The PirkQlaters, the Useless, JamesPlaneWreck and Skittish Itz @ the Knitting Factory (5/23/13)

"I know you motherf*ckers know the words!" Ryan Sampson shouted midway through the second song.  And he was right: when the chorus rolled around again, the lyrics boomed out from the crowd.

I didn't really know the words.  In fact, prior to this show, I'd never heard nor seen the PirkQlaters before.  I knew the name, however, and their rep as Boise's premier ska band.  Also, I'd come to like many of the band's members both as musicians and as people; Sampson's last project, the now-defunct Hotel Chelsea, was one of the best punk bands in town, and I really don't want to think about how many drinks I've bought from him, Red Kubena, Justin Andrews and Luke Strother over the years.  Anyway, when I added all of this up, I had more than enough reason to check out this Knitting Factory show, which marked the PirkQlaters' rebirth.

There were already ninety people there when I arrived.  When the PirkQlaters played, there were so many that I didn't even bother to count.  I'll say this much, though: except maybe for Sonic Youth, I can't remember any other Knitting Factory show that was so well-attended.  I saw plenty of familiar faces as well, including Ivy Meissner, Dustin Verberg (Black Bolt), Josh Gross, Geno Lopez (the Sneezz), Travis Abbott (Obscured By the Sun) and at least two members of Piranhas (who were originally on this bill but didn't play, for some reason).

Local punk band Skittish Itz opened the show.  "It's not rocket surgery," lead singer Russ Worstell's t-shirt said.  Stupid on the surface but clever when you think about it--suited this band very well, I thought.  Not that their music sounded dumb; it was just that their catchy melodies and buzzsaw riffs did their damnedest to perpetuate that so-simple-anyone-can-do-it punk myth.  Their smart lyrics, complex arrangements, indomitable drums and fluid solos gave the lie, however.  But that just made their love of punk's idealized simplicity even more commendable.

JamesPlaneWreck played next.  After the show, a member of this band told me that they felt uncomfortable being on that big stage.  I can understand that, but from where I was standing, they looked and sounded as if they belonged up there.  Blasting out of the Knitting Factory's speakers, "F*ckin' With Ghosts" and "When We Start to Fold" never sounded more anthemic.  Aaron Smith's rough voice and guitar roared, Shaun Shireman's bass surged along underneath, Shane Brown carved some stinging leads out of his Idaho-shaped guitar and Andrew Bagley redlined his drums.  When the tip of Bagley's drumstick broke off at the end, I couldn't help but wonder why that doesn't happen more often.

Up next was the Useless.  Any fears that one may have had of a restrained, tactful performance were swiftly allayed by the blow-up doll that the band set down on the PirkQlaters' drum kit (it didn't stay up there for too long: one of the horn players chucked it into the pit, where the crowd proceeded to toss it, swing it around and bap each other on the head with it).  Anyway, this groups' throaty vocals, curling guitar licks, woozy brass and bouncy rhythms all sounded as winningly raucous as ever.  In keeping with the revivalist spirit of the evening, when people called out for a number from their straight-up punk days, the band busted it out in spite of their protests as to their age, weight and blood-alcohol level.  The mosh circle started up as soon as the first number kicked into gear, and the crowd in the pit kept up the cheering, jumping, dancing, chanting and fist-pumping straight through to the end.

The PirkQlaters provided a truly grand finale to the night.  Kris Simmons's chugging, melodic bass and Chris Devino's rip-roaring drums provided the engine for the blitzkrieg ska and pop-punk tunes.  Red Kubena's dreads flailed as he slashed away at his guitar, and his and Aaron Clayton's buzz complemented Ryan Sampson's manic chicken-scratch.  Meanwhile, Ryan Sampson's tuneful holler sounded in good form, and it met its match in Justin Andrews's rousing harmonies.  Andrews also pitched in with some jabbing saxophone solos and did pretty much everything he could to whip the crowd into a frenzy (strutting and jumping around the stage, hopping onto the drum riser and urging the crowd to clap to the beat, etc.).  Last but definitely not least, College of Idaho professor Luke Strother contributed some elegant trombone work, grinned, slapped his chest, sang along with and without his mic and generally looked the happiest that I've ever seen him.

Almost everyone in the audience was on their feet for the duration of the set.  The pit became a maelstrom of bouncing, moshing, singing, roaring and crowd-surfing.  The Useless's blow-up doll got popped and torn to shreds (I saw someone holding its arm later on).  A bra materialized on Luke Strother's mic stand.  Andy A from Demoni (and Eightball Break, which Sampson cited as the PirkQlaters' biggest influence) came onstage to play bass on a couple of numbers.  Shane Brown hopped onstage with his shirt open and jiggled his belly at the crowd.  Justin Andrews wished audience member Sage Cooper a happy sixteenth birthday and tossed him a frisbee signed by the band (it got tossed off to the side of the stage not long after; hope the kid got it back).  Between songs, Ryan Sampson crammed in jokes, stories, thanks to the audience and shout-outs to original PirkQlater Zak Gilstrap, the openers and the Boise music scene as a whole.

All told, this was easily one of the best shows that I've seen this year.  "And this is not the reunion show," Sampson told the crowd near the end.  "We're back, motherf*ckers!"

Ryan Sampson holding court at the after-party at Sammy's

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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.

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Voice of Reason, The Steve Fulton Band, Pause for the Cause and Edmond Dantes @ the VaC (12/22/12)

I decided to check this show out because I wanted to show some support for Boise Rock School, who set the show up and who benefited from all of this night's proceeds.  Of course, it also helped that the bill featured two local acts I'd never seen before (well, I thought I hadn't, anyway) and synth-soul/funk duo Edmond Dantes, whom I've wanted to see again since the Go Listen Boise electronica show back in July.

I saw about twenty people at the VaC when I arrived.  Happily, that number would more than double as the night progressed.

Edmond Dantes opened the show.  Their tunes and hooks sounded every bit as elegant and entrancing as I remembered.  Ryan Peck's tight, fluid bass work and some slinky, intricate recorded beats wrapped around Andrew Stensaas's silken moan and warm synthesizer.  There wasn't much dancing during this set, but there was some good applause.

Up next was Meridian group Pause for the Cause.  This may be a bit of a backhanded compliment, but society must be improving when Meridian's getting their groove on.  Even before they played a cover of "Badfish," I'd remarked that these guys sounded quite a bit like Sublime.  That's not a bad thing--their catchy tunes, sharp arrangements, elastic basslines, fiery guitar solos, rock-steady drumming and interweaving vocals would've sounded just fine on 90's alternative radio.  They sounded just fine in 2012 too.

After Pause for the Cause came the Steve Fulton Band.  As it turned out, I had already seen Fulton back when his old band, House of Hoi Polloi, opened for the B-52's.  I remember thinking that they were so-so, but that could've just been impatience on my part (they weren't the group I wanted to see).  Anyway, I found Fulton's clear tenor, clipped soloing and inspired blend of blues, country and reggae much more than so-so this time around.  It undoubtedly helped that he had some tough, twangy bass, percolating drums and wailing organ (courtesy of old Hoi Polloi compatriot Russ Pfeifer) backing him up.  This set also featured some smooth rapping from local emcee Exit Prose (formerly known as Timbuk II of Kamphire Collective).

Local reggae group Voice of Reason closed out the night.  Perhaps it was the same as when I saw Hoi Polloi open for the B-52's, but this group impressed me much more here than they did when they opened for Toots and the Maytals back in July.  Frontman John Hoonhout's bluesy licks sounded more distinctive, and the Jamaican accent that he adopted while singing was uncanny--it sounded like the genuine article, not some affectation.  His bandmates' high harmonies, sly basslines, lithe drumming and tasteful horn interjections all followed suit.  I grew too tired to stay for the entirety of their second set, but the band and a handful of people were still going strong when I left around 1 AM.

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