Album Preview: Modern Kin (2013)

Over the past few months, I've received numerous emails from PR firms inviting me to check out the music of various artists.  I'll give some of the tracks a listen--I try to stay on the lookout for cool new stuff--but since they're not really connected to Idaho, I haven't shared them here (though I was very tempted to share a video by this one French disco group).

Anyway, an exception to the above came my way just yesterday.  I received an email not from a PR firm but from Kris Doty (right), whom some readers will remember from her years in the Boise music scene (she came back in March and played a good set at Treefort).  She's living in Portland now, and she currently has a band with guitarist/lead singer Drew Grow (left) and drummer Jeremiah Hayden (center) called Modern Kin.

Modern Kin has been getting some good press lately.  "Abandon," a track from their upcoming debut album, indicates why:


Modern Kin's eponymous debut will be released by Hayden's Amigo/Amiga label on October 22.  It was produced by rock goddess Janet Weiss (Quasi, Sleater-Kinney).  You can check out a preview for the album below (it was directed by Weiss):

You can find Modern Kin on Facebook and pre-order Modern Kin now on Bandcamp.

Sama Dams, Catherine Feeny, Judson Claiborne and the Boise Cello Collective @ the Crux (6/22/13)

This night offered cello enthusiasts a couple of options: they could've checked out this Crux show, which featured the Boise Cello Collective, or the Portland Cello Project at the VaC.  I chose the Crux, but not so much because of cellos.  Instead, I'd listened to a couple of songs by Sama Dams and grown intrigued.

There were over fifty people at the Crux when I arrived.  That number would drop by the time that Sama Dams played--that was around 11:30--but about thirty folks still stuck around to see them.  Overall, a good turnout.

I showed up late but got there in time to catch about half of the Boise Cello Collective's set.  I'll admit that this music made a bit nervous at first.  I ain't no classical musics expert, I thought.  How'm I s'posed to write about this?  Thankfully, a few pop song covers helped me find my bearings.  Danika McClure may have leaned a little too hard into an Elliot Smith song, but her high, fluttery voice was quite pleasant nonetheless.  Besides, the other cellists' playing and arrangements were as smart and sensitive as you could've wanted.  It may not have been much of a trick to make the Beatles' "Yesterday" sound pretty, but their Vivaldi-esque retooling of the Who's "Baba O'Riley" impressed me greatly.  Also impressive were a pair of originals by cellist Mark Doubleday that ended the set.  The first was a mellow, swooning number that made me think of a warm autumn day.  The second, which was tenser and more slashing, rubbed the Bernard Herrmann fan in me the right way.

Up next was Chicago/Olympia musician Judson Claiborne.  I couldn't figure out exactly whose voice Claiborne's warm, sturdy tenor reminded me of (Bono without the preening melodrama, maybe?).  In any case, his occasionally cryptic lyrics and his serene yet somehow disquieting tunes made me think a little of Nick Drake.  Claiborne was a good deal tougher, however; I can't picture Nick Drake singing lines like "I been walkin' down the road, / I got piss all over my clothes."  (I think that's what he said, anyway.)

Catherine Feeny played next.  I imagine that Suzanne Vega might sound like this if she hooked up with Joe Strummer.  Feeny's high, eerie wail and spare, tense ukulele lines kicked any hint of twee to the curb, and her Occupy-inspired lyrics drove a stake through its heart ("Calling all souls / Before it's too late / Lie in the way of the police state.").  Her three-piece band backed her up with bright, misty keyboard, funky guitar and delicate, jazzy, propulsive drumming.  The audience applauded Feeny so loudly that they managed to squeeze an encore out of her.

Sama Dams finished the show.  Catherine Feeny was an awfully tough act to follow, but this Portland band managed just fine with their subdued, Thom Yorke-ish wails, hazy guitar, glowing keyboard and supple, jagged beats.  The lyrics that I caught weren't as pointed as Feeny's, but I still found their ominousness plenty agreeable.  A cameo from Sun Blood Stories' Andy Rayborn didn't hurt either.  The crowd stayed in their seats but applauded warmly throughout.

You can find info on these acts 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 would help.

Lydia, From Indian Lakes, Sweet Talker and Sheep Among Wolves @ the Venue (4/20/13)

I'd originally planned to see Captured By Robots at the Shredder this night, but then on the night before, I received an email from Rob Lanterman from the local band Sheep Among Wolves.  They were opening for Lydia and From Indian Lakes at the Venue this Saturday, the letter said, and they'd hook me up with a ticket if I was interested in reviewing them.  After listening to a handful of their songs and weighing the four acts I'd never seen on that bill against the two that I already had on the Shredder's, I decided that it'd be worth a shot.  So, after Mr. Lanterman didn't balk at my standard don't-expect-a-good-review-just-cuz-you-give-me-a-ticket warning, I took him up on his offer.

Thirty-five people were already hanging around outside when I got down to the Venue.  When the doors opened, I counted at least seventy.  By the time that From Indian Lakes played, I estimated somewhere between 110 and 120 people in the crowd.  A darn good turnout.  I appreciated as well that the crowd was composed entirely of young, unfamiliar faces.  When you see enough of the same people at show after show, you can start to worry that those are the only people checking out live music in this town.

Sheep Among Wolves opened the show.  Their lead singer, Trevor Adams, had to attend a family reunion and couldn't make this gig.  However, while Lanterman and company's light tenors had their limits, I've heard bands get by with much less.  Besides, they had plenty of other stuff going for them: ringing guitars, hard but flexible grooves, an agreeably punk-ish stage act (lots of jumping and headbanging) and some droll, goofy banter.  And while this group's explicit and unapologetic Christian beliefs would've undoubtedly made some of my fellow atheists/agnostics uncomfortable, I appreciated that their lyrics emphasized guilt, pain and struggle much more than redemption.  Because of this, the Jesus Saves stuff felt hard-won rather than smug when it reared its head.  I'd like to see the complete lineup, but going off what I saw and heard here, this is a very respectable group.

Sweet Talker played next.  Just when I think I can't bear to hear one more friggin' cover of "Hallelujah," someone comes along and taps into that song's heartbreaking, unfathomable beauty once more.  Thanks in no small part to Kevin Fisher's caressing, angelic high end, this Phoenix duo's take on the Cohen classic rivaled John Cale's and Jeff Buckley's.  The misty keyboard, jangling guitar and smooth dance-beats of their originals proved equally enthralling.  That name ain't no joke.  Ethereal, utterly beguiling electro-pop.

From Indian Lakes played next (no points for guessing where they're from).  Here was just the thing to amp the crowd back up after Sweet Talker.  While their clean guitars and harmonies were plenty dreamy, their wailing distortion and lean, driving rhythm section brought the rawk.  They got some big applause from the crowd and rightly so.

Lydia closed out the night.  This Gilbert, AZ band's sound left a lot more room to breathe than From Indian Lake's did, but it was still plenty massive.  Steady beats and fluid basslines supported breathy vocals, tingling keyboard and chiming, Edge-y guitar lines.  Their tunes were so anthemic that I could've sworn I'd heard them before if I didn't know better.  The audience had certainly heard them before, though: they cheered wildly at each song that frontman Leighton Antelman called and at quite a few of the ones that he didn't.  Antelman gave as good as he got too--he playfully teased the crowd a little and seemed genuinely grateful for the adoring reception (even if they didn't play an encore).

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Rob Lanterman.  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.  And all the best to Trevor Adams's grandma, who just turned eighty.

Lord Huron and Night Moves @ Neurolux (10/20/12)

Before this show, Lord Huron and Night Moves were just names on Neurolux's calendar to me.  I'm almost always up for checking out new bands, though, and I was impressed enough by a Lord Huron song that I'd played earlier that day to take a chance.

I counted about fifty people when I got down to Neurolux.  I sat at the bar, read a bit from Please Kill Me and waited for the show to start.  One of Lord Huron's guitar players passed by at one point and complimented me on my book.  I took that as a promising sign.

First up this night was Night Moves.  I checked this Minneapolis group's Facebook page after the show and was a little surprised to find just Neil Young, Todd Rundgren and Young Money listed under "Artists We Also Like."  I suppose that those names are more indie-correct than, say, the Delfonics.  Their glimmering guitars, watery keyboard, steady rhythms and falsetto vocals mixed 00's indie rock and 70's soul.  Not many folks danced during their set, but this stuff had more of a 2 a.m. make-out feel anyway.  Fascinating.

Lord Huron played next.  This Los Angeles group's sound proved even more unlikely than Night Moves', combining folk-country melodies and harmonies with quasi-African rhythms.  If their lyrics had been equally idiosyncratic, the blend might have gone down a bit easier.  From what I could make out, however, they stuck to standard-issue old-timey themes and language ("I was born on the lake and I don't want to leave it...", "I'll share my life with you, brother...").  This made the whole enterprise feel kinda hollow and maybe even a little condescending.  Their outdoorsman shtick--misty mountain backdrop, blue jean and corduroy attire--didn't help on that front.  Still, the sweetness of their tunes and the litheness of their grooves were awfully hard to resist.  God knows the crowd didn't put up much of a fight: they danced, jumped and shouted throughout most of the set.

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

Swansea and Little Owl @ the Flying M Coffee-Garage (10/10/12)

This show caught my interest by simple virtue of its location; I've always enjoyed catching gigs out at Nampa's Flying M, and I hadn't been out there in a while.  Of course, it helped too that the bill featured two out-of-town bands I'd never seen before.  And when I learned that one of those bands hailed from Santa Barbara, I felt almost obligated to go (I got my B.A. from UCSB).

Because its acts didn't have much drawing power around here, I'd suspected that not many people would attend this show.  Being right sucks sometimes: I saw only one civilian in the crowd when I arrived, and the audience would peak at just fourteen people.  To their credit, neither band seemed to let the meager crowd adversely affect their performance.  Of course, I'm sure that they know full well that that kind of attitude can help get you drawing power.

First up was Swansea, a quirky indie-rock trio from Portland.  I took it as a promising sign that their lead singer, Rebecca Sanborn, was wearing a Fanno Creek t-shirt.  Being right feels good sometimes: this group's hypnotic keyboard hooks, rousing harmonies and powerhouse drumming struck a nice balance between arty and poppy.  As an added bonus, their lyrics were not only intelligible but commendable.  One song called bullshit on a significant other's negative attitude while the proudly independent protagonist of their warm, redemptive closer resolved to stay by another other's side.

After Swansea came Little Owl from Santa Barbara.  My heart sank a little when I saw this group's leader, Yoni Berk, wearing a ridiculous wool reindeer sweater before the show (superficial, I know, but hey, Patton Oswalt knows what I'm talking about).  Being wrong feels good sometimes: their hooky songwriting, airy keyboards, droning riffs, stoic basslines and furious drumming transcended mere cutesiness and achieved irresistibility.  They could shift between full-throttle rave-up and swinging funk at the drop of a hat.  Their lyrics weren't too shabby either: one song drew upon Berk's experiences in the Middle East while their closer, "Track Star," featured a tidy satirical portrait of the status-fixated titular figure.   If you're gonna be a hipster, you could do a lot worse than this.

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

Murder By Death and Ha Ha Tonka @ Neurolux; Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars and Duckmandu @ the Red Room (8/14/12)

I'd planned to check out The Last Bison and A Seasonal Disguise at Neurolux this past Monday, but I got too caught up working on my backlog of posts and--gasp!--a genuine, bona fide paying freelance writing gig!  I'm both scared and excited about that last one.  Just gotta jump off the cliff and see if I can fly, I guess.

Anyway, I'd managed to put that work aside long enough to head down to this most recent Radio Boise Tuesday.  I'd seen Murder By Death once before a few years back at the Knitting Factory.  I forget whom they opened for, but I remembered being quite impressed with this Indiana-based band.  This show gave me the opportunity to put my memories to the test.

As I'd anticipated, there was a solid turnout for this show.  I counted over forty people when I got down to Neurolux, and at least another twenty people showed up after only twenty minutes had passed.  I chatted with a friend and a very charming MFA graduate at the bar until the show began.  I really hope I didn't bore them too much talking about this blog and poetry and such.

First up at Neurolux was the Missouri band Ha Ha Tonka.  The touches of blues, country and folk in their music basically added extra flavoring to what amounted to some darn good indie-rock.  Brian Roberts's friendly drawl found support in Lennon Bones's unflashily proficient drumming, Lucas Long's throbbing basslines and Brett Anderson's piercing guitar and rockin' electric mandolin.  Their groove sounded pretty uptight compared to that of, say, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, but in indie-rock, a certain uptightness tends to go with the territory.

Murder By Death played next.  As I listened to them, it occurred to me that a few bands I've heard recently go for a similar kind of genre mash-up (blues plus country plus rockabilly plus funk plus folk plus who knows what else) that this group does.  This prompted the question: how exactly does Murder By Death do it better than most of these others?  Part of it may have had to do with Adam Turla's stolid baritone purr, which doesn't sound quite like any other voice I've heard.  More than likely, part of it had to do with Sarah Balliet's cello, which serves as the emotional and spiritual center of the group as surely as Clarence Clemons's sax did for the E Street Band.  In the end, however, it may have just come down to better songwriting: stronger hooks, stronger tunes, definitely stronger lyrics (a highlight of their set was a new song about going to a wake for someone you hate and having such a good time with his friends that you wonder if maybe you're the bigger asshole).  Of course, Scott Brackett's thoughtful accordion/trumpet/keyboard contributions, Matt Armstrong's juggernaut-like basslines and Dagan Thogerson's swinging, muscular drumming didn't hurt either.

After Murder By Death finished, I headed over to the Red Room, hoping to catch at least a little of their Atypical Tuesday show.  I was in luck: I got there in time to catch the excellent set by local group Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars.  They may have decided to let go of electric guitarist Shane Brown, but Storie Grubb's deft work with his amplified acoustic and distortion pedal filled in that sonic gap.  Luna Michelle's bass playing sounded more confident than ever, and the high-octane drumming gave the music some extra punch.  And best of all, I could actually hear the accordion (sounded lovely)!

Duckmandu a.k.a. California musician Aaron Seeman closed out the night.  His gleeful solo accordion covers of "Thus Spoke Zarathustra," "Anarchy in the UK," "Sweet Georgia Brown," David Bowie, the Dead Kennedys, Tom Lehrer, Black Flag, Waylon Jennings, Mozart and a couple of polska (old Swedish folk) tunes brought a big ol' grin to my face.  He regretfully informed the crowd that, although he typically burns his duck hat at the end of his set-capping "Highway to Hell" cover, he wouldn't this night due to too much flammable-looking stuff around the stage.  He did, however, pull out a duck hand puppet to quack out "Old Macdonald" and "London Bridge is Falling Down."  Good absurd fun--exactly what you'd expect of Evil Wine.

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Radio Boise.

The Ascetic Junkies and The Hokum Hi-Flyers @ the Flying M Coffee-Garage (7/25/12)

I swear, sometimes it feels like Treefort never ended.  Over the past two or three months, I've seen at least ten out-of-state groups who played there, I've missed a couple more and I know that at least five are coming back very soon (including Tartufi, who plays in or around Boise so often that they oughtta just buy a house here).  The chance to check out The Ascetic Junkies, whose Treefort set I'd missed, attracted me to this show out at Nampa's Flying M.  Also, they've just got one of the coolest names that I've heard in a while (Boom Chick might be their only competition in that regard).

This show had a $5 cover initially, but the organizer for the Flying M's shows, Nathan Walker, decided to make it donation-only due to the low turnout.  That was a smart move, as was his decision to open up the garage so that the folks outside could hear the music.  I dropped $5 in the donation can and parked myself at one of the wooden tables inside.

First up this evening were Scott Knickerbocker and Travis Ward from the Boise group The Hokum Hi-Flyers (and of course, Boise readers will probably also know Ward as the frontman for another group, Hillfolk Noir).  They were only a fraction of the Hi-Flyer's full lineup, Knickerbocker told the audience; they actually have six members currently.  From what I heard, they did just fine with two guys.  Knickerbocker's spirited banjo picking and charming, conversational singing meshed very nicely with Ward's more laconic guitar parts and slightly nasally delivery.  Whether playing their own songs or such old-timey chestnuts as "The Cuckoo," they loved the music wisely enough and well enough not to lay on the cornpone or the sepia tone too thick.  They made me think of those summer evenings of my childhood when my dad would listen to Mountain Stage and A Prairie Home Companion on the radio.

After The Hokum Hi-Flyers came The Ascetic Junkies.  This Portland-based group apparently played with a reduced lineup as well (their website lists a bassist and a drummer), but with Matt Harmon on guitar and Kali Giaritta on keyboard and percussion, they didn't seem to need much more.  I imagine that The Moldy Peaches might sound like this when they grow up a little, take some music lessons and find a good therapist.  Their peppy beat, winsome folk-pop tunes and high, clean voices partook of the childlike whimsy that's an indie staple nowadays, but their skipping, stuttering guitar riffs and runs and their quietly sophisticated arrangements bespoke the best kind of maturity (i.e. confident but not arrogant, experienced but not stodgy).  The same went for their wise, warm and witty lyrics.  My favorite of their many excellent originals was "Good News," a ditty about finding solace in the meaninglessness of existence.  Their set also included an inspired cover of Green Day's "Basket Case" (who knew that song had such great lyrics?).

One thing makes me curious, though.  This was the second group I've seen within a little over a week to cover Tom Waits's "Tango Til They're Sore."  Is this song gonna become as ubiquitous as "Hallelujah"?  I dunno.  Anyway, the Junkies did a good job with that one too.  Considering the dash of jazzy sultriness in Kali Giaritta's singing, though, I wonder what they could do with "Temptation."

You can find info on these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Nathan Walker and the Flying M for letting me take pictures with a halfway decent camera.