Live Reviews ,July 1999

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CAGED HEAT, WIDE IRIS The Usual 6/19/99

I get to The Usual in Lowell early enough to polish off
two beers and two games of pool before Caged Heat start churning out their enthralling
punk blues. The Usual is a spacious multi-roomed complex offering food, darts, Keno and,
oddly, though it lacks a PA it does have an impressive light board complete with
um, a disco ball. The industrious Caged Heat bring along a PA, as well as most of the
small but enthusiastic crowd. The demographic is easy to spot—everyone not glued to
the Buffalo/ Dallas game is a Caged Heat or Wide Iris fan. Caged Heat starts off with the
turbulent “Hearts are Flying,” and I hear one of the stool warmin’ sports
fans declare, “Hey, this is…some blues.” Ya think? Though the “new
guy” Kyle looks absolutely comfortable on guitar, the rest of the Heats aren’t
playing as tight as I know they can. The transitions are rocky tonight, and occasionally
Jill’s guitar and Ando’s bass seem unable to catch up with Scott’s drums.
No matter, they have fun and rock the place anyway.

Wide Iris is a hard-working trio that plays every song
fast and furious with an almost puberty-charged zeal. Vocally, these boys mix a fondness
for shouting with a penchant for yelling—and uh, a seemingly uncontrollable desire to
spit on the floor. Never having seen these guys before, I can’t tell if they’re
goofing off tonight, or if this is the act. They’re having a blast, in any case! At
the end of the manic and funny “The Shape I’m In,” drummer Matt tells lead,
uh, singer (also Matt) to “sober up!” Sid Vicious would be proud. Me, I need
another beer. (Lexi)

 

THE PUSH STARS, THE GRAVEL PIT

(WBCN River Rave) Tweeter Center 5/30/99

You know your band’s doing pretty well when you
play on the same bill as Live, Sugar Ray, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Such was the case
for two local groups at this year’s WBCN River Rave at Great Woo… I mean the,
ahem, Tweeter Center. As they do with their Xmas Rave, ’BCN worked a few hometown
bands into the mix to give the event a little local flavor. This year’s Rave featured
local-boys-done-good The Push Stars and The Gravel Pit (or “The Gravel Fuckin’
Pit” as one excited fan put it during the show).

The Push Stars opened on the main stage with their brand
of clever pop songs featuring big bass grooves, chiming ’80s guitar sounds, and
rapid, spoken word-like vocals. There were hints of early U2 on the catchy, uptempo
“Moving Target” and the fiery “One Summer Day.” Other highlights were
the REM-ish “Minnesota” (think “End of the World As We Know It”) and
the simple pop hooks and shiny guitar sound of “Any Little Town.” The
musicianship was first rate, but the some of the songs sounded almost exactly like other
songs in the set.

Playing on the appropriately named “Pit” Stage
amid trees, a huge skateboard park and moshing fans, The Gravel Pit turned in a mostly
roaring set of edgy rock ’n’ roll. From the alternately bluesy and spacey
jamming of “Boys in the House” to ’60s-style garage rocker
“Favorite” (which is getting some serious airplay), The Gravel Pit turned in one
of the best overall sets of the day. How they played in full dress suits in 95-degree
weather, I’ll never know. But Jed Parish had the raspy vocals and swirling keyboards
going full-tilt while the rest of the band was in top form. There were searing guitar
solos, pounding bass runs, and machine gun drum fills. Some of the songs even featured
some nice tempo builds and tempo changes for a little variety. Bring ’em back next
year, I say. (Mick Emmett)

 

JANKE, CURIO, DEREK SCHANCHE (of Señor Happy)

Kendall Cafe 6/24/99

Derek Schanche was first up on stage, armed only with an
acoustic guitar, a sackfull of songs and a humble greeting. His full-time band Señor
Happy has proven they can rock out, then turn around and kick up some serious country
honk, so what is a singer to do without champion players by his side? Quite simply, Derek
took it easy tonight, reached deep into his bag of songs and delivered them coolly and
honestly to a captive audience. The approach was simple and it worked, making for a great
set. The standout was a stripped-down version of “Rainy Day Failed Mission,” a
perfectly-penned folk song reminiscent of Roky Erikson’s early field recordings. This
particular set was back to basics folk blues without the big band rock behind it,
revealing once and for all the man behind the curtain, like JoJo without the Modern
Lovers, a “plea for tenderness.” Or as Derek would say it, “if I could
talk, would you listen?”

And now for something completely different as Curio
introduces drums, electric bass, and guitar to the stage. This band gets their fair share
of press, but it all seems to circle around to the singer’s vocal abilities. I am
going out on a limb here to shift some of the spotlight onto the twin towers in matching
T-shirts: Kevin and Angelo. Cassidy’s bass propels these moody numbers towards the
heavens, providing tone and color where, if left in less capable hands, would be flat and
undynamic. Then there’s Angelo’s chiming guitar work, which comes across as
intricate but not flashy. At times it became a little effect-heavy for my tastes, but who
doesn’t like a lot of syrup on their pancakes, you know? Curio wisely left the synth
in the van tonight, and stuck to songs that for the most part appear on their new CD. A
well-earned round of applause for these melodic minstrels.

I urge every booking agent reading this to take note of
Janke, as they were the surprise treat of the evening. Lead singer Stephanie has real,
God’s honest star quality, a healthy dose of raw vocal talent and is not at all
bashful to show it. Janke drew a great crowd (although mostly soda-sippers) and delivered
tight, danceable rock music that could easily get the kids to jump around if there
weren’t so many dinner tables in the way. At mid-set a friend leaned over and asked,
“but where are the hooks?” I see that point, but they are young and hooks can be
learned. What can’t be learned is how to be a natural, and Stephanie has that down
cold—I noticed the crowd could not take their eyes off of her. This kind of leaves
the boys in the band faceless, but she is not emoting in a purposeful or posed way,
it’s just her style. By the time these kids close with the intensely superb “I
Am Not a Pretty Girl” I had a thought: I wonder if this is what it was like to watch
a young Blondie play their brand of smart, new wave pop diva circa late ’70s, just
when it was all about to explode? Then I do the math in my head and shoot, Janke was
probably just born when Harry first picked up that famous bottle of peroxide. Maybe a few
tiny drops of bleach found their way into Janke’s bloodstream?

(Jordon Catalano)

 

DELTA CLUTCH, MACHINERY HALL The Attic 6/11/99

Delta Clutch had already begun their set as I walked up
the stairs to the Attic in Newton. The reverberations coming through the bar sounded
promising. When I finally reached my destination, I found the guys in Delta Clutch wailing
away to the small crowd that made their way out to Newton early. They had a lot of energy
and were totally into the music—it’s too bad the energy of this five piece was
wasted on a near empty room. Another setback to their performance was that they were a
little too loud for the room. The Attic can quickly turn into a pain cave if the band is
too loud and the wall of sound Delta Clutch sent forth was at times overwhelming. However,
I did like Delta Clutch and would be interested in seeing them again in another setting.

As the night went on, the place quickly filled in.
Everyone and their brother, fraternity brother that is, showed up to see Machinery Hall.
It wasn’t long until the band had all the boys in their backwards baseball caps
grooving along to the heavy power pop. Personally, I thought it sounded a little like
Pearl Jam/ 7 Mary 3/ Creed pseudo alternative grunge crap that radio stations force feed.
Although they didn’t appeal to me, they were very tight and really got the crowd
going.

One weird thing I did notice about the show was that
there were no girls whatsoever in the crowd. The male to female ratio was completely
lopsided, it was almost disturbing. I’m not sure if I would ever want to see this
band again, but they did have a dedicated following of characters straight from the
“keg house” on Beverly Hills 90210. So, I guess, someone out there digs them, it
just isn’t me. (Kier Byrnes)

 

GLASS ATTIC (CD Release), GLINT, THE STEREOTYPES

Century Lounge (Providence, RI) 6/12/99

There is an interesting sadness and desperation to the
songs of The Stereotypes. They weave melodic, lush, and noisy guitars through tribal
drums, with a singer who has a very peculiar way of singing, like The Wedding
Present’s Gedge. From the reaction of those around me, I can tell that they’re
not into the band. Their presence was nil, mostly standing still and
slouching—visually uninteresting. If The Stereotypes are into the Hovercraft thing,
then they should develop some visuals, because the music is too melancholy and slow to
just stand there.

Glint opens with “Phaedrus,” a long but
beautiful song with intricate, psychedelic guitar work. Their singer, Jeremy O’Neill,
holds the audience’s attention, with a raspy/ meaty voice and a presence larger than
the club. The guitar swirls. The melodic bass is augmented by a mountain of effects. Other
standouts are “Shine,” “Reason,” and “Strange Worlds of
Shame.” Their music has sex to it, a unique sensuality along the lines of Radiohead
or The Verve.

Glass Attic’s sound is a mix of Blur, Oasis, and
Britpop done right. They put on an energetic set, kicking off with “Feel Alive,”
a pop song, sung with a ton of energy from all five members of the band. Singer Jeff
Byrd’s vocals are a cross between Liam Gallagher and Damon Albarn minus the accent.
He works the crowd in a very Springsteen-esque manner. “Empty Nothing” and
“Rubber Band” rock with Oasis influenced guitars, the latter with well-placed
harmonica solos. The night is a success for Glass Attic, and the two bands that supported
them. (Jeannie Disco)

 

MICHIGAN BLACKSNAKE, THE BROTHERS FIZZ

The Middle East 6/11/99

I only caught the tail end of the Brothers Fizz’
set and am sorry I didn’t catch more. Their immaculately tight vocal harmonies and
power chord driven pop-rock vibe instantly reminded me of “Where are they now?”
’80s pop stars The Tubes, or even classic rock icons Boston at times. Restrained but
clearly evident chops, clean cut visage, ear-catching hooks, and, of course, those killer
harmonies. To overcome the limitations of the small, generally inarticulate sound system
in the Middle East’s upstairs with such powerfully lush, piercing and above all clear
vocal harmonies is an impressive accomplishment. If you like your hooks obvious, your
vocals high and strong, your songs tailored by the wisdom of less-is-more craftsmanship;
go see this band. I certainly will.

Michigan Blacksnake filled the small stage with a dense
lineup featuring drums/ co-lead vocals, keyboards, bass, two sax players, conga player
and, Greg Luttrell, a guitar slung frontman. I’ve heard comparisons of MB to Lenny
Kravitz, but I’d suggest that they share some of Kravitz’ own influences.
Greg’s use of washy phasing or flange on his beefed up, funky Strat sound screamed of
Curtis Mayfield. Throw in a taste of Marvin Gaye’s smooth vocal soul and Parliament
style funk, and you have a good idea of what MB is about.

The band laid down solid grooves, but I failed to really
get into any of the songs. If they seek more mainstream accessibility, they’ll likely
need to hone their strong individual elements into a more focused package. The horn
section added an easy-listening, fusak element I could’ve done without, but they were
certainly adept players. Ultimately their guitarist/ frontman was the real show with tasty
playing, soulful vocals and mack daddy threads (which the rest of the band could’ve
taken some tips from). It was also a pleasure to see a band pay heed to the wisdom of
experience with their elder percussionist, Glenn Hall, a standout player and powerful
presence. (Danimal)

 

RANDOLPH HIGH SCHOOL JAZZ BAND AND SHOW CHOIR POPS
CONCERT

Randolph, MA High School W. Gym 5/26/99

Hey, it’s “local music,” right? This was
a fine alternative to another night in a smoky bar where everyone, unfortunately, knows
your name. Over the years, this group has won several awards and competitions—not
surprising, since powerhouse drummer Lisa Pimentel is (Heidi) the conductor, and a teacher
at the school. She brings out the best in these kids, and has a ball doing so. Having done
the school-band thing myself, I can tell you that parents and audience were grateful she
doesn’t go the standard route. Members of Bosley and other Boston rock notables were
even spotted in the crowd, if you need some kinda hipness-reference-factor.

It was, of course, a night of “serious” music,
as well as some high camp and corn. The selections themselves deserve special mention (I
assume Pimentel had at least a say in those), as the band tackled many obscure and
challenging pieces in addition to more pedestrian fare like Duke Ellington’s
“Satin Doll.” The vocal segments were far schmaltzier, but they were supposed to
be, and thus cannot be faulted for such, AS such. Plus, it was nice seeing these
kids’ friends go bugfuck for them.

You’re thinking, “He’s lost it. He’s
reviewing high school bands now.” I admit, the idea started as a joke, but you know
what? They played their asses off, and a lot of them are going places. I was at least as
inspired as I was at the last [insert popular band] show at the [insert miserable club],
and that’s what it’s all about. I kept thinking: none of the kids in MY school
band went on to bigger things. Had we been given similar support in our impressionable
youth, instead of the notion that music was just another assembly-line gig, that all might
have changed (and I might not be sitting here just writing about the shit 22 years after
the fact). The Randolph kids, and their mentor, have much to be proud of. (Joe Coughlin)

 

VOLCANO SUNS, BULLET LAVOLTA, TITANICS, VOODOO DOLLS,
MOVING TARGETS, BUSTED STATUES
The Middle East Downstairs 3/27/99

We were somewhere near Central Square on the edge of
Cambridge when the time warp began to take hold. My accountant and I were on our way to
The Middle East restaurant to take in the Pipeline 10th Anniversary show. With the tax
deadline approaching fast and a dizzying swarm of schedules, worksheets, credits and
penalties buzzing around in my feeble brain, I needed a night out and this was just the
thing to make me forget about Schedule C income and the like. My accountant is my savior
and is well-versed in the intricacies of the tax code. He also happens to be well-versed
in the goings on of the Boston music scene. We both agreed that it would probably sell
out, so we arrived early to beat the crowd, have a few beers and get the way-back machine
fired up.

It turned out to be a wise choice because it did get
crowded early. It also allowed us to see all of Busted Statues’ set, the only band
that neither of us had seen in their prime. To my knowledge, they never released an album,
but there are some recordings available on a couple of different compilations and the
wonderful “Red Clouds/Bo Tree” single which can still be found occasionally. As
a result, a fair portion of the set was unfamiliar to me. It was still captivating. This
is the kind of stuff that, 15 years ago, laid the groundwork for today’s indie rock
but somehow manages to avoid sounding dated in any way. I had no reference point to work
with, but they didn’t seem too rusty for not having played for so long. They held the
growing crowd’s attention throughout the set, and when co-writer Clint Conley joined
them for the big “Red Clouds” finale, it seemed like everyone in the place was
riveted. At the end of the night, as everyone was filing out, I overheard many people
saying,” Wow, Busted Statues were REALLY good.” I think they were a big surprise
for many.

When I first got involved in college radio one of my
favorite records was Moving Targets’ Burning in Water. I played the hell out
of it. It was great to hear some of my favorites performed live by the original lineup.
While the recordings are great, they don’t achieve the power of the live sound. Pat
Brady’s drumming is the musical equivalent of a huge locomotive smashing through the
wall of sound that Ken Chambers and Pat Leonard build. At times it is awe inspiring. It
was like no time had passed since I had seen them play at Axis with the Lemonheads many
years ago. They looked happy to be there and exuded confidence and energy. I conferred
with my accountant and we agreed that we may even have heard some new material during this
set. More shows to come? That wouldn’t suck. It was also during their set that I ran
into two people who I knew from the college radio days. The time warp was in full effect
now and my buzz was just starting to get good.

I was coming back from the bar with two beers in my hand
when the Voodoo Dolls broke through the din with a ripping version of the MC5’s
“Rambling Rose,” complete with the crazed “Brothers and Sisters…”
intro rap. It was the perfect way to jump-start their 40 minutes of leather-jacketed
’60s style garage rock. For a moment I felt like I was back at The Rat, with two
beers in hand and my feet sticking to the floor. It was beautiful. If only Carmen the
bitchy barmaid was there to give me the evil eye I think I might have shed a tear.
Instead, I snapped back to the present, swilled my beer and enjoyed the here and now. Dave
Harrison and Evan Shore’s guitars punctuated by Cam Ackland’s wailing rock
harmonica while we were standing directly in front of a huge pile of P.A. speakers… what
more is there to life? I always come away from a Voodoo Dolls show with some song stuck in
your head, and tonight’s was “This Song Is Not For Sale.”

I was really looking forward to seeing The Titanics. I
had only managed to see them once before and it was one of the loudest shows I had ever
experienced. Their album is one of my favorites of all time, though muddy production saps
some of the power from it. The songs, however, are great and to hear them live is a real
treat. They are one of the only bands that knows the true beauty of an E chord held over
eight beats and are probably the closest thing to AC/DC that I can think of. While some of
the sound is still available through The Upper Crust, it was refreshing to hear it without
all the gimmicky pomp and circumstance. The Titanics’ set made me wish they were
still around doing this material. They were in great form, despite a couple of tuning
issues early in the set, and got great reviews from everyone I talked to.

I had heard that Yukki Gipe was to join Moving Targets
to do some Bullet LaVolta material. I was disappointed when he never materialized during
the Moving Targets set but soon realized they were going to do a full-blown thing. Yay!
The added power of Marky Mussel on second guitar just helped to drive it over the top.
While Bullet LaVolta’s material may not count as crafty songwriting, they always
delivered it with so much oomph that it was larger than the sum of its parts. Though he
may not be a great singer, Yukki Gipe is one of the best frontmen I’ve ever seen. His
sheer spastic energy is a sight to see and was a large part of the whole Bullet LaVolta
mystique. The fact that Ken Chambers was (I think) the only other member who was actually
in Bullet LaVolta didn’t really matter much. My buzz was peaking and I shot right up
to the front of the stage. I had flashbacks to several Channel and Paradise shows I had
seen and felt a strong urge to stage dive. The stage at the Middle East is too low to get
any real altitude, so I settled for head banging instead. At the end of the set they
segued from the Bad Brains’ “Pay to Cum” into a Zeppelin song. It was a
perfect illustration of what made Bullet LaVolta cool. They were able to blend the urgency
of hardcore with an arena rock sound. The crowd’s response was as intense as the
performance. Afterward, my accountant suggested they might look into a Duke Roth I.R.A.

It had been a long night of music already and there was
still the Volcano Suns to go. This was the line-up that made their last few records, with
David Kleilor and Bob Weston complementing Peter Prescott’s inspired lunacy. They did
songs from Thing of Beauty and Career in Rock as well as older material
going back as far as the first album.

Maybe it was the late hour (many in attendance
aren’t 21 anymore) or the last train syndrome but some people started to clear out
after Bullet LaVolta’s set. Perhaps it was that the Volcano Suns are a band some
people love and some people don’t. The thing I always liked about the Suns was their
ability to walk the line between pure pop and harsh noise. Their music can be alternately
scary and beautiful, often within the same song, and would not qualify as easy listening,
especially at the end of the night. They had a tendency to slow the set down with banter
and noisy excursions, but just when it was almost too much they’d come back into a
brilliant song like “Jak” or “Barricade” and make it all right again.
It was just like I remembered it in the old days seeing them at Bunratty’s.

It was late and the time warp had worn off. All that was
left to do was return to the present and grab a couple of slices at Hi-Fi. My accountant
and I headed over with another friend to eat greasy pizza and critique the show and talk
about taxes and whatnot. We decided that with bands like this, it was a given that the
night would be a success. Bob Dubrow (WMBR’s Pipeline/ Kimchee Records) managed to
bring together some of the best bands in the history of local rock for a celebration of
one of the longest running local music shows in town. Let’s hope it lasts another ten
years. (Bruce Allen)

 

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