Red Hands Black Feet and Iconoplasty @ the Crux; Icarus the Owl and a.k.a. Belle @ the Red Room (8/11/13)

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of Red Hands Black Feet.  Indeed, I've probably written more about them than any other band.  So of course I was gonna see them at the kickoff show for their and Iconoplasty's West Coast Tour.

Sidenote: They've been on tour for a couple of weeks now.  It's gone pretty well overall, but it's also had some hardships and difficulties.

I counted twenty-three people when I got to the Crux.  When Red Hands Black Feet played, I counted about seventy.  A very respectable crowd.

Iconoplasty opened the show.  Josh Gross certainly sounded raring to go: his guitar playing was sharp, his layering of riffs, licks and beats was precise and confident and his transitions between passages were smoother than ever.  It might have been nice if he'd stretched the individual passages out a little more, but then again, the quick change-ups were a good way of keeping people on their toes.  Figuratively, anyway--no one danced, but most everyone watched the stage.

This set featured a booming cameo from Jessica Johnson and a brief section where Gross invited people to say what they thought of the music.  Three people did so.

Jake Myers: "I like it!"

Dillon from San Francisco: "Although I like your music, it makes me feel like a I'm in a Beverly Hills nightmare."

Eric Gilbert: "More rock, less talk."

After Iconoplasty finished, I headed over to the Red Room.  Heather Roberts's Ten Gallon Cat had set up an intriguing bill featuring a.k.a. Belle and Portland rock band Icarus the Owl (she's actually been setting up quite a few interesting shows lately).  I can't lie, though: part of what attracted me to this show was the chance to see Roberts and the Fiddle Junkies' Austin Clark as Bette and Yvette, a.k.a. Belle's two "dancers."

a.k.a. Belle played first and sounded as strong and swinging as ever.  Chris Galli and Louis McFarland's smooth, assured grooves carried along Sam Merrick's screeching guitar and Catherine Merrick's warm, lovely voice.  Once again, it occurred to me that the touch of jazz in this group's sound helps make it a bit sexier than your average Americana act's.  This set featured a brooding new number entitled "Crooked Path" and a clever little quotation from "Like a Hurricane."

And yes, this was about as awesome as I'd hoped.

Icarus the Owl played soon after a.k.a. Belle.  The slight emo whine to Joey Rubenstein's vocals was counterbalanced by the band's rippling guitar licks and angular, disorienting tempos.  Conversely, the emo elements of the music helped keep the math-rock stuff from feeling too arch.  Sharp as a razor and chops to spare but not so's they'd brag about it.  Good stuff.

I would've liked to have stayed for Icarus the Owl's whole set, but I wanted to get back to the Crux in time for Red Hands Black Feet's set.  Walking over, I could hear them from a block away.

Red Hands Black Feet sounded more than ready to hit the road as well.  The material from their upcoming EP sounded as roiling, majestic and achingly beautiful as their older stuff.  The crowd did the expected whooping and nodding to the beat.  During one lyrical guitar intro, Jessica Johnson jumped offstage to hug people in the audience.  Then she got back behind her drum kit and bashed away.

You can find info on these acts on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Heather Roberts and Ten Gallon Cat.  And in case you didn't click on the link earlier, go here to learn how you can help Red Hands Black Feet get out of the red.

Strange Americans, Brass Bed and Marshall Poole @ the Red Room (7/11/13)

Okay, so you've probably noticed that I'm posting this review waaaaaay after the actual show.  I don't think it's ever taken me this long to get a post out (not one on a live show, anyway).

I've got a good excuse, though.  A couple of weeks ago, I had a meeting with a couple of editors at the Boise Weekly.  They were interested in having me do some freelance music writing for them.  I've already completed a handful of assignments, including a review of the Blaqks' first headlining show.

Don't get me wrong; my blogging days aren't over.  It just means that I may not have time to write as many posts.  I'll post links for the stuff that I get published in the Weekly, though, so y'all can check it out.  If you want to, anyway.

Anyway, back to our normally scheduled programming.

Both Brass Bed and Marshall Poole had impressed me very much when I saw them last year.  So when I had the chance to see them both again, I took it.  It didn't hurt either that I'd never seen Strange Americans before (I do like a promising name).

I counted twelve people when I got to the Red Room, most of whom were out on the patio.  When Strange Americans played, I counted thirteen.  So it goes.

Marshall Poole opened the show.  If anything, this young Caldwell trio sounded even more impressive that they did last September.  Their thunderous riffs, fluid basslines and swift, muscular drums had slightly more of a punk feel than I remembered.  That could've just stemmed from their tight groove and sharp, concise songwriting.  As scorching as Rider Sloan's guitar solos were, what amazed me most was how Melanie Radford could sing while still plucking the strings like crazy.

Brass Bed played next.  In my post on their Neurolux show, I wrote that this Louisiana band sounded like the Beatles one minute and Black Sabbath the next.  I didn't quite hear that this time around, but that's not to say that they sounded bad.  Far from it: light, murmured vocals blended with pounding drums, twangy bass and phantasmagorical guitar sounds.  Both dreamy and rousing.

Strange Americans closed out the night.  Their massive riffs, hard rhythm section and soothing vocals and melodies weren't all that strange (kinda reminded me of Kings of Leon, actually), but they certainly weren't bad.  If the modest audience disappointed them, they didn't show it: the guys bounced, lunged and bent low as they played.  They also joked around between songs ("Can you tell we've played enough G-rated shows?").

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 and donate.

Le Fleur, the Raven and the Writing Desk and Color Animal @ the Red Room (6/29/13)

Le Fleur was one of the handful of bands who made me think, "Hey, there's something going on in this here Boise music scene."  So when I learned that this would be their last show ever, I felt obliged to go and bid them farewell.  Talk about the Raven and the Writing Desk's dynamite performance at the WavePOP house gave me extra incentive to check this show out.

I counted twenty people when I got to the Red Room.  When Le Fleur took the stage, I counted around ninety (there could've been more).  A fine turnout.

Unfortunately, I worked the closing shift at a new part-time job, so I missed Storie Grubb's opening set.  Oh well.  Hopefully, I'll get to see/hear him and the Holy Wars soon--they've been working on some promising stuff lately.

Color Animal sounded murkier here than they did at the Flying M; I couldn't hear the guitars weave together quite as well.  Most likely, this was just due to the Red Room's acoustics.  Anyway, that was a pretty minor quibble since they sounded just as tuneful and rocking as they did the night before.  Hopefully, the slightly larger crowd will encourage them to come back around sometime.

The Raven and the Writing Desk played next.  One gentleman described this Denver band to me as sounding like King Crimson joining with the Dresden Dolls to cover the Murder City Devils and Black Sabbath.  That trumps pretty much anything I can come up with ("a more symphonic Tom Waits or Murder By Death" sounds awfully weak by comparison).  Eerie violin, rumbling drums, crunching guitar, pounding piano and cool xylophone swirled around Julia LiBassi's soaring, swooning moan and cabaret-tinged tunes.  Would've made a helluva double bill with Minor Birds.  They'll be back, LiBassi said.  I hope so.

Le Fleur closed out the night with possibly their best set ever (that I've seen).  Their steady, relentless rhythms and howling fog of guitars sounded good and fierce.  Meanwhile, Ivy Meissner worked some grit into her growl, snarl and wail.  The crowd bounced, swayed and cheered wildly as the band scraped their repertoire bare ("At this point, we really only have a couple left.  For reals!").  It's sad that there won't be any more of this.  Still, a very fine note to go out on.

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 and donate.  Even $5 would help.

Weatherbox, LA Font and A Sea of Glass @ the Red Room (6/20/13)

I'd never heard Weatherbox and LA Font before.  This, of course, gave me all the reason I needed to check this show out.  The chance to see A Sea of Glass again was a nice bonus.

I counted thirty-five people at the Red Room when I arrived.  When Weatherbox played, not more than fifteen or sixteen people were watching them.  Bummer, but it happens.

A Sea of Glass opened the show.  The audience stood a few feet away from the stage during this set.  In a way, I found that fitting.  There's a certain fragile majesty to this group's music; it's grand and soaring, but it feels as if it could vanish if you get too close to it.  The ebb and flow of their surging rhythms, airy guitar, swooning violin and angelic vocals sounded as gorgeous as it did the past two times that I've heard them.  The moments when Joseph Lyle didn't quite hit those high notes just added a nice human touch.

LA Font played next.  I dig pretty melodies and twang-jangle-and-drone as much as the next guy.  If you ask me, however, it's the bass and drums that separate the men/women from the boys/girls when it comes to 60's/70's pop/surf/garage knock-offs.  This L.A. (Echo Park, to be precise) band was a perfect case in point.  The sunny tunes were plenty catchy and Danny Bobbe and Jon Perry's guitars plenty sharp, but they wouldn't have gotten as far without Greg Katz's tuneful basslines and Harlow Rodriguez's smooth, strong drumming pushing them forward.  The smart lyrics were a nice bonus.  And sure, Bobbe may have sounded like an a**hole, but I'll take punky sneer over indie reediness most any day.

Besides, anybody with merch like this can't be too bad.  Go Dodgers!

Weatherbox closed out the night.  This San Diego band's mix of poppy melodies, grinding riffs and galloping drums struck a fascinating balance between thunderous and light or even playful.  The pockets of space in their sound (riff-riff-stop riff-riff-stop, quiet verses and LOUD choruses) probably helped.  It really was too bad that more people didn't stay to check them out.  At least they got some good whoops and cheers from those who did as well as an offer to put them up for the night.

You can find info on these groups 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.

High Desert Hooligans, Trigger Itch and Piranhas BC @ the Red Room (6/7/13)

This night's Neurolux show had a definite buzz to it, no doubt owing to its headliner, the Grizzled Mighty, having played Treefort this year.  However, I'd already written about that concert's openers, the Blaqks and Parade of Bad Guys, a few times before.  This Red Room show, on the other hand, featured two acts I'd never seen.  That was enough to tip the scales in its favor.

I counted about fifteen people when I got down there.  There were about forty there when High Desert Hooligans played, but most of them chose to hang out on the patio during that set.  So it goes.  At least, judging from the crapload of people that I saw when I walked by earlier in the evening, the Neurolux show was well-attended.

Piranhas BC opened the show.  Boy, these guys sure do grow on you.  I've liked their catchy tunes and fluid, piercing solos from the first time that I heard them.  The more that I see this group, however, the more impressive that their tunes' consistency and their groove's sturdiness become.  The same goes for their smart arrangements and James Thomason's offhandedly deft vocals (a little mock-Phil Anselmo here, a little rapid-fire reciting there).  I dig Thomason's non-stop hopping, strutting and mugging as well (though he does make it difficult to take a picture of him without using a flash).  Winningly unpretentious.

Local group Trigger Itch played next.  Between their manic rhythm section, their metallic, rockabilly-ish riffs, their ferocious soloing and their rough, shouted vocals, these guys called to mind my favorite metal band, Motorhead.  They seemed to drag the beat a little on one song, but then I realized that it was a split-second tempo shift.  Most of the Red Room's patrons were outside when this set started, but it didn't take long for people to come back in and cheer the band on.

Redmond, OR rock band High Desert Hooligans closed out the night.  If you look up this group on Facebook, you'll find plenty of bands listed under "Influences": Dead Kennedys, the Runaways, the Ramones, AC/DC.  Respectable names, no doubt.  Influential, I'm sure.  Still, I smell what Harold Bloom might call an "evasion."  With their hard-driving rhythms, buzzsaw riffs, harshly catchy tunes and growled vocals, these guys and gals were damn near a dead-ringer for L7.  Nothing wrong with that, especially when you factor in the Hooligans' funny, bitchy lyrics and playful stage presence (sarcastically golly-gee mugging, some gentle nudging).  It really was a shame that most people drifted back out onto the patio during this set.  At least they got a chance to see the lead singer and bassist when they hopped down and ran out the door during a massive drum solo.  They didn't get to see Piranhas, Trigger Itch and others dancing and jumping around onstage with the Hooligans during the finale, though.  Smart, rowdy fun.

You can find info on these acts 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.  Even $5 would help.

Eons, Rocky Mountain District, Banned Books, Rollersnakes and Hot Lava @ the Red Room (5/13/13)

A press release that I received piqued my interest in this show.  A band who makes "beautifully damaged avant-pop music" and opened for Deerhoof, tUnE-yArDs and Delicate Steve?  Sounded like they'd be worth a shot at least.  Also, I'd never seen Hot Lava before and wanted to see how Rollersnakes struck me a second time around.

There were about fifteen people at the Red Room when I arrived.  I don't think that the audience ever rose above twenty for the entire night.  So it goes on a Monday, I guess.

Hot Lava kicked off the night's music.  This young local band sounded a little stiff here and there--their lead singer admitted that they hadn't played in a while--but overall, they got a more than decent groove going.  They had plenty of other stuff going for them too: well-crafted songs, chugging bass, charging beats, rousing riffs.  I guess you could call them pop-punk, but that doesn't sound quite right.  Power-pop, maybe?  Halfway between late-seventies punk and early-eighties "new wave"?  In any case, good stuff.

Rollersnakes played next.  Their fuzzy guitar, bashing drums and unvarnished vocals proved every bit as enjoyable as they did at last January's Rich Hands show.  Probably more, actually, since I could reflect on just how sharp their riffs and tunes are.  Also, while they still seemed a little shy, they looked and sounded more comfortable and confident than I remembered.

Up next was Banned Books.  I was tempted to call this Philadelphia group what Deerhoof might sound like once the Blue Fairy turns them into a real band, but that's a touch too snarky and not entirely accurate besides.  Still, their jerky, lurching grooves called Deerhoof to mind, and their robust rapport and smoothly crooned vocals topped them.  I don't know how Deerhoof fans would feel about their gleefully ear-wrenching guitar and synthesizer.  Me, I liked them fine.  The meager crowd seemed to as well: almost everyone stayed close to the stage for the duration of the set.

After Banned Books came Rocky Mountain District, the first of two Utah hardcore bands who got added to the bill at the last minute (a gig at the Shredder had apparently fallen through due to some scheduling mix-up).  This may be the only hardcore band I've heard where the silence around the tumult resonated as powerfully as the tumult itself.  Not that this duo's frantic drums, bipolar guitar and howled vocals weren't respectably tortured and furious.  It's just that their penchant for ominous, ambient drones and the spaces in their spare sound gave the music a fascinating screaming-into-the-cold-void feel.  Arty, brooding, lonesome stuff.

Eons closed out the night.  This quintet's sound was more straight-ahead melodic hardcore than Rocky Mountain District's: relentless rhythms, raging guitars, bellowed vocals.  They concentrated most of their power in the bass and drums, however, and their limber groove helped win me over.  It was also nice that they didn't feel the need to show off their chops too much.  Seemed like awfully nice guys as well: they joked around a bit, thanked the audience more than a few times (particularly the Boise friend who'd helped them get this gig), urged people to support Banned Books and movingly disclosed how one song was inspired by a close friend killing himself (condolences to lead singer Matt Wiley).

You can find info on these groups 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.  Even $5 could go a long way.

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.