The Evil Wine Carnival @ the VaC (9/29/13)

Since this is the last blog post that I have in the queue right now, I thought that this would be a good time to make a brief announcement.  As readers have undoubtedly noticed, there's been a steep decline in write-ups for HCTD.  The reason--or the main reason, rather--is simple: I've been pitching quite a few stories/reviews to the Boise Weekly, and the Weekly keeps saying yes (and tossing me more assignments on top of them).  These assignments must take priority because they require more work, they have tighter deadlines and, most important of all, they pay (well, the ones that show up in the paper do, anyway).

Now, does this mean that this blog is coming to an end?  No, but there'll be fewer posts for (knock on wood) the foreseeable future.  Also, in addition to the Weekly, three other factors are competing for my attention right now.  The first is my part-time gig at the Record Exchange.  The second is my role as contributor/copyeditor for The Exposition, a Boise-based music website.  Jenny Bowler, whose fine photographs appeared in my Treefort 2013 posts, has taken up its reins.  There's some interesting stuff in the works, so find it on Facebook and stay tuned.

The third is... Well, she's about 5'9" (correction: she's actually 5'7") with brown-blond hair, blue-green eyes, a smile like the springtime sun and a curve in her back that drives me to distraction.  She's smart, she's kind, she's tough, she's passionate and she's got good taste--likes Dorothea Lange, Rosalie Sorrels, The A-Team, old-school hip-hop and lots more.  So if, on a given Friday or Saturday night, I'm given the choice between covering a show and snuggling with her while watching Rio Bravo or Black Dynamite... Well, sorry, but you'll just have to tell me what I missed.

But with all of this said, let me be emphatic: I may not write here as often, but I will keep this blog going for as long as I can.  For one thing, it allows me to write more informally and (at my best) colorfully.  But more importantly, I know that this blog and its readers have made all of the above possible for me.  As I've written before, HCTD is easily the best thing that's happened in my life.  I love it too much to just abandon it.

This announcement has gotten much longer than I wanted, so I'll end it by thanking all of you once again for your readership and support.  It means more to me than I could ever say or write.

I've respected Evil Wine since I discovered it two years ago, and my respect has only deepened since then.  Their penchant for smart, raunchy, left-of-center fare has been an invaluable addition to the Boise scene; I've thought of them sometimes as the moon to Duck Club Presents' sun.  Also, I've been impressed by how Wes Malvini and Dustin Jones conduct themselves professionally.

I meant to write about last year's Evil Wine Carnival, but between hitting the live shows hard all summer and learning the ropes at a new job, I was good and burned out at the time (I had a small meltdown at the end of the Carnival that I still regret).  Anyway, I saw this year as a chance to make up for dropping the ball.  I was also happy for the chance to write a feature for the Weekly about Evil Wine (though I made the error of crediting Wes Malvini with starting Gramma's House.  My apologies for that).

I worked a closing shift at the Record Exchange this night, so I got down to the VaC late.  Although I missed quite a few of the musical acts and didn't get to see anybody play any of the games, between seventy and eighty people were still there when I arrived.

Highlights (of what I saw/heard, anyway):

Drinking Contest--Held during Glenn Mantang's set (agreeably trashy punk rock).  Winner Tina B. managed to down a bowl of beer before Mantang and backing band finished the song "Malt Licker."  As I recall, she was still vertical and going strong for much of the Carnival's remainder.  Girl's a viking.

Outside after his set, I overheard this quote from Glenn Mantang to his boss: "I will be there [with] eyes closed!  Cuz I don't ever call in hung over, Rich!  I call in sick!"

Scantily clad Dustin Jones and Wes Malvini--Because it just isn't an Evil Wine Carnival if these two keep their clothes on.

Carnival Games--I didn't play them, but just looking at them made me grin.  My favorite was Birth Your Savior, which involves reaching inside the Virgin Mary and trying to extract Jesus from among the other icons (Buddha, etc.).  Erin Nelson from the Rediscovered Bookshop showed me her slightly discolored hand as proof that she'd tried this one out.

This game was a very close second.

Headless Pez--When I interviewed him, Dustin Jones expressed particular excitement about this four-man Portland metal band.  Seeing them, I could understand why.  Between the dildo-pentagram backdrop, the abs drawn in Sharpie on the lead singer's belly, the bassist's ass-less chaps and song titles like "Handy Dandy Butt Candy" and "Dr. Bonerstein," this group could've sprung out of an episode of The Evil Wine Show.  Their impressive chops--squiggly guitar noise, relentless riffing, machine-gun kick drum, banshee-wail vocals--made them even funnier.

Some quotes from this set:

"This next song's about boners!  And Satan!"
"This song's called Power Death it's by Pantera f*ck you!"
"I totally forgot the words!  Hahaha!"
"Shut the f*ck up!  This part's pretty!  Shut up!"

Introducing their final number, a song about a gay skeleton: "He's scarier than a normal skeleton because he'll butt-f*ck you!"

Kitchen--Twin Falls trio.  Good stuff--strong beat, harshly catchy tunes, snarling distortion, caterwauling vocals.  Worth hearing again, I thought (though admittedly, I'd had a fair amount to drink by this point).

Matthew and Charlotte Vorhies--I didn't get to see this guy play with Storie Grubb and the Holy Wars, but he and his wife deserve a mention here because they were just too damn adorable.  I mean, c'mon, look at them.

The Voodoo Organist--Woulda been worth the price of admission by himself.  Tongue-in-cheek horror-movie melodies and lyrics (song titles: "Do the Zombie," "Vampire Empire"), charmingly sepulchral vocals, rockin' organ and theremin solos (flying hands and feet).

Andy D--"I got drunk a couple of hours ago," Andy D said at the start of his set.  "I'm gonna burn out the rest of my drunkenness onstage."  And so he did, belting and gyrating and dropping off the stage to dance with the crowd (just the guys, though--didn't want to piss off Victoria D/Anna Vision, maybe).  The crowd stayed with him, grooving out to such irresistible numbers as "New Addiction," "Angels on the Dancefloor" and "Hey Tina (Pick Up the Phone)" (possibly my new favorite).  If Evil Wine had done nothing other than bring this act to Boise, it would've justified its existence.

During this set, a dude from Headless Pez gave me a hug from behind, grabbed my crotch and handed me a sticker.  Made my night.

Tartufi--A late but welcome addition to the Carnival.  Aside from a couple of small slip-ups, this San Francisco trio sounded as roiling and tuneful as ever.  Listening to them again, I was struck by the warm, expansive spirit of this group's music.  It could've been the audience; Lynne Tartufi said at one point that they loved Boise "probably more than San Francisco, but don't tell them that."  Like I've said before, they oughtta just buy a house here.

You can find info on the various acts and Evil Wine on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Very special thanks to Wes Malvini, Dustin Jones and Evil Wine.

Tartufi, Red Hands Black Feet and Phantahex @ Neurolux (8/28/12)

Tartufi's solid performance at the Crux on Sunday got me curious to see what they'd do with this headlining gig, but what really attracted me to this show was Red Hands Black Feet.  They've been busy lately: they returned from a successful first tour earlier this month, and they're working to get their first album released soon.  With this big a head of steam worked up, no way was I gonna miss their first proper gig since they got back.

I counted about twenty people inside when I showed up with a friend.  That number would almost triple by the time that Red Hands Black Feet took the stage.

First up this night was Phantahex a.k.a. Tristan Andreas and Grant Olsen.  Their fascinating, slightly ominous experimental music sounded more aggressive and dissonant than I remember it sounding at Tom Grainey's.  Perhaps they just didn't want to sound like dithering wimps next to the other two acts.  In any case, Tristan Andreas stroked and banged out some Industrial-strength buzzsaw noise, deceptively soothing riffs and disorienting, polyrhythmic loops on his monochord.  Grant Olsen's synthesizer set-up rippled and blared.  Some of the crowd clearly wasn't feeling this stuff (including my friend), but I liked it fine.

Red Hands Black Feet took the stage next.  As with Finn Riggins, touring seems to have done this group a lot of good: Eric Larson and Jake Myers' intertwining guitars, Joseph Myers's basslines and Jessica Johnson's drumming all showed an astonishing increase in finesse while retaining their fundamental raw power.  The already strong rapport between the four members seemed to have reached an almost subliminal level.  The crowd moved in close and cheered wildly, and not without good reason: in its own unassuming way, this set was almost as powerful as their Treefort performance.

For their headlining set, Tartufi played much of the same material from last Sunday's set at the Crux but with greater intensity and impact.  You could maybe chalk that up to a mixture of the Neurolux's sound system, a desire to show up the openers and the adulation of the larger crowd.  In any case, their bright, airy guitar, their tough, twangy bass and their kinetic drums all sounded in top form.  Not only that, I could actually hear the lyrics on a couple of songs (including an encore number which they once again invited Lisa Simpson from Finn Riggins to sing on).  Didn't sound too bad at all, if maybe a bit ungainly (it's kinda hard to shoehorn "From the fish fields of the north Pacific" into a soothing, ambient tune).

You can find info on Red Hands Black Feet and Tartufi on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Radio Boise.

Learning Team, Finn Riggins, Tartufi and No Paws @ the Crux (8/26/12)

Sheesh.  I know Tartufi likes to play Boise, but this was just ridiculous: in addition to headlining last Tuesday's Radio Boise show at Neurolux, they picked up this gig at the Crux.  Like I said once before, oughtta just buy a house here.  But hey, I wasn't gonna knock seeing them and one of Boise's finest again, not to mention a couple of out-of-state acts who were new to me.

A friend and I got down there good and early, having seen an announcement on Facebook that the show would start promptly at 7.  That may have been the plan, but I should've trusted on one of the cardinal rules of rock and roll: no concert EVER starts right on time.  On the plus side, the extra hour that it took for things to get underway allowed me to watch a very respectable crowd build up.

The Bellingham, WA band Learning Team kicked off the evening.  I might need to doublecheck some of the science trivia that they dropped thoughout their set (can you really train a dog to sniff out lung cancer?), but the high quality of their music was unquestionable.  Alex Vlahosotiros's warm cello added a serene, yearning tone to this group's mix of dreamy melodies, jangly riffs, zooming basslines and no-nonsense drumming.  Their confident groove got the people dancing and clapping to the beat.

After Learning Team came Finn Riggins.  The bit of touring that they've done around the Northwest lately seems to have tightened them up but good: Cameron Bouiss's full-throttle drums, Eric Gilbert's flowing keyboard and synth and Lisa Simpson's strong, lovely voice and guitar all sounded in peak form.  This night's set provided ample proof, were any needed, that this trio is still one of Idaho's flagship bands.  They skanked through the inexhaustible "Benchwarmers" without the technical difficulties that marred their Pre-Fat Block Party set, and their instrumental barn-burner and "Big News" got everyone in the Crux moving.

Tartufi followed Finn Riggins with a slightly mellower and more playful set than I was used to from them.  Of course, that doesn't mean I wasn't grateful that I brought my earplugs.  Their serene melodies and harmonies rode atop undulant guitar lines, thick basslines and powerhouse drumming.  A highlight of their set was one gorgeous number where they invited Finn Riggins back onstage to play and sing along.

Oh yeah, and about that pink gorilla outfit... If you go to Finn Riggins' FB page, you'll have a nice chuckle.  That's all I'm gonna write.

Not many folks stuck around to watch No Paws, which was really too bad.  To their credit, however, the Riverside, CA band didn't seem to let the reduced crowd faze them and turned in a rousing finale to the night.  Their charmingly plain vocals, gentle keyboard parts, airily chiming guitar, tuneful basslines and fierce, unstoppable drumming made me think a little of what New Order might sound like if they tried to recapture the raw energy of their Warsaw days.  A nice combination: rowdy yet soothing.

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

Hospitality, Here We Go Magic, Tartufi and Yeah Great Fine @ the Reef (5/24/12)

This show marked what may prove a turning point for me: I actually wore earplugs.  It seemed prudent, considering the massiveness of Tartufi's sound, the modest size of the Reef's concert space and the necessity of retaining what remains of my hearing to keep this blog going.  The joys of getting older and more responsible.

A couple of hours prior to the show at the Reef, I stopped by the Record Exchange and checked out part of their celebration of Bob Dylan's 71st birthday.  Some personal highlights: Catherine Merrick and Kayleigh Jack's sultry "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight," a "Things Have Changed" that featured some bad-ass wah-wah fiddle soloing, and Steve Fulton's desolate "Mama, You've Been On My Mind."  Best in show: John Hansen's majestic "Bob Dylan's Dream," which showed the young whippersnappers how it's done.

I got down to the Reef around 8:15.  The posters said that the show started at 8, which in rock and roll time usually means 8:30 or 8:40.  As it turned out, the show didn't start until around 10.  Sheesh.  Being unemployed pays off sometimes.  Still, when the show actually started, I couldn't complain much.

Four-person Brooklyn group Hospitality opened the show with some tough, tuneful indie-folk-rock.  They adorned their impeccable pop melodies with sharp guitar solos, elastic bass and high-powered drumming.  Amber Papini's breathy voice made up in shrewdness for what it may have lacked in range and power.  Their set included a solid cover of Steely Dan's "Rikki Don't Lose That Number", and their original songs didn't sound any worse for it.  A good start to the concert.

After Hospitality came Here We Go Magic, another four-person group from Brooklyn.  The Facebook event page for this show mentioned that HWGM can count Thom Yorke and Nigel Godrich among their fans.  That gave me some trepidation initially--I am NOT a big Radiohead fan--but in this case, I'm glad that I let my curiosity overcome my prejudices.  This band's African-derived groove, ethereal guitars and catchy chants might have cheered up Ian Curtis himself.  "I believe in action," lead singer Luke Temple sang, and they made the audience believe too (lotsa folks were feeling the beat).  Extra kudos to Jen Turner, whose thick, rubbery basslines served as the music's bedrock and secret weapon.

Tartufi took the stage after Here We Go Magic.  I was grateful for the chance to see this San Francisco-based group again: I enjoyed their previous live performances immensely but, to my surprise, found myself left a little cold by some of their recorded music.  The problem came, I think, not so much from the music itself but from the fact that I listened to it on my laptop's dinky speakers.  In order for Tartufi's powerful art-rock to really work, it needs to flood your senses.  It might be better to listen to it on headphones or on a stereo system with really bitchin' surround sound.

The best way to take in Tartufi, however, is live.  In concert, this band generates a feeling of almost religious awe.  The audiences at the shows that I've attended tend to stand still, look at the stage and let the music wash over them.  The band's generally undemonstrative stage presence seems to add to this feeling: as they solemnly deliver their loops, hooks, riffs and tunes, it's almost as if the music is flowing through them from some otherworldly source.  I suspect that Tartufi knows on some level the effect that they create: it can't be accidental that they've closed the two previous live shows that I've seen with a retooled Hebrew hymn.  This night's set ended with an original composition (I think) but generated the same feeling nonetheless.  I wonder what Tartufi would come up with if someone asked them to score a film adaptation of The Divine Comedy.

Yeah Great Fine, a five-man indie-rock band from Portland, closed out the night.  They thanked what remained of the audience after Tartufi's set for staying up so late, and their idiosyncratic funkiness definitely kept these stalwart folks awake.  The band's mock-cowboy outfits stood out in jokey contrast to the African base of their music.  Staccato guitar lines, dreamy keyboards, unobtrusive basslines and jazzy, boiling drums hopped and bopped around with each other, and both band and listeners did likewise.  Yeah Great Fine's set concluded with a joyous cover of Fugazi's "Waiting Room," which they prefaced by inviting everyone to sing along if they knew the words.  I thought it very much to the audience's credit that a big chunk of them did (they were one up on me: I didn't recognize the song until close to the end).

You can find info about these groups on Facebook and elsewhere online.  Also, to those of you who disapprove of my not considering Radiohead the greatest thing in the history of recorded sound: any complaints must be submitted in the form of crappy emo poetry.

PS  Very special thanks to Eric Gilbert and Duck Club Presents.