PLAYGROUND BOSTON

Progressive rock bands always receive far too much stick than they really should.  Yeah, they are the easy targets – the geek who whiled away afternoons diligently practicing their craft while the metal bands chased girls and smoked pot out in the woods.  Perhaps because of their musical proficiency, this collective jealousy has slowly calcified into outright disdain and dislike.  I’ve got more than my generous helping of primitive rock records in my collection, and I cannot deny that the 70s punks had good measure to rally around a new musical form, but on the other hand I cannot argue against the merits of King Crimson, Van der Graaf Generator, and Yes.  When you’ve a band which can meld together a massively complex musical vision without losing the primal urge to rock, well you’ve got a winner by all accounts I can come up with.

As a band who’s cresting a thirty year career, they have certainly had their share of membership shifts, with bassist Chris Squire being the lone mainstay throughout.  Due to absence of singer Jon Anderson, some fans may have wanted to downgrade Yes to Maybe, but newcomer Benoit David more than held his own against the massive expectations, and had I been blindfolded I doubt I’d have recognized that it was not Anderson singing (except during breaks between songs when David’s Quebecois accent was readily apparent.) The other deviation from the main core of Howe/Squire/White was on keyboards; instead of Rick Wakeman his son Oliver dutifully made use of the half-dozen or so keyboards that surrounded him. easily moving between bombastic organ blasts, deftly-fingered piano, squiggly synth bleats and plangent textures.

For me the clear strengths of the band lie in the intricate guitar work that Howe provides effortlessly, and the rock-bottom and totally distinctive bass style that Squire employs.  On signature songs like “Heart of the Sunrise” and “Roundabout,” he carries the melody line and allows Howe plenty of room for tight riffing (”South Side of the Sky”), spidery leads (”Siberian Khatru”), or whatever he wants.  Looking a bit like a crazed librarian from a long-lost Victorian branch, his long and delicate fingers had no problems summoning a variety of tones, and he used both pedal steel guitar as well as another electric planted in a waist-high stand to get different tones and textures as the lengthy songs often required. Aside from instrumental prowess, it also struck me that Howe and Squire could also lend some excellent vocal harmonies not unlike CSNY.

I’ve heard that some long-time fans lamented the appearance of a lot of familiar songs but as a neophyte to the Yes live show, I was more than happy with the selections that spanned their second record (”Astral Traveler”) to the prime-era radio hits (”I’ve Seen All Good People”) to some of the latter day work such as the Anderson-less material from Drama (”Tempus Fugit,” “Machine Messiah”) and of course their big MTV breakthrough “Owner of Lonely Heart.” …Well, I could definitely have lived without that one.  As the band wrapped up with arguably their best song “Starship Trooper” (it’s my favorite anyways, and Keith Levene copped to using this as direct inspiration for Public Image Limited’s “Poptones”) it also became clear that while Yes fans can and do indulge in any amount of air guitar/drums/bass/keyboards they want, it’s more of a tricky minefield to attempt any sort of sing-alongs to match the vocal range, a point brazenly driven home by the guy next to me, warbling off-key at the top of his lungs.

All photos by Tim Bugbee at Tinnitus Photography. For a complete photo gallery from this show, click here

YES

A three-way marriage.

That’s legal in Massachusetts, right?

Well, that’s exactly what you get out of The Indobox’s Adventure Rock:  a three-way marriage of electric, electronic, and acoustic as they switch at will from the passionately organic to the grindingly distorted and onward to the pleasantly & head-bobbing-ly danceable.

That also means there’s no way to single out any one instrumentalist or even vocalist.

Quinn Ferree’s natural drums give way periodically to drum-machine sounds that ramp up and down in the backdrop of tracks like “Reading,” and “Part II.”  Guitars provide stabbing rhythms and monolithic chords in the background while bright synth lines decorate a track. At other times, those same guitarists take the front seat, dial on the delay, and swim their way into your ears. The vocal styles and sounds also change throughout the record thanks to multiple singers, making for a further varied experience.

There’re rumors of a “jam” aspect to this band, and I intend to investigate this at their live show at Harper’s Ferry on February 6th. Not being a big jam-band fan (locked in a miasmic studio during the Disco Biscuits’ Señor Boombox sessions was not exactly my idea of a good time), I still find that it’s nice to pick up an album and not just hear the same song played at different tempos (if you’re lucky) by a band. It’s similarly very refreshing to digest a different atmosphere every time a track goes by.  Some bands just play the show onto the tape, but The Indobox really seem to shoot for a superhuman experience that gives fans something different to enjoy on their own speakers and headphones. Be prepared to go on a minor journey during the electro-arpeggiated interlude midway through “Part II,” and transverse to a guitar-rock stadium at the finale of “The Deep.” Give yourself time to listen through the entire record -you’ll be well rewarded as “Cinema For Children” infects your brain with catchy guitar-chirps and more great vocal textures & melodies on your way out into the world.

That all being said….

What this album has:

- Great melodies from guitars and keyboards (be they punchy, swirling, or spacy) to keep your ears following new hooks in between vocal lines

- Great vocal sounds and the occasional lyric that sticks out in an ephemeral, “This guys gets me!” kind of way

- Grooves, grooves, grooves

What this album needs:

More songs that meld everyone’s talents together.  Making these flips from one flavor to another, one vocalist to another, from guitar- to synth-driven, and from ambient to raw is very unique, but I’d like at least one or two tracks to turn me on my head and collide all elements of the record together. This would make a more cohesive tapestry of all of the group’s styles and sounds….  a little like that rug that really ties the room together.

Boston-based fans of such bands as Primal Scream, Stereolab, and South will find themselves pleased at some of our own boys doing such a bang-up job of providing something more honest and tangible than just another over-polished, emo/punk/alt/rock/hop/dance single-after-single.

Want to check out The Indobox for yourself? They’re playing Saturday, February 6th at Harpers Ferry in Allston. Tickets can be purchased here, or click here to take advantage of the ticket giveaway we’re featuring on our site!

Buy Adventure Rock on iTunes or CDbaby

The Indobox

Some of the best local rock bands Boston has to offer were joined at the Middle East by the Philadelphia synth-pop trio Conservative Man. The bill was a celebration of the release of CM’s brand new self-titled EP, subject of some serious buzz over the last few weeks from various media outlets.

‘This Blue Heaven’ took the stage right around 9:30pm and were a pleasure to hear. I came away from their set thinking Cyndi Lauper meets melodic pop-rock/punk. I couldn’t help but feel a little ‘Motion City Soundtrack’ influence as well due to the distinct retro keyboard sound. Lead singer MacKenzie Outlund hit all the right notes, and she knew how to engage the crowd by moving around on stage. Guitarist Stu Dietz blew me away, both with his vocal harmonies and the amazing sound that he got out of his tele-shaped guitar. I couldn’t grab the name of his gear, but his board of about 30 pedals created this huge sound, some of the better sounding guitar I’ve heard in town – almost like U2 meets The Cure meets Eric Johnson. ‘Insomnia’ was by far the best tune of the set – a melodic masterpiece with a huge crescendo preceded by an epic build that made this a standout tune leaving both myself and the crowd plenty satisfied.

Organ Beats was up next, the new project from former Damone frontwoman Noelle LeBlanc. The vision of this beautiful, talented young woman pounding on a 1980 Les Paul Custom tuned to drop D captivated my attention for pretty much the entire show. I normally don’t believe in love at first sight, but love at first sound is exactly what happened in this case. To date I’ve rarely heard a singer that had such spot on vocals live, and in such a small setting. There was no searching for notes, they were just there. The vocals took on a Juliana Hatfield meets Paramore feel, with this huge rock undertone that even had some elements of Hum. What kind of gal is she? Well she snot rocketed across the stage before moving right into what I thought was their best song of the night, ‘Never Gonna Make It Out Of Here Alive’. It was an epic song and by far the biggest crowd pleaser of the set. The Organ Beats’ set featured perfectly timed drums, powerful and dirty bass, and crunchy guitar – laced with beautiful heart-stopping vocals. An incredible effect, to say the least. Nearing the end of the set, they covered AC/DC’s ‘Shake A Leg’ and absolutely tore the house down.

Philly’s Conservative Man was the next group to take the stage, celebrating the release of their brand new self-titled EP (produced by Luxury frontman Jason Dunn). Bassist and lead singer Ian McCarthy strolled onto the stage adorned with a knit cap and Jackie O sunglasses to greet the crowd and give a nice shout out to Dunn for his ‘audiophilic’ efforts on the album. (He also threw in a shout-out to PGB for naming a song off the new album the previous week’s TOTW!) Guitarist Blake Colello, sharp-dressed in a suit, and drummer Justin Sokol, rocking big ol’ headphones, joined McCarthy on stage shortly thereafter. The three-piece used a laptop to control their midi backing track, essentially replacing their MIA keyboardist – a necessity for a band as synth-heavy as CM. They soared through a 45 minute set that consisted of their entire new EP front to back; as well as a few older favorites. Their performance featured a sonic clash of ambient vocals meeting off-kilter guitar, enveloped in a midi soundscape orgasm.  Highlights from the set include ‘The Heist’, currently in rotation on WFNX, as well as ‘Imaginary Forces’. Dunn provided the set with yet another highlight by jumping up on stage to provide guest vocals for a song.

PGB Favorites The Luxury closed out this incredible night of music. The Luxury is one of those bands that have that huge sound, that charisma, that draw and that intensity that really makes their set an experience rather than just another show. Each member of the group functions individually as well as part of a whole – they know their roles and each member complements the others seamlessly. The lights were dim and tinged with red as they took the stage and crashed right into ‘Til Your Last Year.’ The crowd was energetic and spirits were high as they coursed through a thirteen song set, mixing in a few older favorites in with their more recent material. The opening song was followed up with ‘Take It Back’, which I feel is one of their strongest, most melodic efforts. Complete with a welcoming and catchy chorus, this song has radio play written all over it. ‘Intro (22)’ and ‘Getaway Car’ were paired together as they are on The Luxury’s latest album In the Wake of What Wont Change, and were played effortlessly by the group.

Dunn’s voice was excellent as always and guitarist Daanen Krouth’s riffs sizzled as they lit up the stage. It was amazing how full and textured the band’s sound came out considering the size of the venue. Songs like ‘The Mirror Fogs’ showcase the beautiful vocal harmonies The Luxury are capable of, whereas others such as “Straightjacket’ and ‘Next in Line’ are more straightforward rockers, ripe for radio airplay. The final song of their set, ‘Sing for the Last Train,’ took the cake as far as showing off the multifaceted nature of their music, especially when classically trained opera singer Kelly Davis joined them on stage and belted out backing vocals in supersonic range, forming a perfect harmony with Krouth’s guitar. It stood as the last song of the evening until the crowd cheered mightily for an encore, which the band was happy to oblige them with.

The Luxury piece together each song with such craft and distinct style that its only a matter of time before they’re taking the stage at the Agannis Areana or the HOB, rather than smaller clubs such as the Paradise or the Middle East. They are deserving, dedicated, talented, and melody-crazed, with a sound meant for the bigger stage… a lot bigger.

All photos by Seth C. Drury. For more AMAZING shots from this show, click here to go to the photo gallery!

Conservative Man

The Luxury

Organ Beats

This Blue Heaven

b

All Photos by Pete Legasey

As the vibrator was once used by men to sober us “hysterical” women and our wandering wombs, I imagine a piano or a music lesson was also used as a way to distract and tame us. But, now, in the same way the vibrator has become a great symbol of female sovereignty, sexual empowerment, and self-discovery, so has the power of rock. And if you have any question, consider the carnal force behind Karen O’s vocals on “Bang” from the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s 2001 EP, listen to some PJ Harvey or go ahead and blare “Horses” by the always lovely Patti Smith.

Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling

It’s been quite some time since I have had the opportunity to see a female-fronted rock showcase, and I was actually beginning to believe women in rock was a thing of the nineties. It’s also been some time since I’ve been able to say that each band in one night had a solid performance. My faith in both rock and Harper’s Ferry was restored this wondrous December night for the Winter Wonderland Rock n’ Dance Holiday Extravaganza. It was kicked off by a set performed by Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling, a beauty and brains duo with a Kills-like presence on stage. They played the kind of music that grabs you, pushes you around, then leaves you feeling a little dirty. And, you like it.

Jeddo Stars

Jeddo Stars, a six-piece from Somerville, stormed the stage with blustering energy. Fronted by Ellie Volckhausen, the band brought admirable, and much appreciated, enthusiasm. Ellie Vee, from local success story The Charms, was an expert on stage, handling her guitar (sometimes tambourine) with a fierce, Annie Oakley-like confidence. Although I would hate to exhaust all my Letters to Cleo references (two posts in a row may be a bit excessive), this time I feel it’s particularly appropriate since Scott Riebling, bassist for the Boston band’s original lineup, is producing the Stars’ upcoming album. The illuminating back-up harmonies of Alana Sacks and Orpha Rivera and muscianship of Joe Wizda, Mark Nigro, and Pete Caldes held their own against Ellie’s rapturous siren call. The dance-friendly melodies and marvelously dizzying hooks of “3D” and “Goodbye Eyes” could provide the appropriate soundtrack to doing the twist in your underwear while your roommates are away. (I’m just saying.)

Sun Lee Sunbeam

Following Jeddo Stars, Sun Lee Sunbeam dressed to the nines in virginal white played to the festive backdrop of, what my PGB comrade, Pete, identified as, a high school prom. With pastel balloons tethered to the stage and instruments, the band’s guitar-heavy performance was laced with an adolescent whimsy that made songs like “Naked (I want you)” a naughty indulgence to feed the inner teenage boy in all of us. Jessica Sun Lee, with her powerfully sultry voice, was backed by Mary Flatley on the bass, Mike Ward on guitar, and Jeff Clarke on drums. The quartet’s sound oozed sex from the stage to the dancefloor with a Veruca Salt appeal. Tracks from their October release Beneath the Burning Sky, “Fighting the Waves” and “The Empathist” are my personal favorites, because I’m absolutely a sucker for a good hook.

It was refreshing to see a pop/rock show. If you need some warming up this winter, I’d recommend checking these bands out to help shed those holiday pounds.

[View with PicLens]

12►

Sun Lee Sunbeam

Jeddo Stars

Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling

Harper’s Ferry

photo by Pete Legasey

Elvis Perkins had the packed Paradise in the palm of his hand from the very beginning. The band began its opening song, “Gypsy Davy,” from Elvis Perkins in Dearland’s “The Doomsday EP,” on the Paradise’s balcony, creating a slow, pageant-like procession down the stairs before making their way onto the stage to finish the song. The gigantic, booming bass drum and trumpets heralded the start of an unforgettable performance from Perkins and his band.

“Chains Chains Chains,” a wandering, ethereal sort of tune came next, ultimately setting the tone for the remainder of the performance: if the songs themselves didn’t sound like a journey, then Perkins’ lyrics would make up for that, often touching upon the topic of travel. With the lighting, the curtain behind them turned a lush, deep crimson, creating a cozy backdrop that seemed to cushion the traveling troubadours, especially throughout the slower tempo songs. The slow start didn’t last long though, as Perkins & co. launched into a version of “Heard Your Voice in Dresden” that’d shake anyone’s bones.

The band members (can we call them “In Dearland” if they’re sans Perkins?) were all scruffy and sporting some sort of plaid save for Perkins himself, whose thin frame was clad in a light denim shirt buttoned up to the collar and who donned a pair of frameless glasses. The concept of Doomsday also made a few notable reappearances throughout the set – unsurprisingly, considering they’ve released the aforementioned “Doomsday EP” and also Perkins’ penchant for heartrending song writing. Next up came “Slow Doomsday,” the closer from “The Doomsday EP” and – shocker! – a decelerated version of the opener, aptly titled, simply, “Doomsday.” This version was a slow, languid waltz punctuated by a long wail from Perkins, who asked, “Okay, Boston, you think you got a little singing in you?” before leading the crowd in a series of gospel choir-esque ‘aahhs,’ while he conducted with one arm, occasionally pointing out, “Yes that’s right,” or “You’re singing too good.”

Next Perkins and his Dearland friends gave the crowd a little lesson in the Sacred Harp singing tradition, always sung a cappella, and which includes some of the oldest American songs. They kicked off the Sacred Harp portion of the set with “He Arose,” a resounding, rousing hymn that induced a whole lot of stomping and clapping akin to an old-timey hoedown that continued into the next tune, “Stop Drop Rock and Roll,” an uncharacteristically yet effortlessly swagger-infused little ditty.

This was the point in the set where we realized Perkins wasn’t exactly up to par, health-wise. He admitted to not feeling his best and the cough in his throat attested to that. Despite this, Perkins persisted through a solo, acoustic portion where he left it open for suggestions. After a few obscure shouts that included “Freebird,” those familiar notes from “My Sherona,” and the slurred, “Play what you wanna play, man” from the dude behind me, Perkins decided on “I’ll Be Arriving,” a kind of cooling off song that highlighted his resounding, crisp guitar and the way Perkins’ voice can often resonate with a genuinely somber quality.

Again the mood shifted without much warning, as the “In Dearland” portion of the group triumphantly returned for “Hey,” off of “Elvis Perkins in Dearland,” released in March of this year. Again the group ignited into stomping and rollicking both on the stage and off as Perkins’ hopping harmonica joined. Drummer Nick Kinsey, giant marching band drum strapped to his chest, hopped back and forth across the stage like it was nothing more than a tiny tambourine. At the song’s end it broke out into timed clapping and afterwards Kinsey smiled, “That was fun!”

After “Hey,” the group wasted no time in performing their most popular songs, including “All The Night Without Love,” which, due to the booming drum, two step sound and horns had a bit of a Spanish flavor. Next came “Stay Zombie Stay,” also off “The Doomsday EP” and reminiscent of Johnny Cash’s strut, which went seamlessly into “Shampoo,” highlighted by Perkins with a great roaring harmonica solo.

“While You Were Sleeping,” despite or perhaps because it was one of the last songs, was definitely one of the most memorable. It began with Perkins alone on the stage opening the poetic, near-lullaby of a song. Slowly but surely the members of the band joined him one by one, beginning with the bassist and ending with the horns, whose inclusion was nothing short of majestic. The quick-paced, upbeat “Doomsday” was part of the first encore. Kinsey’s massive drum made its comeback as the trumpets resounded wildly, altogether making the packed club seem like it was hosting a sort of performing parade on the stage. It was by far the most pure fun I’ve ever seen five guys having on a stage.

Whether it was planned prior to the show or due to the unrestrained applause they received, Elvis Perkins in Dearland returned for a nearly unheard-of second encore. (I mean really, when’s the last time you saw a band who didn’t keep you waiting 15 minutes for two more songs?) The guys did it right with their closing songs, the sweet “123 Goodbye,” followed by a cover of Kristin Hersh’s song, “Sweet Roseanne,” which definitely produced a comical closing image: a hirsute pseudo-barbershop quartet singing goodbye to its loyal audience, with Perkins calmly strumming on his guitar.

k

Elvis Perkins

I realize posting a review of a show that happened two weeks ago may be considered old news by any blog and music standards, and for this, I apologize. But, this band is worth writing about, regardless of how timely this post might be.

How many blondes does it take to make a hundred people dance? Answer: one.

Sarah Guild, the petite dynamo fronting The New Collisions, blew me away with her powerful stage presence at their CD release party. Of course, there is something to be said about a platinum stunner as the voice to a pop/ rock band: Blondie, Letters to Cleo, No Doubt, Be Your Own Pet. There’s nothing dumb about these fierce leading ladies. And, it’s a formula that works.

The New Collisions launched their Invisible Embraces EP November 19, downstairs at the Middle East . I told my friends to wear their best American Apparel because we were going in costume, and far from the usual hipster plaid of MidEast, we were spandex ready. When TNC hit the stage, the floor opened and the venue transformed into a new-new wave discothéque. With shiny, snakeskin leggings and leopard spots at the corner of her eyes, Guild led the dance party with her seductively sweet and strong vocals. As she bounced around stage, her instrumental crew of Scott Guild, Zak Kahn, Casey Gruttadauria, and Alex Stern brilliantly played music that sounded as if it were entirely computer engineered. While I don’t see the Phil Spector, “Wall of Sound”, likeness that others have been crediting to the group, at least not more than any other group using this effect these days, there is a solid rock influence that is not overwhelmed by the driving power pop, dance beats.

With the help and encouragement of Greg Hawkes (who happened to be sporting pink tips the night of the show), of the Boston-based band The Cars, The New Collisions have won over critics, audiences, and even some of the most recognizable New Wave pioneers. I realize many of you may be apprehensive about cozying up to a style of music that is largely associated with the 80s and emerged just around the same time our favorite punk rock acts peaked. The dance-pop and neon frenzy may seem to be the antithesis of Planetoid’s “face-melting rock”, but the other-worldiness of the synth and phosphorescent duds is where the two bands meet. All right, all right. So, they’re not exactly comparable; but, don’t shy away from the minimalism of TNC’s electro two step because your afraid of what your rocker friends might say when they’ve heard you’ve been swapping glitter with the mods (Quadrophenia, anyone?).

They played a flawless rendition of The Cars’ “You Might Think” with Hawkes on the keyboard. My personal favorite, “Parachutes on the Dancefloor”, reminds me of the years of dance parties in my dorm room to The Capricorns’ 2001 In the Zone album. Or, for a more current reference check out Aeroplane’s remix of Au Revoir Simone’s “Another Likely Story.” The slower, slightly meloncholic tracks “Total Control” and “Fireflies” are carried by Guild’s candied melodies. If I were you, and haven’t already, I’d take a listen to what just might be the next big thing to come out of Boston.

Invisible Embraces recently hit #1 on the pop charts of Amie Street, a music downloading site. You can download the song “Afterglow” for free and purchase the entire album for around $4 at amiestreet.com

The New Collisions

Boston’s very own hardcore legends, Converge, are a band that I have always felt very strongly about, ever since I discovered them about 8 years ago. Nearly a decade, 4 stunning albums, and 2 Converge tattoos later, I feel I can safely say this is not going to be a picture perfect review, full of unbiased statistics and facts on Converge, and their newest release, Axe To Fall. Converge cannot be explained in facts and numbers, they are so much more than that, so much deeper, and dare I say it, more soulful than that.

First and foremost, I should say that Axe To Fall was born into a rather large and daunting shadow. Over the years Converge have released albums that can be described as nothing short of legendary, from the absolute masterpiece that is Jane Doe, to the classics, When Forever Comes Crashing and Petitioning An Empty Sky. These albums are held in such high regard by Converge fans that any new album is thoroughly scrutinized, torn apart, and ruthlessly compared to the classic fan favorites. To be perfectly honest, and badly as I wanted to be objective and judge the album on it’s own personal merits, I nearly did the same thing.

When I first received my pre-order of Axe To Fall I popped it in my car’s CD player while I was backing out of my parking spot, and as the initial blast of bass and the rattling snare drum of “Dark Horse” pummeled my senses, I nearly crashed into the wall behind me. For whatever reason, one of my first thoughts was, “Dear God, this is epic… I wonder how it compares to ‘Concubine?’” (The opener on Jane Doe). Although slightly embarrassed by this arguably close-minded thought, I could never bring myself to follow up on it, I simply didn’t want to turn the album off. The unrelenting barrage of noise and aggression that followed didn’t even begin to settle until the fifth song on the album, filling me with the same nearly overwhelming rush of excitement, adrenaline, and aggression that I felt the very first time I heard Converge so many years ago (which coincidentally, happened to be the aforementioned track “Concubine”).

I felt as if I might either explode, or punch through a brick wall, and I realized that’s how you know Converge is doing their job. That feeling began to rise up in my throat throughout the opening track, dropping off at a perfectly determined point in the album, allowing the adrenalized and shredding guitars to settle and be replaced with the eerie bleakness of “Worms Will Feed” – a lull in the storm, no less powerful, but a slight break from the initial relentless force. The rest of the album continued in much the same way, trading off between driving shredfests, and pounding brutal contrasting lows. Axe To Fall finishes off in a very unconventional, yet very characteristically Converge way. “Cruel Bloom” and “Wretched World” may not be the type of songs that come to mind when most people think of Converge, featuring piano, acoustic guitar, and Mookie Singerman of Genghis Tron (not the first things people associate with the band’s style). However, the brooding epic drone that pushes along the grand finale of the album are classic Converge through and through, reminiscent of the title track off Jane Doe, the eleven and a half minute complete emotional release. The entire album feels wrapped up in this very complete, very cohesive package that cannot be described as anything less than epic.

m

Converge

All Photos by Pete Legasey

Perhaps they took pity on us. After all, much of the crowd at Harper’s Ferry was hoping to see grammy-nominated, 247-piece puppet-core goofballs Green Jelly (pronounced “Green Jello”) along with openers Hydrahead, Neurological Damage. However, word began to trickle through the Allston grapevine earlier that day that Green Jelly had fallen prey to a sudden financial disaster when founding member Moronic Dictator’s assets were frozen by his bank. Monsieur Dictator and his mates could not scare up enough last-minute cash to get out of California, and had to cancel the scheduled tour behind their latest release, Musick To Insult Your Intelligence By. Of course, the crowd would not have gotten to see Green Jelly anyway, given that Planetoid would have already reduced them to a steaming mess of slime and bone fragments long before the headliners hit the stage – but the point is, they (the crowd) didn’t know that, and fully expected to be regaled with Green Jelly’s obscene retellings of “the Three Little Pigs” and other childhood favorites.

Even before the opening power chords were fired, this objective was accomplished by Planetoid. All they had to do was stand there: Locrius with blue paint on his face and hands, staring daggers at the crowd through Mars-red eyes; Ovatus, green as the creatures in Naked Lunch with a Ceratosaurus horn poking out of his forehead; and Admiral Time, hulking over the drum kit in his and chrome space helmet. Throw in a couple of pink-haired go-go dancers, a pair of hula dancers in fishnets and the fact that the only thing on TV was the Yankees celebrating a World Series victory and you can understand why no one at Harper’s Ferry wanted to look anywhere but at the stage.

The Planetoid sound is as thoroughly coagulated as their visual formula. Like Black Sabbath, the speeds change, but the slaughter never stops. They lay it on slow and thick with songs like Black Miasma and Lord of this Asteroid, and then pour in the liquid schwartz for the galloping stampede of Russian Space Solution and the whip-cracking front end of Chain Reaction (a space-age re-imagining of Speed King by Deep Purple). The proud overuse of synchronized bends injects a real 70’s muscle car swagger in most of their riffs. In fact, just about every song has at least one moment that struts out the brash and bluesy curvature of Edgar Winter Group’s Frankenstein (which is funny, because I’m always saying how every song by every artist should have at least one moment that sounds like Edgar Winter Group’s Frankenstein. I TOLD you it would work, damnit!). Beyond their 31st Century heaviness, the things that keep the Planetoid virus vaccine-resistant are Locrius’s demonic snarl (too raw and throaty to appear on a Sabbath or Purple record) and the way he and Ovatus utilize their favorite effects at the most opportune moments (chief example: the high-octave harmonizer that produces the sonic equivalent of that phallic little mini-mouth popping out of the queen’s jaws in the Alien movies). All of these transmutations were in full effect as Planetoid rocked the Earth’s foundation for a solid light year. They swept it clean with fire in a front-to-back hurdle through their album, Shadow of the Planetoid, and then terraformed what was left with two encores (maybe three, maybe more. I don’t know. My face was melted).

The Harper’s Ferry show was a kind of experiment for ND, who played the entire set with Vic Foresta on vocals for the first time. Foresta, the full-time frontman for funk renegades the Force (which used to include Dusty on bass), has been a fixture at recent ND shows, but typically joins the band only for a few songs per set. On this night, however, ND fans got a full dose of Foresta’s zany little-kid-who-just-drank-a-litre-of-Jolt-cola energy (and his equally hyperactive hairdo). Now, I’ll admit, I always had a certain fondness for Dusty and Billy’s guttural trade-off act on vocals (especially on the infectious anti-love letter, Space Kitty, and the band’s eponymously titled funk metal anthem), but having Vic in there for a whole set certainly frees up the Cap’n and White Lando to focus, exclusively, on doing what they do best. His persona is an ideal match for Neurological Damage, which takes the oddball precision of Primus and serves it up with the bong shop irreverence of Faith No More and the cowboy cockiness of Van Halen.

Planetoid is in the studio for the remainder of the year and won’t be playing any more shows until January at the earliest, but you can catch Neurological Damage on December 23rd @ The Middle East Upstairs.

For the rest of the photos from this show, click here!

Planetoid

Neurological Damage

Having recently gone through a break-up, I’ve found myself in the mood for a bit of country croon. Loretta Lynn, Lynn Anderson (you PGB readers might remember The Suicide Machines’ cover of “Rose Garden”), Patsy Cline, and, yes, even some busty blonde Parton have replaced the bitch fest where time with my other single girlfriends is supposed to be. While some see classic country (women’s country, for some reason, particularly) as a mouthful of inanely entertaining deadbeat husband squawks, I don’t see anyone criticizing Muddy Waters’ for “Crosseyed Cat”.  There’s nothing exceptionally profound, really, about the everyday these folks write about, but these songs, they’re like old friends. And over the years these acoustic stories have found their way at the intersection of country, blues, and folk.

There’s been a recent surge of some great folk/ country acts like Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros and the rock-heavy Those Darlins (both, by the way, are completely intoxicating, and I am admittedly writing under the influence of both debuts). But, these acts are still missing that familiar quality, the humor and hurt in the storytelling that Waters, Dylan, Cash, Wynette, or Cline will always have for the most of us. So, when the opportunity came up to see Luke Doucet at Club Passim last Saturday, well, it just seemed timely.

I should have known crossing the river on a Saturday night would take longer than expected, so, I arrived a little late to an impossibly crowded Club Passim (which you may also recognize as Veggie Planet). I heard this dark waltz from the street, the kind you might know from the Man in Black himself. But, I walked into the recently converted dining hall, to find a young man with sandy blonde-hair performing, alone, a brand of prosaic Americana that many emerging non-mainstream acts seem to neglect in an effort to achieve the highest level of abstraction: all-too-often forgetting the genius of Dylan’s “One Too Many Mornings”. Doucet’s body formed a crescent over his Gretsch White Falcon vintage guitar (the same hunk of an instrument that many of the greats have been known to play) as he played the title track from his 2008 release Blood’s Too Rich.

Doucet’s surprisingly angelic and smoky voice rivaled the rock/ blues edge of his Jeff Beck-style guitar playing, producing an impressive sonic harmony. Between songs he sipped on his red wine as he shared travel anecdotes and introduced us to members of his family and past heartaches. He appeared both comfortable and modest up there on his own, sporting the aesthetic of middle America (even though he hails from Canada), and transitioned seamlessly from a confident reticence to a musical force. The cross-generational audience was welcomed, and seemed to be a non-issue to everyone in the room: the stories were universal and the delivery transcendent. Songs like “The Day Rick Danko Died”, “Broken One”,  ”Emily, Please” showed breadth in style and skill, blending the pop sensibilities Ryan Adams, the sensitivity of Elliot Smith, the back alley lyricism of Tom Waits (think, “Gun Street Girl”), and the commanding minimalism of Neil Young. So, while Doucet’s musical influences may include everything but the kitchen sink, this master storyteller has found a sound of his own in that melting pot of folk, blues, and country.

Luke Doucet