The Social Electric, Brown Shoe, Kat Jones and Minor Birds @ the Shredder (4/8/13)

Why do I do this to myself?

I'd marked this show down on the calendar, but as the day approached, I felt like taking a small break from this blog.  I'd halfway convinced myself to go hang out at the Crux's open mic instead.  Then I checked the names under "Sounds Like" on each out-of-town act's Reverb Nation page.  Band of Horses, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Siouxie and the Banshees, Tori Amos, hmm...  Then I listened to a couple of each act's songs.  "Great," I said afterwards.  "Now I have to go to this show."

Apparently, no one else wrestled with the decision to check out this concert (or they just didn't hear about it).  I counted three non-musicians when I got to the Shredder.  In all, I don't think that more than ten or eleven people showed up over the course of the night.

Minor Birds, a duo from Twain Harte, CA, opened the show.  In a way, I suppose that the meager crowd suited this group's music.  Not that it was especially esoteric: Joel Wilde's groaning stand-up bass and Chelsea Wilde's guitar and keyboard riffs were hypnotic in their simplicity.  It's more that, between the indigo melodies, the disquieting lyrics and Chelsea Wilde's swooning, somber wail, this set felt charged with a certain fraught intimacy.  This was music for dark nights of the soul.  Not that the musicians themselves were particularly gloomy: Joel Wilde's luchador mask felt more humorous than menacing, and Chelsea Wilde punctuated the set with loads of playful, self-deprecating, slightly loopy banter.  She told the tale of having her guitar stolen in Denton, TX and needing to pay the pawn shop to get it back in a tone that was much more WTF? than woe-is-me.

Portland musician Kat Jones played next.  "Um, yeah," she said early on.  "So I'm here to guide you through the apocalypse."  That's pretty much what her music felt like.  There wasn't a hint of cheese or cornpone in Jones's eerie folk/country tunes and aching, sinister, powerful vocals.  Her strong sense of rhythm further accentuated the cast-a-cold-eye feel of this set.  Even the songs that weren't part of the murder ballad section made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  Genuinely haunting.  Not humorless, though: Jones loaded the set with plenty of dry banter.  She introduced one murder ballad, "Luckily the Gun Did Not Go Off," took a beat, then added, "It kind of did."

After Kat Jones came Brown Shoe.  Commitment and perseverance count for a lot.  If you play a show with just a handful of people watching and you still give it your all, you'll get my respect at the very least.  So I'd be inclined to look kindly upon this group from the perspiration that soaked frontman Aaron Baggaley's hair and shirt alone.

Sweat wasn't all that they had going for them, however.  Bright, misty guitars, winsomely anthemic tunes and Baggaley's smooth, yearning tenor combined with pained lyrics, fluid basslines and surging drums to create a sound that was at once airy and roiling, turbulent and dreamy.  According to the bio on Brown Shoe's Facebook page, they've been compared to Sigur Ros, My Morning Jacket and R.E.M.  I could hear all of that in there.  I'll add, though, that, except for R.E.M., I like these guys a lot more.

Local group the Social Electric (formerly known as St. Helens) closed out the night.  I thought that these guys were outstanding when I saw them open for New York City Queens back in February.  Good to see that I wasn't wrong.  Mark Jensen's light voice and delicate, ringing keyboard, Joe Atchley's fleet-fingered, face-melting guitar work and Ben Clingan's intricate, propulsive drumming provided a fine finale to this show.  They had indelible melodies and well-honed arrangements to spare, but they still rocked hard.  If they can find a bassist (or figure out a way to fill in the bottom end of their sound, at least), they'll be unstoppable.

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

New York City Queens, Fort Harrison, St. Helens and Iconoplasty @ the Shredder (2/7/13)

If you're a band from Texas, it takes some chutzpah to call yourselves something like New York City Queens.  That and a couple of songs that I'd heard by them got me interested in checking out this Shredder show.

Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to share my curiosity.  I counted five people when I got to the Shredder. That number included me, Josh Gross's ladyfriend and Bubba, the guy taking the money at the door.  When New York City Queens played, a whopping ten people saw them.  Most of them were members of the other bands.  Oh well.  Hopefully, the people who could've been here were over at Sammy's for their relaunch celebration.

Iconoplasty a.k.a. local writer/musician Josh Gross opened the night.  His stomping 4/4 beats and tapestry of  looped riffs and licks sounded as enjoyable as they did at the San Francesca show back in November.  The various elements didn't always hit exactly on the beat, but that just gave the music an agreeably human feel.

Up next was new local group St. Helens.  This trio's groove was impressively assured, especially considering that this was their second gig ever.  Gentle melodies, lovelorn lyrics and clean, soaring vocals blended with anthemic choruses, quicksilver guitar and muscular, effortlessly intricate drumming.  They had enough chops to maybe give prog a go, but their songwriting was pop-wise enough to keep things from feeling too noodling or indulgent.  The meager crowd called for an encore at the end of this set, but lead singer Mark Jensen reminded them that they were just the openers.  If they keep playing and writing at this level, however, they might not be for too long.

Local band Fort Harrison played next.  I've known of this group for a while, but this was my first time seeing them.  They made quite a first impression: gritty, raspy vocals and harshly elegant guitar fused with sly basslines and nimble, hard-hitting drums.  Their reggae groove was no less impressive than their metal barrage, and their throat-shredding shouts didn't conceal how catchy their tunes were.  They got some well-earned whoops and cheers from the audience.

New York City Queens closed out the night.  Out of the many 60's-70's appropriators that I've seen lately, this group has to be one of the shrewdest.  Their chiming, jangling, clanging, buzzing wall of guitars was equal parts Phil Spector and Sonic Youth.  Their dreamy melodies and angelic harmonies floated over it, their bass wormed under it and their drums punched right through it.  Thunderously fragile--an odd yet beguiling mix.  Even better, their lyrics held up pretty well when I listened to their recordings afterwards.  The only potential liability, recorded or live, was lead singer John Stephens's pinched, affected delivery.  Sometimes, it seemed to suit the material perfectly; at other times, it felt so smarmy that I gritted my teeth.  Regardless, I hope that this group comes back around sometime and plays to a larger audience.

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

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.

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

Hi Ho Silver Oh, Charlyne Yi and LeAnnimal @ Neurolux; Bugman's Burkeback Mtn. Benefit/Drunk Tank Extravaganza @ the Shredder (1/25/13)

I'm a sucker for interesting names, and Hi Ho Silver Oh and LeAnnimal interested me.  With names like those, of course, the risk is that the groups will prove so cutesy-poo that they'll make my dinner come up.  Still, I'd never seen any of the acts on this bill before, so I swung down to Neurolux.

I counted about thirty people when I arrived.  The crowd would build to about forty by the time that Hi Ho Silver Oh played.  Pretty modest for a Friday night, but there was a lot of other stuff happening around town (see below for an example).

LeAnnimal opened the show.  These days, it seems like you can't throw a rock without hitting a fluttery-voiced songstress who comes bearing some lullaby melodies and some oddball, sweet-and-sour lyrics.  Still, this local musician had enough smarts and shy, spunky charm to get over.  Maybe she could just work on not banging the mic with her guitar and ukulele.  And maybe she could go easy with the lyrics about the Lost Boys too.

Charlyne Yi played next.  It was the smirk that did it.  That little touch of self-satisfaction, of saying, "Look how cute and funny I'm being!"  That was what pushed me over the line from thinking, "Well, this is kinda funny and the drummer's good and the riffs are decent and this girl ain't no kinda singer but I'll roll with it" to thinking, "I paid money for this shit?"  I should add, though, that most everyone else in the crowd seemed to feel that they got their five dollars' worth.  A bunch of people stood close to the stage and danced and laughed and clapped along to Yi's tone-deaf, excruciating cover of "Georgia on My Mind."

Hi Ho Silver Oh closed out the night at Neurolux.  It's nice when your patience gets rewarded.  This Los Angeles group's mix of sinuous basslines, bouncy drumming, glittering dual guitars and ringing harmonies was worth much more than the $5 cover charge.  Their pop-tunes were as tasty and their beats as danceable as you could want, but they could churn the sludge and crank out the distortion too.  This was their first time in Boise, they said.  Hope it won't be their last.

After Hi Ho Silver Oh wrapped up, I headed over to the Shredder to check out the benefit for Jason Burke a.k.a. "Bug," a local musician/scene regular who injured his back in a sledding accident.  I was happy to see over forty people there showing their support.  I caught a pretty good set by local punk trio Radillac and a pretty great one by Hotel Chelsea, but honestly, the music was beside the point.  Hopefully, Bug's gonna get a nice chunk of change from this shindig.  On that note, if y'all have some money to spare, click here to send some of it Bug's way.

Hotel Chelsea's bassist Mikey Rootnote did not appreciate getting antagonized by a hot-pants-wearing, well-into-his-cups Adam Showalter (a.k.a. local mock-gangsta act Sword of a Bad Speller).  However, I'm sure he appreciated Showalter getting dunked in the water tank set up behind the Shredder.  Showalter still stuck around afterwards to groove out to Hotel Chelsea's set.

Next time people think about talking smack about Josh Gross, they should consider this: the man was willing to strip down to his boxers and get dunked in water in the middle of winter to help raise money for an uninsured convalescent.  That's gotta count for something.

You can find info on the groups in this post on Facebook and elsewhere online.  And again, if you'd like to contribute to Bug's recovery fund, click here.