Bury Him Far From His Reconstruction Era Sadness

Jason Killingsworth, the deputy editor at Paste Magazine, is quoted in a praising review of Joe Pug's talent to say, "Twenty years from now, lazy journalists will compare every halfway decent songwriter to Joe Pug. Mark my words." Listening to Messenger, Pug's debut LP, it's hard not to feel the resonance. One of the more stunning and original tracks from Joe Pug's debut is the harrowing and stunning Bury Me Far (From My Uniform):

"Just bury me far from my uniform / so God might remember my face / From the iron cross medal I would have worn / From the statues that sisters and widows mourn / From the newspaper clipings and microform / From Geneva to Hague and Nuremburg / From the sex of this world that I'll no longer taste"

Like the majority of the album, it's played naked and acoustic. His voice seems almost coated with the depression of the characters he sings. I'm sure other tracks will become radio popular on college indie stations around the country (as he is getting big in the ol' blog hemisphere), and Dylan-esque adjectives will be applied, as they should, but I'm stuck on the power of Bury Me Far (From My Uniform)--a single track on a great album.

Thanks Pug's digital ingénue, you can stream Messenger (out now) below.

Hey Stop By

Many folk-rock bands, that have considerable "Indie" strength, skip the DFW area for reasons unknown to me. Please come by The Morning Benders. We would like to see you. This heartwarming, Phil Specter-esque video of the Benders with John Vanderslice, and some dudes from Girls is proof in the pudding that they should come.

The Benders just released a healthy tour (here), and are stopping plentifully in SXSW--but alas not Dallas.

Review: Nick Oliveri (Acoustic), Aquaholics, Pure Luck @ Doublewide

Three facts from the other night--
1) A Yukon Trail bearded man sang into the microphone, while simultaneously smoked cigarette
2) Nick Oliveri fan confronted insanely loud woman, "Hey how about watching the show?" to which she replied, "No! I'm going to talk to my friend Dana!" (Or Dianne? not sure)
3) Jeff Pinkus was wasted

A hairy evening, for sure. Because it was a packed show, and there were so many moments of musical force, head splitting loudness and tech screw-ups, I'm going to break the evening down into a series of short phrases:

Talking. Bad sound. Shiner Bock in can. Pure Luck is hard as nails, cocaine country. Jagermeister shots in plastic cups, thrown down vigorously when done. Story about a cool fight John Iskander got in. Crazy women pets friend's dreadlocks. Weirded out. Aquaholics are smoking, Dick Dale rock. Fun. Another beer? More shots for band. Sweaty forehead and pits. That guys shirt says "Fuck" on it, a lot. Nick Oliveri is screaming and bald. It takes hefty courage to play acoustic metal (oxymoron?) solo. Long set. Breaks string. Takes requests. Three fans sing "Cocaine Rodeo" to close the show, one is a friend. Me excited for friend. Poster signing. Afraid to to talk to Nick Oliveri in fear of being eaten from the eyeballs down. Bartender screams, everyone out.

Somebody's Darlin' at Good Records, Willie Nelson's Ghost

Somewhere in between brisket and brain melting Texas heat, there's the familiarity of Somebody's Darlin'. For example, the cover of their S/T debut album is a black and white candid of the band chillin' at a bar, whiskey and beer in ready reach. I have the taste of 'tabbecer' brewin' in my lip already. Oh, the thing is: they can really play. Last week, SD celebrated the national release of their S/T album at Good Records, and it couldn't have been stronger. Minus the criminality of bad volume control lessening the impact of Amber Farris's voice, the band as a whole was spot on. "Horses," the opening track to the debut, was as good as any Cardinals / Ryan Adams hybrid out there. "Chug Chuggin'" was heartwarming and showcases Darlin's softer side. "Penny of Thoughts" was through-and-through country (the good kind) that a pair of boots suddenly appeared in my hand, and the ghost of Willie Nelson gently pushed me through the saloon doors of a Austin bar, where country musicians turned and smiled in a grand ballroom like the final scene in Titanic. Oh Willie Nelson's ghost (not dead), take me into the abyssal deep. Lead me by your wrinkly hand. The lights are growing dim. It's really heaven. Look! There's Bocephus by the keg! Wait, he wrote that Monday Night Football thing get him outta' here. I welcome ya'll, Somebody's Darlin'. For your wicked country rock warms our whiskey ready hearts.

Somebody's Darlin' S/T debut is out now via Palo Duro Records.

Review: Jeff the Brotherhood & Screaming Females @ The Lounge Dallas

For a one-and-a-half person band, Jeff the Brotherhood is loud. Half because the guitarist played with only three strings. I don't mean "they broke mid-way through the set"--I'm talking the strings were patiently removed beforehand so that power chords would be the only thing you would hear. Which I noticed when guitarist, Jeff Orrall, took his extra long XLR cable for a heavy metal ride down the hallway all the way to the bar. That's about the time everyone at the bar turned their heads and shut the hell up.

Jeff the Brotherhood is, yes, two brothers: Jeff and Jake Orrall in vintage tees, smokers thin jeans and long 70's haircuts. For a heavy rock-punk band, the kind with metaphors of graveyards and smoke, they were surprisingly focused. Drummer Jake seemed to be on some sort of mega rhythm drug, keeping karate-punch fast drum beats in perfect pace. Jeff's voice live, however, is not the greatest thing you've ever heard, but with songs like "I'm a Freak" and "Screaming Banshee," what's the difference? That said, you have to hear their sound. My first blush impression was "Eh, I've heard this before in another bar," but their focus and timing were so strong it held attention. It was so strong that the audience wasn't really sure when they finished songs (it didn't help they actually had music playing when Jeff tuned his guitar): the songs rang out to the vibrant sound of not-clapping. In this setting, they were a perfect opening band. Granite freaking hard, loud and just...awesome.

Before the Screaming Females (pictured above) came on, a tiny woman in a Norman Bates floral print dress was drifting through the audience. I noticed her because she was so damn small (belly button high to the dude next to me), and her dress was something from Grandma's closet. This is lead singer Marissa Paternoster. Next, let me pause any sense of journalistic language and grammar here, they annihilated my face with rock and bone. Dude, Marissa Paternoster can wail! Jarret Dougherty and "King Mike" on drums and bass, respectively, can wail too! "Bell," from their LP Power Move, was a near perfect Dinosaur Jr. guitar homage, and some leopard scream rock howls from Paternoster; "Baby Teeth" was just as fast and completely furious, with catchy lyrics:

"i am tired of your mouth/ when you're talking about/ the injustice of speech/ on a bus to the beach"

Honestly, I liked every minute. The thrashing drums, the syrup heavy bass, and the solos...my god the solos. They were melting the corduroy off every single hipster jacket. Marissa Paternoster is a force of freaky nature on stage, with seemingly endless larynx wind speeds. Without her, the band becomes another hard punk cog in the machine, though a damn good one. Take a look at some of her lyrics (from "What if Someone is Watching Their T.V.?"):

"this a nice place that you've been living in/ all processed in cans / tricking black ponies into a crippled dance/ buried in the sand"

So, she takes it to new levels of scream vision. Luckily, The Females are on tour in the near future with Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. Here's a straight rule: I like any band that makes their guitars sound like harmonizing puma screams.

Rock Me Like a ______________ Austin Band

In an interview from 2009, Trey Pool, guitarist of THE GARY, told Madeloud that they would be doing a record around the theme of hurricanes and hailstorms. The album turned out to be exactly that: the sound of a hurricane. Logan, which was digitally released in 2009 and set to be physically released next month, has enough thrashing guitars to blow your curtains off the pole.

I like tracks like “Ancient Music” and “Don’t Send Me There” that sound rough and powerful, as though they sweated the making of it. The opening verse from the 7th track, “Hurricane Radio” slows the rock down:
 “Hurricane radio 1,2,3 / I detect my memory trying to out run me …is this a vague broadcast / do you read me?”

It's the gruff, last broadcast of a dying relationship. This is the metaphor of Logan, and the musical elements used are earthen and gruff. There’s no ease in this album. The bass is fiery and the guitar has that ragged, fevered sound that you can hear in good garage bands from Texas. I agree with Austin Sound’s analysis (here) that these guys are more than a one-noter, and like Ryan Adam's fertility- drugged-birthing of multiple country-blues records (or, really, Whiskeytown's rose metaphors), there is room to grow.

The Gary's Logan is available now in print and mp3.

The Low Anthem in a Rail Car (and then at the Granada)

Low Anthem - This God Damned House - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

If you were at the Granada around Halloween of last year, you might have caught The Dallas Family Band outside, in their wicked high school band uniforms, thumping drums and piccolo-ing. If you were there around October 28th, and had eagle-keen eyes, you might have noticed that members of the Low Anthem had donned dorky band jackets and joined the fun.

The Low Anthem is an unsuspecting band. Their Steinbeckian folk rock is studded with poetic images of loneliness, empty rooms, American horizons, and of course, birds. The above is one of their best examples, "This God Damn House" (beautifully lit and filmed by La Blogetheque in a railway car outside New York City). Even better news is the glorious, undeterred by SXSW show they have at the The Granada, March 17th. Make sure you catch it, or it will flutter away. Ok that was dramatic, but you should go because they play clarinets, clavinets, and a big harpsichord.