seen.  Between the three solid acts (Murphy, She Wants Revenge and an up-and-coming New York band called Hussle Club) and the stellar between-set mix (Iggy, X, Tones on Tail, etc), I got almost four hours of awesome music.  Murphy himself was downright magnificent: he caressed the ballads, scorched the rockers, tore the strings out of his guitar on "Stigmata Martyr," twirled, glided, playfully teased the audience, invited a teenage fan onstage and sang a tune with his arm around the blushing lad's shoulder.

So when I saw that he'd be playing Boise, it was a foregone conclusion.  I would go see him, period.

Unfortunately, not many others felt the same way.  Attendance was disgustly dismal for an artist and performer of this caliber.  Especially disappointing was the fact that I saw almost none of the local Goths in the meager crowd.  I've got love in my heart for the Goth community here in town, but it made me sick that almost no one besides DJ Bones bothered to come out for the man who wrote "Bela Lugosi's Dead."

First up was Michael Shapiro, the frontman from the San Francisco band Reckless in Vegas.  He got the evening off to a good start with plenty of friendly, self-deprecating stage banter and some catchy, smartly crafted tunes.  The songs would've sounded more complete with a full band (duh), but they held up fine with only Shapiro's guitar and rich, dramatic baritione for support.  A highlight of his set were a pair of songs written soon after his breakup with his fiancee four months ago.  One honored their love while the other flipped her the bird.  The latter seemed to go over just a little better with the crowd.

The New York City band Ours took the stage after Michael Shapiro.  With their all-black attire, chiming riffs, vrooming bass, mournful keyboard parts, danceable beat and tortured lyrics, this group could've sprung fully formed from Peter Murphy's head.  However, the solid craftsmanship of their songs enabled them to bear the weight of their audible influences (Bauhaus, Siouxie and the Banshees, the Cult, etc.).  As did their indomitable drummer, sharp guitar solos and charismatic frontman.

After Ours came Peter Murphy, whose set disappointed me like no other set has so far this year.  It wasn't flat-out awful, but it did suffer from some serious detractors.  Chief among them was that Murphy was clearly sick: he kept chugging water and blowing his nose between songs, and a very audible frog in his throat crippled his singing.  Occasional feedback from his mic and a couple of drunken hecklers didn't help matters either.  Still, the three backup musicians were definitely on their game, and Murphy retained enough of his stunning voice to nail a couple of ballads and work through the rockers that dominated his set.  Also, aside from those drunken dickheads, the modest audience gave the man a suitably warm reception.  Like I said: not bad, but severely disappointing.

The most heartbreaking moment of the night came after Murphy left the stage.  The crowd clapped and hollered and waited for an encore that clearly wouldn't come.  That didn't surprise me, given the sub-par condition of Murphy's voice, but it made me feel bad for everyone else.  Especially considering that I got two encores down in L.A..

My night did have a nice, restorative coda, however.  I stopped by Grainey's Basement after the Knitting Factory show and caught part of the set by the awesomely-named AlcoJuana, a punk/ska trio from WA.  These dudes were just straight-up raucous, trashy fun.  I stood outside the concert bunker and watched the Rainier-fueled crowd playfully mosh and stomp around.  Like Calvin and Hobbes said, "There's treasure everywhere!"

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

Jac Sound, Bridgeport and Technicolor Hearts @ Grainey's Basement (7/26/12)

Part of me really wanted to see Crispin Glover at the Egyptian Theatre this night, but unfortunately, I couldn't justify spending the money for the tickets at this time (yay unemployment).  I couldn't get too down in the dumps, though.  One great thing about Boise nowadays: it's not wanting for cost-effective entertainment options.

A considerable number of folks came down to Grainey's Basement this night.  Most of them didn't stay for all the music (organized by Keesha Renna's Vagabond Promotions), but happily, they stayed for most of it.  The ratio of four or five girls to one guy didn't bother me at all either.

First up this night was local musician Jac Sound.  I've always liked this guy: he's got perfect pitch, a good sense of rhythm and a great sense of humor.  I can't think of anyone else around Boise who could cover "Gangsta's Paradise" by Coolio and "All That She Wants" by Ace of Base in the same set and make them feel of a piece.  His originals aren't too shabby either.  He writes smart lyrics and unfailingly catchy tunes (though he may borrow from others sometimes--coulda sworn that he lifted the riff from Pink Floyd's "Money" for this one song).  His pleasant high tenor and his guitar/kick drum/hi-hat playing were in good form this night, and his overwhelmingly female audience applauded warmly.  I clapped but let the ladies do the cheering--figured that'd give the man a nice little ego boost.

After Jac Sound came Stephen Palin a.k.a. Bridgeport, whom Keesha Renna had shrewdly asked to play a set after a scheduling conflict prevented a touring group from appearing.  Palin did a good job, considering that he got this gig at the very last minute.  His gentle, charming folk-pop tunes provided an excellent transition from Jac Sound's more rocking material.  His brief set included a medley of Miley Cyrus's "Party In the U.S.A." and Blink-182's "What's My Age Again?", the latter of which went over very well indeed with the audience.

Austin-based art-pop duo Technicolor Hearts closed out the night's music.  Their thirty-minute set took a while to get started due to some technical difficulties, but it proved worth the wait.  Naomi Cherie's murmured vocals, solemn violin and skillful looping joined with Joseph Salazar's quietly arresting rhythm tracks and garage-y guitar to create truly dreamlike music.  Their twirling light show added further to the waking-dream feel of their performance.  It's too bad that more people didn't stay to watch this group.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  You can contact Vagabond Promotions at 1 (208) 283-0259 and Whatvagabond@hotmail.com.

Like A Rocket, Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil and Parade of Bad Guys @ Grainey's Basement (7/5/12)

From what I gather, there was some good music getting played around town this First Thursday (congratulations to ORRiginal Promotions for their Red Room show).  I opted to check out this show at Grainey's Basement, which was set up by Keesha Renna's Vagabond Promotions and which featured Like A Rocket and mega-hard-rockin' blues duo Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil.

Quite a few people came down to Tom Grainey's, but most of them chose to hang out on the patio.  I can't honestly fault them for that: it got pretty friggin' warm in there.  Hopefully, some of the music travelled upstairs.

Like A Rocket started off the evening with a typically strong performance.  Speedy Gray's voice and guitar sounded in particularly good form, Max Klymenko kept the songs grooving along and Z.V. House got to show off his skills a little by playing and tuning at the same time.  Their set this night was composed entirely of newer material--even played a couple of songs that even I hadn't heard before.  Hopefully, they'll include some of this material on their upcoming album.

Next up was Portland-based Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil, who likewise turned in their typical raucous set.  At one point, Hopeless Jack quipped that he'd lost half his body weight when they played in Bend, OR the night before.  They probably lost a few pounds this night too: by the end, both halves of this team were thoroughly drenched in sweat.  It was good to see some folks venture downstairs to check these guys out.

HJ and drummer Smilin' Pete gave a couple of shout-outs to Parade of Bad Guys during their set.  I thought that right commendable, though it would've been nice if they'd thanked Like A Rocket also.  They may have just been too preoccupied.  In any case, I had to give them bonus points for covering one of my favorite blues songs (with a little rewriting), Robert Nighthawk's "Sweet Black Angel."

Local group Parade of Bad Guys closed out the night.  There set wasn't as intense or galvanizing as the other two bands', but that was probably for the best: it gave the audience a chance to mellow out a bit.  Which isn't to say that it didn't get them dancing and cheering too.  They delivered excellent guitar solos and a good groove throughout, and they did a decent cover of one of the greatest songs in the history of mankind: The Faces' "Ooh La La."  Part of me wonders if they got that song from Ooh La La or from Rushmore, but that doesn't really matter.  If any local group has the right to cover The Faces, this one does.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  And for any touring bands looking to book shows around Boise, you can contact Vagabond Promotions via Facebook, email Whatvagabond@hotmail.com or call 1 (208) 283-0259.

Naomi Psalm and the Blue Cinema, Tacos!, Junior Rocket Scientist, An Airbag Saved My Life and The Violet Lights @ Tom Grainey's (6/24/12)

This post is something of a landmark: it's my 50th in the three-month history of this blog.  That's far more than I'd initially planned on writing when I started back in March (within this timeframe, anyway).  I've written this quite a few times, but it bears repeating: thank you so much to everyone out there who's reading HCTD.  Thank you as well to all of the bands and musicians that I've seen so far.  Even if I didn't like your music, I applaud your efforts to create something and recognize the guts that it takes to get up on a stage for anyone to see and hear.  "Great or small, you furnish your parts towards the soul."

This show would've attracted my interest from its size alone.  Six bands in one night: three on the main stage, three down in the Basement.  Not only that, among these six bands was The Violet Lights, a Los Angeles-based garage/new wave duo who played the Red Room this past winter.  I saw them, liked their music and have been keeping tabs on them since then.  Also, I recently had the chance to meet Travis and Jenn of ORRiginal Promotions, who set this show up.  They struck me as good people and passionate about the local music scene, so I wanted to give them a little support.

Contrary to what some of my photos may suggest, a substantial group of people came down to Tom Grainey's this night (if you sell Rainier for 50 cents a can, they will come).  However, most of them opted to hang out on the patio.  I can't blame them for that: it was pretty warm inside and lovely outside.  Hopefully, those folks got to overhear some of the music.

Starting off the night's music was Naomi Psalm and the Blue Cinema, a local singer/songwriter and her backing band.  Andrew Crisp of the Boise Weekly likened Naomi Psalm to Sarah Mclachlan, and that possible comparison occurred to me too (Psalm lists her as an influence on her Facebook page as well).  However, her thoughtful, sometimes playful lyrics and well-groomed folk-pop melodies reminded me more of Jonatha Brooke (if you don't know her, check her out; done some pretty good stuff).  Her mild, pleasant, acoustic guitar-centered music would sound right at home on an adult contemporary station between Natalie Merchant (another influence her FB page cites) and KT Tunstall, but she had one heck of a secret weapon in Rob Hill's fluid, funky bass.  Between songs, Psalm engaged in some friendly stage banter and cracked a charmingly bad joke.  A good start to the evening.

After Naomi Psalm finished her set, I headed downstairs and caught most of the set by Tacos!, a stoner-metal duo from Seattle (that's the location listed on their Bandcamp page, anyway).  Donovan Stewart's screamo vocals and Sabbath-esque riffs and Lupe Flores's thrashing, stomping drums were respectably brutal but somehow not as intimidating as other examples of their kind that I've heard.  Maybe that's why I liked them.

I headed back upstairs after Tacos! wrapped up and watched local indie-rock group Junior Rocket Scientist, who were much more on their game than they were when I saw them at the Red Room last month.  The dominating presence of Brian Anglin's Peter Hook-y bass in the mix underlined its function as the glue that holds together the harsh, Pixies-ish guitars, catchy tunes, synth hooks and propulsive drumming.  I couldn't really hear the lyrics, but the music sounded so good that that didn't bother me too much.

After Junior Rocket Scientist, I went back downstairs to check out the Oklahoma City-based rock group An Airbag Saved My Life.  Take your band name from a Radiohead song and you'll instantly raise a red flag with me.  But hey, what the heck, I'll try anything once.  And in the case of this group, I'll be more than happy to try them two or three more times.  Between their fog machine, their hallucinatory recordings and guitar sounds and their ultra-syncopated, jaw-droppingly powerful drumming, this group would have made the show worthwhile all by themselves.  Standing inside the small concert space in Grainey's Basement, AASML's massive sound enveloped me and the other ten or so people there to hear it.  Dissonant but tuneful, moody but hard-rocking.  Stunning.

The Violet Lights were up next on the main stage.  Their set had a couple of missteps and technical difficulties, and their recorded bass, guitar and drum tracks sounded too quiet.  But those aren't reasons to shoot a group down, especially one that makes music so tough, clever, catchy and danceable.  Their songs had at least two or three hooks apiece and hid just the right amount of dirt under their well-manicured nails.  Joel Nass worked the aching yowl in his voice for all that it was worth and carved out some sharp riffs on his electric and acoustic guitars.  Meanwhile, Amber Garvey complemented her partner effectively with her low, breathy singing, cool demeanor and concise keyboard parts.  I hope that The Violet Lights come around again sometime.  And get the chance to turn up the volume a little.

One more word about those technical difficulties.  A few songs into the set, Joel Nass's mic went out.  The sound man fixed it quickly, though, and the incident did create this little Kodak moment:

Now if only my phone's camera didn't suck.

Unfortunately, I missed the sixth band of the night, whose set had already wrapped by the time that The Violet Lights finished.  Apologies to Icarus the Owl.

You can find info about all of these groups on Facebook or elsewhere online.  Also, for any touring bands out there, you can look up ORRiginal Promotions on FB and contact them at info@ORRiginalpromotions.com.

Uintahs, The Green Zoo and The Mighty Sequoyah @ Grainey's Basement (5/29/12)

I felt a little guilty about going to see this show.  I'd spoken with Josh Gross a week or so before and told him that I'd planned on seeing Godcrotch play the Red Room this same night.  And that had been true, but then I saw that my friend Keesha Renna's Vagabond Promotions had set up a show at Grainey's Basement featuring three bands I hadn't seen before.  Sorry, man.  See you another time for sure.

This looked like a promising bill: three local bands, two of which I hadn't seen before, and an excellent folk(ish) rock group from Utah.  A decent crowd had built up by the time that the first band took the stage, and it only grew as the evening progressed.  That made me happy for the bands and especially for Keesha: for as long as I've known her, she's been an enthusiastic supporter not just of the local music scene but of the Boise community as a whole.  Her hard work and dedication seems to be paying off, and deservedly so.  From what she's told me, Vagabond Promotions has some good shows set up in the upcoming months.  I expect that you'll be reading about a few of them here.

First up this night was Uintahs, a moody, tuneful four-man rock band based here in Boise.  If Coldplay or Echo and the Bunnymen decided to man up and not be such wimpy navel-gazers, they might sound a little like these guys: Patricio Torres' steadfast basslines and Malcolm Youngberg's rumbling, propulsive drumming cut through the layers of sparkling mist conjured up by Marcus Youngberg and Perry Bentley's guitars and keyboard.  That combination would have been beguiling enough, but what made it really take off was Marcus Youngberg's strong, aching, forthright tenor.  "We are Uintahs," Youngberg said at one point.  "Goddamn, you aren't gonna remember it, so don't even try."  I wouldn't be so sure of that.

Next up after Uintahs was local alt-rock band The Green Zoo.  This group clearly had talent to spare: their melodies and harmonies stuck to my ears, they stopped and started on a dime, their dirges were no less impressive than their rave-ups and leader Thomas Newby has got a helluva set of pipes on him.  In spite of all this, however, I just couldn't get into their music all the way.  The whole enterprise felt tainted by an adolescent, melodramatic self-absorption.  This came through most strongly in their lyrics' nostalgic idealization of childhood's simplicity and comfort.   Lines like "In the darkness, my nostrils flare" and "Sunlight taps at my window like a lost lover trying to wake me" just made matters worse.  I should probably note, however, that my fellow audience members seemed to like this group just fine.  Guess some folks have a higher tolerance for melodramatic self-absorption than I do.

After The Green Zoo came The Mighty Sequoyah, whose straight-ahead folk- and pop-tinged rock served as a tonic after the previous group's emo archness.  You could possibly think of this five-person group from Provo, Utah as the Beatles or the Byrds up top (twangy guitar jangle, ringing keyboard, yearning fiddle, angelic four-part harmonies) and the Rolling Stones or Cream down below (solid, unflashy bass and kinetic drumming).  At the head of it all rode lead singer Caleb Darger, whose clean, rousing high tenor suited the rootsy melodies perfectly.  This mixture proved irresistible to the crowd, who danced and cheered throughout the entire set.  A single picture doesn't do justice to the infectious good vibe of those thirty minutes, but thankfully, Keesha managed to record some of The Mighty Sequoyah's performance on her phone.  Hopefully, she'll post a clip of it online sometime soon.

I drifted over to the Red Room after The Mighty Sequoyah and consequently missed the closing set by Parade of Bad Guys.  Considering the previous performance of theirs that I caught, I don't imagine that it could've gone too badly.  Their fun-times roots-rock seems like just the thing to have kept the party going.

You can find info about all of these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Also, for any bands interested in booking shows around Boise, you can look up Vagabond Promotions on Facebook, email Whatvagabond@hotmail.com or call 1 208-283-0259.

Wellspring & Honor, Hopeless Jack & the Handsome Devil and Parade of Bad Guys @ Grainey's Basement (5/3/12)

Funny how things can change over time.  I used to be kinda "meh" about Tom Grainey's--decent enough place, I thought, but not one of my go-to bars.  Starting with the Tango Alpha Tango/ Violet Isle show back in March, though, I've found that this bar has been putting on some outstanding live shows.  It probably helps that they've been working lately with my friend Keesha Renna of Vagabond Promotions.  Keesha ran the booking for the Red Room all last year, and she put together consistently superior shows there.

Keesha tipped me off via Facebook about this show at Grainey's Basement.  I grew particularly eager to see it when I saw that Portland, OR punk-blues duo Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil would be playing.  These guys blew the roof off the Red Room last year, but you wouldn't have known it from the stone-faced reception that they got from the crowd that night.  I figured I'd make sure that they got support from at least two people in the crowd this night.

Wellspring & Honor, a power trio based here in Boise, kicked off the show.  I found their casual, self-deprecating air quite agreeable when they bantered with the crowd, much less so when guitarist Marco Mancuso's high, breathy moan wandered off pitch or when their groove came a little unglued here and there.  Maybe driving up from a gig in San Francisco tired them out.  Maybe all the familiar faces in the crowd made them loosen up a bit too much (the bass player quipped that everyone in the audience was their personal friend).  Maybe they just had a couple too many at the bar before showtime.  Still, W&H played well enough to hint at just how good they can be when they're firing on all cylinders.  Their catchy melodies and pensive lyrics came accessorized with throbbing bass, droning riffs and ultra-syncopated drumming that, at times, evoked that Zen master of great rock drummers, Charlie Watts.

Next up were Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil, whose tossed-off instrumental jams packed more concentrated wallop than Wellspring and Honor's entire set did.  And they played those during their soundcheck.  When they really got underway, things got even wilder.


These guys combined the brute force of Led Zeppelin with the heedless, careening velocity of Hound Dog Taylor (the blues' answer to the Ramones).  Hopeless Jack's soulful, tough-as-nails baritone growl would have given Mike Ness larynx envy, and he matched it with his loud, dirty, heavy slide guitar (which he played so hard that, as he said when he stopped to retune it, he "knocked it down six keys").  Smilin' Pete backed his partner up with joyously rough backup vocals and fierce machine-gun drumming.  Like a good Walter Hill movie, they took the raw meat of the macho hoochie-coochie-man archetype, stuck its tounge firmly in its cheek, slapped it on the grill and cranked the heat all the way up.  It was heartening to see that this night's audience was much more receptive to their 120-proof take on the blues.

Local power trio Parade of Bad Guys respectably handled the unenviable task of following Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil.  The most telling moment in their night-closing set was their cover of Bob Dylan's "The Man In Me," which I'll bet that they took from The Big Lebowski rather than New Morning.  Lebowski sums up these guys pretty well: solidly crafted, more than slightly zonked out, not too serious or deep, damn good fun.  Their set consisted of friendly, goofy, drunken banter punctuated by sturdy, punky blues/rockabilly-based songs.  Lead singer Ben's plain, amiable groan (which had a hint of Kurt Cobain's raspy whine) and sharp, Billy Zoom-esque guitar enlivened original material like "Whiskey Drunk" and a Pac Man homage as well as their covers of Dylan and of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads."

You can find more info about these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  And for any touring bands/musicians out there: if you'd like to book some shows in Boise, you can contact Vagabond Promotions via Facebook, email Whatvagabond@hotmail.com or call 1 (208) 283-0259.