Camera Phone Show Review #3: Grave for the Fireflies, Wilmot Proviso, The Fucking Wrath, Glass & Ashes, Dogs of Ire
The Glass House
7/14/06
The show must go on.
That's probably more of an old timey show business saying than in the current punk rock community, but the sentiment is pretty much the same. The idealism, honesty and urgency I remember from the scene in the 90's seems to have died out in recent years, what with the mainstream's faster and faster consumption of underground music, until you can't tell the media creations from the real bands anymore. However, there are still those involved in underground music that still give a fuck and will go out of their way to make sure things get done. They will bend over backwards to make sure musicians have an audience, a place to stay, and food if they need it. All this with little to no compensation for their efforts, save maybe a thank you note posted on their fridge.
Marty from The Party’s Over Productions did a great thing on July 14, 2006. He made sure that the show would go on. Unfortunately for me, I didn't realize there was a problem with the show until the moment Richard, Lindsaye and I pulled into the empty parking lot of Babylon, squinting and trying to make out the writing on the sign on the door. "Closed today!" it read in shaky sharpie-scrawled letters. We immediately called Rob who, like Oracle, helped us find the new coordinates of the show from his home base of operations. I have to admit, I felt a little like a secret agent. Apparently Babylon doesn't host shows anymore due to a liquor license issue or something. Without a second thought, the three of us hopped in our makeshift Batmobile and sped off back the way we came on the freeway towards Pomona, where the Glass House is located (thanks Rob).
As a result of our late information, we missed Grave for the Fireflies, which I was bummed about because I heard they've made changes to their lineup since I last saw them. They're a great band, and I suggest you check them out.
Wilmot Proviso
As I walked into The Glass House, said my hellos, and made my way past the merch tables, I was surprised to see there was a big empty space where the next band should be setting up. I had just expressed my woes to Grave for the Fireflies about missing their set, and I was ready to rock. There was an unassuming looking guy with an acoustic guitar gathering together a couple of microphones.
I'm the type of person who hears the sounds in music first, and I don't actually start hearing the lyrics until the fourth or fifth listen. Sometimes I just never ever catch them. I've had numerous conversations with Vivian about how opposite we are in that respect. The way we naturally take in the music we hear is totally different. She hears the lyrics first. That's why she can't read or study when there's music playing (unless its instrumental). I remember talking to her about Misfits lyrics, and being surprised about some of the verses Glenn was belting out over all those poppy chord progressions. Vivian and I were driving along listening to "Where Eagles Dare" one time, and a line skipped past me. "An omelet of disease awaits your noontime meal," Vivian deadpanned. I was shocked. "I've been listening to the Misfits for years. How could I have never caught that line?" I rest my case.
I only mention this because about three songs in, I was a bit baffled by Wilmot Proviso's performance. It was kind of abrasive. He sounded angry and in pain, yelling over the furious strumming of his guitar, and I was a little confused. Then it hit me, "Maybe its the lyrics." In my opinion, yelling without drums or distortion rarely works, yet the audience was responding warmly. In between songs, Proviso seemed fidgety and uncomfortable, inserting a lot of ums and whatevers into his sentences. During his tunes, though, he was in his own world, totally at home with himself. He appeared to be very sincere and earnest, howling about interpersonal relationships, but not without a certain sense of irony, ending one song with the line, "You thought this was about you."
Proviso said he's been playing music for around eight to ten years, and that if everything worked out, he'd be on the road for the next two. I thought to myself how going out on tour, perhaps doing a little soul searching can be a positive thing. I hope by the time he makes it back home, he's been able to work out some of those inner demons he might be dealing with.
The Fucking Wrath
As I was taking in the deep crusty sound of The Fucking Wrath, a few bands popped into my head. Drop Dead. Tragedy. Heroin. I can't lie: I've seen a million bands play this kind of music and no one has done it as well as those three. However, The Fucking Wrath tore it up like wild horses on a stampede, and the fact I watched their whole set is a testament to their ability and creativity. "To The Eels" was probably my favorite song they played, as it had a part in the middle that got slow and brought to mind some southern rock bands like The Sword and Alabama Thunder Pussy. There were some semi-political messages mentioned before a few songs, but I liked it better when they encouraged circle pits.
After they played, I spoke with Craig (guitar/vocals) and asked him how low they tuned. As I suspected, they were at "C". For those of you who don't play music, that's low. I mentioned Drop Dead and Tragedy and asked if they'd list those bands as influences. Craig sort of shrugged and said, "Yeah, all that stuff. But probably more like Motörhead.
Glass & Ashes
You know that part in Ang Lee's Hulk, where he beats the crap out of a tank and throws it over a mountain? Well, that's kind of how it felt when Glass & Ashes played. I think the Hulk is a good metaphor for the band here, because while you may think he's all muscle and power, he can be graceful as well. The same goes for the band, moving and shaking with intensity and ferocity.
Its really refreshing to see a band playing music with such high energy yet still challenging genres. It makes it difficult (and more fun) for people to try to describe what they sound like in reviews such as this one. I could sit here and spit out a bunch of genres like post hardcore, punk rock, and rock n’ roll, like you see in those pull-down menus when you sign your band up for a music profile, but I think we all know that those terms have become pretty meaningless and arbitrary. Does anyone really search bands on Myspace by genre? I mean, come on!
When I moved out to Los Angeles and started Modern Movement, Rob, Richard and I were having one of those initial conversations about music. I realized quite quickly that everyone's definitions of all those music types differ greatly based on region, personal experiences, and taste. Not to mention the definitions themselves change. In the 90's, emo meant something completely different than it does now. Same goes for post-punk and screamo.
Like The Fucking Wrath, Glass & Ashes is also from Ventura, CA. In fact, judging by some banter between Mike, the singer/bassist of Glass & Ashes, and Craig from The Fucking Wrath, they live down the street from each other. They also chatted about a crazy party that happened on that block, as well as some reminiscing about a different show they played with Dogs of Ire. You might think this was a lot to discuss in the middle of a show, but it was actually the most entertaining way I've seen a band handle a broken string change in a long while. Note to self: Play shows with bands you're friends with.
Dogs of Ire
Dogs of Ire remind me of being on tour. You know the kind: Its hot as hell. The van is cramped. You're somewhere in the Bible belt, trying to keep your sanity, and you swear if you can just make it to the next show, everything will be fine. And at the next show, you might see Dogs of Ire, or something like them. An incredibly intense maelstrom of chaos and raw emotion, all air screams and guitar chucking. I couldn't hear much of what was going on musically, but I think what makes them interesting is their physical presence in the room. Of all the bands, they were the only ones who had their own lighting. Even though it added to the band's mystique, I think it disconnected them from the audience a little bit. This is probably just fine with their fans, as most of them might be the type of kid that internalizes a lot of their problems and want to experience the show in a completely personal way. That is pure speculation on my part, so don't believe everything you read!
* * *
Not too long ago, one of the bands I'm in was playing a show which was put on by a promoter whose name I won't mention. He runs a website, books shows, and rents out hourly rehearsal spaces for bands. He's a really nice guy, but the way he handles bands is the opposite of punk rock. There was this band on the bill that was on tour, and they were asking him about gas money to get to the next show. He directed them to the owner of the club who in turn directed them back to the promoter. As you can guess, a dispute broke out.
This particular promoter claimed he had no responsibility to pay the touring band because he didn't book them, and that the club had asked them to play. All this while he's sitting at the bar counting cash from the door. Keep in mind, we never ask him to pay us because we are local, not a lot of people know about us, and basically we figure the money is going to other people that need it more. In this case, I asked him what the problem was with paying the out of town band, and he nearly bit my head off. "I've got expenses to take care of!" He exclaimed, and he repeated, "I didn't book the band, the venue did!"
In my experience, there's always been a sort of code between underground bands and kids in the DIY community that you should always go the extra mile for touring bands. Anyone who's ever been on a small tour knows this. The hospitality of strangers can sometimes be the only thing keeping you sane on a crummy tour you had to book yourself.
All I'm saying is, I've seen both sides of the coin, and people like Marty should not be taken for granted. He put on a great show in the face of adversity, and he always tries to help people out. Let's hope there will always be people out there that make sure that "the show must go on" isn't just an old timey saying that's lost its meaning.
7/14/06
The show must go on.
That's probably more of an old timey show business saying than in the current punk rock community, but the sentiment is pretty much the same. The idealism, honesty and urgency I remember from the scene in the 90's seems to have died out in recent years, what with the mainstream's faster and faster consumption of underground music, until you can't tell the media creations from the real bands anymore. However, there are still those involved in underground music that still give a fuck and will go out of their way to make sure things get done. They will bend over backwards to make sure musicians have an audience, a place to stay, and food if they need it. All this with little to no compensation for their efforts, save maybe a thank you note posted on their fridge.
Marty from The Party’s Over Productions did a great thing on July 14, 2006. He made sure that the show would go on. Unfortunately for me, I didn't realize there was a problem with the show until the moment Richard, Lindsaye and I pulled into the empty parking lot of Babylon, squinting and trying to make out the writing on the sign on the door. "Closed today!" it read in shaky sharpie-scrawled letters. We immediately called Rob who, like Oracle, helped us find the new coordinates of the show from his home base of operations. I have to admit, I felt a little like a secret agent. Apparently Babylon doesn't host shows anymore due to a liquor license issue or something. Without a second thought, the three of us hopped in our makeshift Batmobile and sped off back the way we came on the freeway towards Pomona, where the Glass House is located (thanks Rob).
As a result of our late information, we missed Grave for the Fireflies, which I was bummed about because I heard they've made changes to their lineup since I last saw them. They're a great band, and I suggest you check them out.
Wilmot Proviso
As I walked into The Glass House, said my hellos, and made my way past the merch tables, I was surprised to see there was a big empty space where the next band should be setting up. I had just expressed my woes to Grave for the Fireflies about missing their set, and I was ready to rock. There was an unassuming looking guy with an acoustic guitar gathering together a couple of microphones.
I'm the type of person who hears the sounds in music first, and I don't actually start hearing the lyrics until the fourth or fifth listen. Sometimes I just never ever catch them. I've had numerous conversations with Vivian about how opposite we are in that respect. The way we naturally take in the music we hear is totally different. She hears the lyrics first. That's why she can't read or study when there's music playing (unless its instrumental). I remember talking to her about Misfits lyrics, and being surprised about some of the verses Glenn was belting out over all those poppy chord progressions. Vivian and I were driving along listening to "Where Eagles Dare" one time, and a line skipped past me. "An omelet of disease awaits your noontime meal," Vivian deadpanned. I was shocked. "I've been listening to the Misfits for years. How could I have never caught that line?" I rest my case.
I only mention this because about three songs in, I was a bit baffled by Wilmot Proviso's performance. It was kind of abrasive. He sounded angry and in pain, yelling over the furious strumming of his guitar, and I was a little confused. Then it hit me, "Maybe its the lyrics." In my opinion, yelling without drums or distortion rarely works, yet the audience was responding warmly. In between songs, Proviso seemed fidgety and uncomfortable, inserting a lot of ums and whatevers into his sentences. During his tunes, though, he was in his own world, totally at home with himself. He appeared to be very sincere and earnest, howling about interpersonal relationships, but not without a certain sense of irony, ending one song with the line, "You thought this was about you."
Proviso said he's been playing music for around eight to ten years, and that if everything worked out, he'd be on the road for the next two. I thought to myself how going out on tour, perhaps doing a little soul searching can be a positive thing. I hope by the time he makes it back home, he's been able to work out some of those inner demons he might be dealing with.
The Fucking Wrath
As I was taking in the deep crusty sound of The Fucking Wrath, a few bands popped into my head. Drop Dead. Tragedy. Heroin. I can't lie: I've seen a million bands play this kind of music and no one has done it as well as those three. However, The Fucking Wrath tore it up like wild horses on a stampede, and the fact I watched their whole set is a testament to their ability and creativity. "To The Eels" was probably my favorite song they played, as it had a part in the middle that got slow and brought to mind some southern rock bands like The Sword and Alabama Thunder Pussy. There were some semi-political messages mentioned before a few songs, but I liked it better when they encouraged circle pits.
After they played, I spoke with Craig (guitar/vocals) and asked him how low they tuned. As I suspected, they were at "C". For those of you who don't play music, that's low. I mentioned Drop Dead and Tragedy and asked if they'd list those bands as influences. Craig sort of shrugged and said, "Yeah, all that stuff. But probably more like Motörhead.
Glass & Ashes
You know that part in Ang Lee's Hulk, where he beats the crap out of a tank and throws it over a mountain? Well, that's kind of how it felt when Glass & Ashes played. I think the Hulk is a good metaphor for the band here, because while you may think he's all muscle and power, he can be graceful as well. The same goes for the band, moving and shaking with intensity and ferocity.
Its really refreshing to see a band playing music with such high energy yet still challenging genres. It makes it difficult (and more fun) for people to try to describe what they sound like in reviews such as this one. I could sit here and spit out a bunch of genres like post hardcore, punk rock, and rock n’ roll, like you see in those pull-down menus when you sign your band up for a music profile, but I think we all know that those terms have become pretty meaningless and arbitrary. Does anyone really search bands on Myspace by genre? I mean, come on!
When I moved out to Los Angeles and started Modern Movement, Rob, Richard and I were having one of those initial conversations about music. I realized quite quickly that everyone's definitions of all those music types differ greatly based on region, personal experiences, and taste. Not to mention the definitions themselves change. In the 90's, emo meant something completely different than it does now. Same goes for post-punk and screamo.
Like The Fucking Wrath, Glass & Ashes is also from Ventura, CA. In fact, judging by some banter between Mike, the singer/bassist of Glass & Ashes, and Craig from The Fucking Wrath, they live down the street from each other. They also chatted about a crazy party that happened on that block, as well as some reminiscing about a different show they played with Dogs of Ire. You might think this was a lot to discuss in the middle of a show, but it was actually the most entertaining way I've seen a band handle a broken string change in a long while. Note to self: Play shows with bands you're friends with.
Dogs of Ire
Dogs of Ire remind me of being on tour. You know the kind: Its hot as hell. The van is cramped. You're somewhere in the Bible belt, trying to keep your sanity, and you swear if you can just make it to the next show, everything will be fine. And at the next show, you might see Dogs of Ire, or something like them. An incredibly intense maelstrom of chaos and raw emotion, all air screams and guitar chucking. I couldn't hear much of what was going on musically, but I think what makes them interesting is their physical presence in the room. Of all the bands, they were the only ones who had their own lighting. Even though it added to the band's mystique, I think it disconnected them from the audience a little bit. This is probably just fine with their fans, as most of them might be the type of kid that internalizes a lot of their problems and want to experience the show in a completely personal way. That is pure speculation on my part, so don't believe everything you read!
* * *
Not too long ago, one of the bands I'm in was playing a show which was put on by a promoter whose name I won't mention. He runs a website, books shows, and rents out hourly rehearsal spaces for bands. He's a really nice guy, but the way he handles bands is the opposite of punk rock. There was this band on the bill that was on tour, and they were asking him about gas money to get to the next show. He directed them to the owner of the club who in turn directed them back to the promoter. As you can guess, a dispute broke out.
This particular promoter claimed he had no responsibility to pay the touring band because he didn't book them, and that the club had asked them to play. All this while he's sitting at the bar counting cash from the door. Keep in mind, we never ask him to pay us because we are local, not a lot of people know about us, and basically we figure the money is going to other people that need it more. In this case, I asked him what the problem was with paying the out of town band, and he nearly bit my head off. "I've got expenses to take care of!" He exclaimed, and he repeated, "I didn't book the band, the venue did!"
In my experience, there's always been a sort of code between underground bands and kids in the DIY community that you should always go the extra mile for touring bands. Anyone who's ever been on a small tour knows this. The hospitality of strangers can sometimes be the only thing keeping you sane on a crummy tour you had to book yourself.
All I'm saying is, I've seen both sides of the coin, and people like Marty should not be taken for granted. He put on a great show in the face of adversity, and he always tries to help people out. Let's hope there will always be people out there that make sure that "the show must go on" isn't just an old timey saying that's lost its meaning.
posted by Dan at 8:30 AM
2 Comments:
I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch! I can't believe Bratmobile beat me to the punch on that one. Didn't we come up with another song to cover with glockenspiel and handclaps?
Also, best music to study by: Brian Eno.
Post a Comment
<< Home