The New Looks for Spring – New Looks for Spring

The New Looks for Spring are another side project by an industrious group of young musicians living in Vienna. Currently known more for its metal and hardcore, Vienna is host to few indie-pop groups. Thus, it is not surprising that many of those that have toured outside of Austria consisted of members from The New Looks for Spring. Originally starting as more of a metal act (the Reframe Concept), three of the members of that group went on to form The Atlantic Monthly, which is probably the most well known incarnation of this small collective. The New Looks for Spring seem to be an attempt by some members of The Atlantic Monthly to “polish” their sound. They have abandoned the “emo” screams for the most part, opting instead for more straight ahead vocals. The production sounds like it was done on a 16-track instead of on 4-, and it reminds me a little of Husker Du’s New Day Rising because of the separation of all the instruments in the mix – a keyboard/guitar unison supplanting and sort of miming that album’s defining overdriven fuzz guitar. The image presented by the band is one of fashion as well; their sound an aural version of the airbrushed intentional irreality of magazine models. They have at least made an attempt to pair down (their songs are now only about 3 and 1/2 minutes long as opposed to the 6-minute indie dirges penned by The Atlantic Monthly).

On the one hand, “New Looks for Spring” appears like it is just an attempt to garner as much commercial attention as possible. While the recording clearly was not done in some million-dollar an hour studio co-produced by Rick Rubin and Butch Vig, it has a similar feel. On the other hand, their songwriting is probably a little too varied and complicated to accomplish such a goal. The synth-intro gives way to vocal harmonies, and eventually we reach the chorus that is repeated a number of times. The stereo separation of all the instruments is most evident on a bridge that leads into the outro. The ending feels a little abrupt for them, as it just cuts out. You get the feeling that they wanted to go back to the original chorus at least one more time. Their US influences are all over this song, some popping up in surprising places – such as what sounds like a musical quote from a Dinosaur Jr. song in the final section. It would be interesting to hear how all this translates in a live setting. Then again, what is refreshing in the thrash/hardcore saturated clubs of Vienna is old-hat in the indie festivals in London or San Francisco.

I am happy to see bands “taking it seriously,” but this quintet is a little too polished for my ears – concentrating more on style and method over real substance. That said, they do have a some great hooks and harmonies, and their songs are put together very well. Could any one of the bands from this group stay together for a number of years, it is likely that their music will mature into something quite original.

Casiotone for the Painfully Alone – We Have Mice

Since the policies and economic structures of the world seem to be reverting back to those of the Reagan/Thatcher-era, I think its time to recall that defining characteristic of 80s music: the synthesizer. On first glance of Owen Ashworth’s big dark-rimmed frames, you will probably suspect that his one-man band is going to be another melodic-pop geek band like the Samples, Weezer, Ozma, etc. Despite the fact that his primary instrument is a beaten-up old SK-1, Casiotone’s music is a far cry from the “retro” bands mentioned above. His dark witty lyrics might bring to mind Stephen Merrit (particularly his work as the Gothic Archies), but his minimal production and earnest delivery is closer to Daniel Johnston.

“We Have Mice” is not quite as unnerving as the stark “Tonight Was a Disaster,” but it highlights Ashworth’s growing talent for writing good hooks without sacrificing the power of including unusual or mundane details. These little details, such as the interaction with roommates, landlords, etc., add an unsettling element of realism. The imperfect stutters and beeps of his old machines highlight the imperfection of human relationships – a theme common to his songs. While Stephen Merrit sings of morose and almost psychotic longing, his deadpan lyricism is clearly meant as a theatrical tragi-comedy. With Ashworth, the picture in “We Have Mice” of someone befriending pests while waiting for a call that will never come is so personal that it is difficult to tell the difference between reality and theatre. That the two are so well intertwined is what makes the listening experience so captivating. Listening to his songs give you the feeling that you are reading someone’s diary.

While Casiotone’s music harbors a hip innocence, seeing Owen perform dispels the sense that this is self-aware or contrived in any way. His popularity can only grow as his songs touch a raw nerve with pretentious scenesters (perhaps recalling with renewed clarity their outsider status back in high school) while going down smoother than 50-year old scotch for those with recently shattered hearts.

Aveo – Seattle – Experience Music Project, WA – 2002-02-23

There’s something to be said about creating moments. It’s hard, that’s for sure, and when they don’t work out (see: any late Steven Spielberg film), the results are completely ersatz. In the same vein, the people that work the lights at the Seattle’s EMP simply try to create moments out of the music. Pictures of lightning during moments of tension during The Plan isn’t cool. It’s cheesy.

The Experience Music Project was gracious enough to host the opening show of the Death and Dismemberment Tour, featuring Death Cab for Cutie and The Dismemberment Plan, and taking point for the west coast half of the tour was Aveo. Aveo opened the show with an energetic albeit boring presentation. The problem with being in a band with music that lives on the same block as the rest of the indie rock is that you have to put lawn flamingoes in your yard to get noticed. Which is not to say that Aveo puts together altogether run-of-the-mill music; they have a distinct sound, but it tends to echo quite a few other bands (see: The Smiths, The Cure, Radiohead, etc.) while not having a particularly moving cast of characters on stage to entertain. In any case, some music is made to be performed live, some is better enjoyed holed up in your dark, dank room for the 25th day in a row.

With the type of music The Dismemberment Plan has grown into, it’s easy to be performers during the set and to mean it. That rolling lust that has Travis Morrison gyrating his hips all sleazy-like alone is a raison d’etre. The Plan showed up with the same bag of tricks as usual, save for the material from Change, and wooed the crowd into a gentle rhythmic sway. Right when things started to align, though, the light fools at the EMP decided to ignite the stage with a five-pointed ray of light shooting out of little spheres at the back of the stage. Now, just imagine as you slide your head into that bang-your-head-against-the-wall motion, that the aformentioned ray of light shoots from the head of drummer Joe Easley and makes him look exactly like Jesus. There – the forced moment, more than anything else, was distracting.

The Plan’s performance didn’t suffer from any of these distractions (including someone yelling out a request for “Track 3″), and it’s probably a bit unnecessary to quibble about lights and annoying crowds. The band played a proper mix of old and new and ended with some impromptu (or so it seemed) Jay-Z and Tomorrow (from Annie) lyrics that were enjoyable for the kitsch. Despite the vocals suffering a bit with the lack of harmonizing overdubs and the sound being a little off during a few of the songs with synth, The Plan played a decent show while by far not their best. The crowd’s participation was more obnoxious than anything else, which can alter a performance a thousandfold.

The show went on as Death Cab for Cutie took the stage. Death Cab has never really done it for me live, executing some tight (which used to be not-so-tight mainly due to the drums dragging when Michael Schorr first joined the group) performances with a good amount of energy despite lackluster results in the overall entertainment aspect. With this particular performance being filmed for an upcoming documentary of the band, the boys were pretty on, but they seemed a little nervous and – here it comes again – unnatural. Things seemed a little bit forced at times.

You might have noticed that The Photo Album is quite a bit different from Death Cab’s earlier albums. One of the primary divergences is the lack of subtlety that the music starts to show. The literary style still exists, and some of it works very well, but for some reason, the blatant lyrics and forwardness of certain songs (“Why You’d Want to Live Here,” “Styrofoam Plates”) simply doesn’t translate well to live shows. Admittedly, they didn’t play the latter, but the former was played and the energy they put into that was admirable. The highlight of their set, though, lived in the same highlights of the album – where there was conflict that leaked but didn’t pour.

The live version of “Blacking Out the Friction” takes on a more somber persona and adds a Joy Division homage near the end, making use of the same enormous and genuine sense of strain and catharsis that is heard on other of their slow-core opuses (“Song for Kelly Huckaby,” “Prove My Hypotheses”). Right there, these were points the selling points for the business at hand. The venue, however, seemed to be sucking some sense of community from the band and the fans. It didn’t help that some kid kept yelling SDRE out for some reason. Chris joked that the kid was speaking an alien language (esdiaria), and the kid got really sore about it and yelled, “SUNNY DAY FUCKING REAL ESTATE, GAWD!”

Being entirely too fastidious for my own good, the show filled my expectations as much as it could have, given the circumstances: everyone knows when you’re trying too hard, and half the people at the show were doing just that. That coercion was an epidemic that spread through the area and diminished some of what could have been so much better. Thankfully, the bands were better than that, and the insurance paid off, while not even being remotely accidental.

Lost City Angels – Worcester – Worcester Palladium, MA – 2002-02-23

Okay, so we missed Lost City Angels, but does that make us bad people? Well, maybe it does. To be honest, I had never heard of the band before, so I wasn’t exactly heartbroken when I found out I missed their set, but for all I know they could have been amazing, so check them out and don’t take my lack of attendance as any indication of the band’s talent, not that you would have anyway. And with that out of the way…

We entered the club and were glancing at the merch table just as Fairweather began what would turn out to be a brief set, lasting well under half an hour and consisting of only five or six songs, all of which came from the band’s only release thus far, 2000’s If They Move … Kill Them. Jay, the band’s lead singer, commented on how this was one of the largest crowds the band had ever played to, and explained that the group was currently writing songs for a second album and planning a tour to support it that would consist of solely house shows, telling everyone to let the band know if they had a space big enough for a performance. Those fans close to the stage took advantage of the laid back security and climbed onto the stage for a platform from which to jump back into the crowd. For a third-bill band, the guys were a little preachy, taking time in between songs to hype up Equal Vision and how it is “the greatest label around,” as well as to tell the crowd how appreciative it should be of the local music scene. Musically Fairweather was tight though, with the exception of “Whatever It Takes,” which closed out the set, and which had to be stopped midway through and picked up a moment later after an adjustment or two had been made. “Professionalism at its finest,” they joked.

Then came Thursday. Hell yeah. The crowd was moving before the first note was even played, and so when the band opened with the brief and eerie instrumental “AOOO1″ and then ripped into “Understanding in a Car Crash,” things got really intense, or “crazy go nuts” as my pal Bucko described it. Songs were taken largely from the band’s excellent and most recent effort, Full Collapse, but the set also included two numbers (“Porcelain,” “This Side of Brightness”) from the band’s debut, Waiting. Members of the crowd were surfing on each other, pumping their fists in the air, and screaming along. Lead singer Geoff Rickly played to the crowd nicely, entangling himself in his microphone cord, flailing wildly about, and holding the microphone out for the crowd to scream the layered backup vocals. Objects flew through the air, and stage diving remained popular, but things got truly chaotic for the closer, “Cross out the Eyes.” It ended up being the first live performance I have seen in a while that actually sent shivers down my spine. It could have been fear for my safety from the raw intensity that was in the air, or it could have been just plain musical enjoyment, but I think it was a little bit of both.

After an introduction that consisted of Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” during which singer and guitarist Travis Shettel ran onto the stage with a miniature guitar to pretend to play the solo, Piebald took the stage as part of a string of shows to celebrate the release of their brand spankin’ new album, We are the Only Friends We Have. It was during that opening faux Queen guitar solo that Travis ripped his pants, explaining that he had to leave for a tour in a couple of days, so if anyone in the crowd wanted to donate some pants for him to bring with him, it would be greatly appreciated. Since they were celebrating the new album, the band played a large chunk of new material, opening the set with the new re-working of “American Hearts” and branching out from there. Other new songs included “Just a Simple Plan,” “Rich People Can Breed,” “The King of the Road,” “Look, I Just Don’t Like You” and “Karate Chops for Everyone but Us.” They also tossed in some older songs, from “We Believe in Karma” to “Grace Kelley with Wings” to “Rock Revolution” to “Still We Let it Choke Us.” The guys showed their goofy side from time to time, bringing out friends in assorted fuzzy animal costumes, blasting confetti guns during “Just a Simple Plan” and a few other tunes, and bobbing their heads and strumming their guitars in unison in geeky rock star fashion.

All in all it was a fun night, with everything from emo-punk to screamo to nerd rock. Well worth the trip to Worcester.

The Reputation – Rochester – The Bug Jar, NY – 2002-02-21

Let me start off by saying something about experimental music. I’m all for it, if you want to try new things to test the limits of electronics and effects pedals in rock-based music, but don’t do it live. This show started with an opening act that consisted of two guys playing in front of the stage with their backs to the crowd so they could twiddle all their knobs. One guy would play a note or two and then manipulate it, while another had a guitar flat on the stage and would pluck away at it discordantly while using different effects. At times it got pretty loud and chaotic, at other times it sounded like a few plucked notes with the volume rising and falling. Now I’ve been reading about early Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers, and I try to be open-minded when hearing acts like this, but until there’s something for the crowd to get around, it’s best kept in the basement.

Luckily, The Reputation was all rock, and it brought the crowd back into the action. Led by Elizabeth Elmore (of Sarge fame), the band proves my theory that, once again, guitar-driven rock is coming back in vogue instead of the post-anything, keyboard-enhanced fare we’ve been getting lately. First, let’s say that this is not Sarge. In fact, when people shouted out requests of former Sarge songs, Elmore said, coyly, “You must be thinking of some other band. We’re The Reputation.” Gone is that band’s poppy-emo quality, and instead you get all-out, guitar-driven rock. I love it.

Elmore makes an excellent indie-rock female frontperson in a genre that lacks well-definable female figures outside of Sleater-Kinney and Kim Gordon. She played right to the crowd, wailing away on her guitar and sporting an old-school Compound Red t-shirt. Her songs were up-tempo and rocking with a bit of a Southern-rock root. Many songs were fast as hell, very impressive and kept up by a drummer who felt like he used to play in strictly heavy metal bands. Still, the band broke up their set with one song that Elmore played on the keyboard, prompting her to point out that she is “sensitive and demure. Mostly demure.”

Following The Reputation, Tristeza toned things down a bit with their style of flowing, melodic, chiming Mogwai-esque rock. On album, their songs can have a somnambulistic effect, flowing very pretty and sweet but not changing enough to blast loud to impress your friends. Live, however, you got the sense how long these guys had been doing this. It was amazing how well they reproduced the unique, flowing sound of their albums, but it took on a more edgy, intense feel in a live setting.

With chiming guitars, extremely rich bass, intricate, time-changing rhythms, and keyboard atmospherics, the five-piece were incredibly tight. Even more impressive, the band was very into their music. As much as possible considering the softer pace of their songs, they bounced and moved to the music, at times bent over their instruments or swaying their heads. In fact, I’d say they were more into their music than the crowd. That means a lot when you consider a band plays their songs millions of times. When you can tell the musicians are into the songs, working hard to eek out impressive and unique sounds from their instruments, you can’t help but get more into their music as well.

My only fault with Tristeza was that their show, ending at about 2 a.m. on a weeknight, did tend to put me to sleep, not really because it was as quiet and pretty as on their album but just because of the late hour. The band was surprisingly tight, and they proved that instrumental music can carry over brilliantly to a live setting. They also showed that, at the base of their experimental style, they’re still a rock band at heart.

The Reputation – Durham – MUB Entertainment Center, University of New Hampshire, NH – 2002-02-20

Just when I was beginning to loathe my school, WUNH, our most excellent radio station, goes and does something like this to make me think twice. Even after three years on this campus, I had never been in the Entertainment Center before, which I found amusing. The number of people at the show was minimal, seeing how it was poorly promoted and the music scene in New Hampshire isn’t always the liveliest one, but everyone in attendance seemed excited to have a decent band playing just a few minutes away from their dorm.

Opening things up was The Reputation, led by former Sarge member Elizabeth Elmore, who you may also recognize from the split EP she did with Robert Nanna (Braid, Hey Mercedes). “We’re called The Reputation, and this is our first tour,” Elmore said as she introduced the band. The Chicago four-piece started out with a handful of more bluesy, jammy, folky, poppy songs, but after taking a break with a quiet piano ballad of sorts, they let it all hang out with a dose of more rocking songs to close out the set and get the heads in the crowd bobbing. And speaking of heads, this was the first concert at which I had ever seen a member of the audience cheer on the band with a rubber penis. “Is that real?” asked my companion Bucko, but I don’t believe it was. One of Elmore’s guitar strings broke during the next to last song, which gave the three men of the group a chance to strut their stuff with “The Man Song,” which you may recognize from “South Park.”

As my other companion Rob muttered “beer, beer, beer,” asking how long it would be before the show would be over so we could head downtown to take advantage of discount Wednesday night drinks at the college bars, Late Night Television took the stage, asking the audience to praise them with chants of “aloha” instead of actual applause. The band bounced between lethargic, droning indie pop and more rambunxious, rootsy rock. The more rocking songs were far more interesting, as they showcased some fierce guitar shredding, which the boys of Sorry About Dresden, who were standing in front of the stage, encouraged and yelled for more of.

Then came Sorry About Dresden, straight out of North Carolina on a tour of mainly colleges that they booked themselves. The first couple of songs were slightly sloppy and chaotic, as the band seemed to have more energy than it knew what to do with, but everyone found a groove quickly, and things were okay. Drummer James looked a little hung over, but he ripped into his drum kit nonetheless, frequently losing his sticks in the air, while in front of him bassist Matt jumped up and down, coming awfully close to falling off the tiny stage. To the left of this was singer/guitarist Eric, and to the right was singer/guitarist Matty O, who remained the calmest of the bunch, stopping at one point to tell a joke: “Did you hear about the pirate movie coming out this summer? It’s rated aaaaaargh.” Eric added later in regard to the merchandise the band had for sale: “If you have disposable income, we want it.”

The band mixed together plenty of old and new material in the brief set, playing songs like “A Losing Season,” “One Version of Events” and “Hosanna in the Highest” from their new album, The Convenience of Indecision. Also falling into that category was “Deadship, Darkship,” complete with guttural screams that prompted the crowd to sing along. The energy level was consistently high throughout the entire set, and it all came to a head with the final song, during which James’ head was smeared with cake by a member of Late Night Television, and someone else climbed onto the stage to sing backup and then leap into the drum set. It was all just a little bit crazy, and definitely worth the five-minute road trip and the $2 charge at the door.

Situation at 1200 – Tranquility Basin

A heavy endorsement from Jeff (Head Editor) this week, which helps me by shortening my time spent on Mp3.com, so that’s fine by me. Only the link he gave me was broken, so I had to search for the page on my own. See what happens when you become a manager instead of a lowly working class stiff, you get lazy. I called his secretary to complain and she put me on hold for a half hour! The have-nots WILL RISE!

“Tranquility Basin” has a very Promise Ring sounding vocalist, and the music is along the lines of Texas is the Reason. I know I said I hate comparing bands, but this was too easy. These bands just jump out at you as you listen to this song. The singer has a poppy yet whiny style, which is good and works for this song. He uses the vocals to keep the melody change going throughout.

The music for “Tranquility Basin” is straightforward and has a strong driving rhythm throughout. This song is very fast paced, and Situation at 1200 have a very developed and tight sound. It’s too bad they broke up.

Their old record label, Your Best Guess, has released two of their songs on their website, so grab ‘em while you can. To find the songs (“The Northern Lights” and “Slowly Exploding”), go to www.yourbestguess.com, click on the “Catalogue” button, and then choose “Free Download” under the first item for the web-exclusive single from Situation at 1200. Yer lowly editor highly recommends “Slowly Exploding,” although the keyboards in “The Northern Lights” are damn cool.

Kompressor – Destroy Mass Media

Armed with little more than a synth, a sequencer, and a big mask, Andreas K has created an alter-ego of unmatched vanity. Referring to himself in the third person, Kompressor sees himself and his music as a singular quest to “crush America with industrial might.” As admirable a quest as this is, his songs show a broader agenda. From education (“Vitamins Are Good,” “Never Talk to Strangers,” “Adding Up the Numbers”) to cleansing the world of bad Internet advertising (“We Must Destroy X10″), Kompressor expresses an interest in infiltrating and annihilating every annoyance in the modern digital environment. Supposedly born in Bremen, Andreas K now lives in Ohio where he works as a computer programmer. If this is true, Kompressor is the logical result of someone forced to endure the banality of the Mid-west. His bellicose rantings over a distorted Kraftwerk-inspired background are at first humorous, but grow more convincing over time. Anyone who has been impatient or dissatisfied with a computer, bureaucracy, or other de-humanized interaction will instantly recognize the appeal of Kompressor. Such frustrations resonate and fuel many of his songs, and ultimately are obliterated in his alternative universe.

“Destroy Mass Media,” is perhaps not as much of a classic as the many great songs Kompressor has written about himself, having neither the stark intensity of “K is for Kompressor” or the humor of “Kompressor Does Not Dance”; however, “Destroy Mass Media” does capture his eccentric wit and shows the totality of his surreal apocalyptic world. Working at first by listing what will be removed once mass media is destroyed, Kompressor singles out everything from recorded laughing to Ann Landers. The industrial techno beat beneath his voice throbs with mechanized elegance. The lyrics go on to tell of a satellite knocked out of orbit by a brick, falling into the ocean where it continues to broadcast. The fish receive investment advice, purchase stock, and gain great capital power which they use to (what else?) destroy mass media.

There are similar artistic oddities in independent music who have taken solo performance to extremes. Bob Log III is one example, with his motorcycle helmet-wearing, tit-clapping blues-a-billy stomp. Pleaseeasaur is another, with his multiple-costumed, audience-involved karaoke with songs about “Bowl Noodle Hot,” or islands made of beef. However, Kompressor stands out from the crowd, in part because Andreas K melds his individual imagination with a more collective yearning to dispose of the meaningless errata which clutters our social lives and obstructs our communities.

Construkt – In Vein

- How about your last song… “I Got an Office Job for the Sole Purpose of Sexually Harassing Women.”
- What about it?
- I don’t think you need an office job just to do that.
- That’s just for a song, you know? I mean, all the bands you fuckin’ write about … all like famously gay death metal things …they’re all like skinny 16-year-old kids singing about how they’re going to kill someone. They’re all a bunch of pussies anyway. Who’s gonna write about something they’re actually gonna do?

Taken from an interview with Anal Cunt, this quote reveals a truth about forms of hardcore music with grotesque themes (hereafter referred to tongue-in-cheek as “Horrorcore”). Simply put, its all for show. Construkt follows the lineage of bands like Slipknot, Bile, and Insane Clown Posse (tracing further back to Twisted Sister, Alice Cooper, and Kiss). Judging from their hiring of a promotional manager, their production of a music video, and hawking of merchandise via their homepage, they seek the greatest possible audience for their music – striving for the popularity and (harmless) shock value of Nine Inch Nails or Marilyn Manson. I have no problem with bands promoting themselves as dangerous freaks or rebels, as it represents a healthy form of catharsis. The problem arises when Horrorcore bands lapse into discussions of their music as being somehow more “pure” than “wanna-be punk bands” or other “posers.” Construkt falls into this trap, tarnishing their somewhat original approach to a largely mediocre style.

At first listen, “In Vein” appears to follow a pre-set formula: soft brooding guitar-arpeggios and fluid-bass riffs support a growing chant of cliched vocals, the mix growing repetitively until it breaks out into guttural growls of slight variations on the lyrics (you might get a sort of punchline here expected to shock your parents and hook your fans), and a full-ahead distorted instrumental power-groove. The thing is, that immediately after this happens, Construkt does something unusual by focusing on an electric cello that guides the rest of the band and plays off the bass in interesting ways. The unique sound is enough to keep you listening despite the annoying lyrical repetition and the careless vocal mixing.

None the less, their touting of their schtick as being superior to other styles smacks of truly misguided elitism. Horrorcore, while it can be fun, is inherently insincere. Not to say that fantasy should not be fostered, as it is often more accessible than reality. The problem is, when debauchery is the sole purported purpose of a group, why should we pay attention to any band who is less than the real thing? Why accept anything less than true self-destruction (G.G. Allen, COUM Transmissions) or grave desecration or murder (Emperor, Mayhem)? Construkt claim that they have raised the bar of hardcore by adding an electric cello … ok, just because your movie has a theramin in it, that doesn’t make the script any better. Creating an environment where people can feel free to let off a little steam is great (something that most indie scenes frown upon these days), but why does the biggest concern have to be how popular your band can become? I’m afraid there are a hundred bands out there like Construkt who once they have differentiated themselves by some gimmick, think their creative job is done and work hard only to build a loyal fanbase, garner publicity, and sign a record deal. At least in early 80s hardcore, despite an equal level of stupidity, there were beacons like the poetry of Darby Crash, the intellect of D. Boon, or the tenacity of Bad Brains. Anyone can dye their hair and jump around in their boxers, but please show me just one Horrorcore band that has something to say. I don’t mean to pick on an obscure and struggling group so much, but I think they represent a bigger problem in music. Commodified, stylized, joyless, painless rock music really is horrifying.

Aloha – Rochester – Drama House @ The University of Rochester, NY – 2002-02-16

About half the people who ended up at the Drama House – basically a fraternity-type house for students into drama and theater – were at the location where this show was supposed to take place. Luckily, I went with someone who went to school at Rochester and knew how to get to see the bands. Still, we were a little late, and we missed the opening band, if there was one. But we came in just at the beginning of Aloha’s set, so there were no problems there.

Aloha is a strange band. Basically a unique rock trio, Aloha also has a fourth player who wails away on vibraphone for each and every song. On the album, the vibraphone is a nice, light tone that helps to compliment the songs. Basically, I see it as taking the place of the keyboard that everyone finds so necessary these days. But live, when the guitar-bass-drum combination has more power and volume, the vibraphone was nothing more than a distraction.

Once I stopped paying attention to those light tones coming from the fourth band member, I was very impressed with Aloha. The guitarist doesn’t take too many chances, but the bass and drums are phenomenal, playing very intricate rhythms that really drive this band. And the singer’s unique voice really adds to the band’s sound. One song, the bass player screamed away from the mic, just barely audible for a very interesting and intense effect. In between songs, the band would jam, flowing from one song to the next without giving the fans a chance to really know when to clap, but it did keep the set flowing.

Dianogah, a three-piece Chicago math-rock band, can’t say the same. The frontman – only called so because he was the one who talked – didn’t bother with the mic. The room was quiet enough between songs that he chatted with the fans, even asking for questions and telling stories while the second bass player changed a string. That’s the most unique thing about Dianogah – their two four-string bass players. One would play lead – often playing the bass as a guitar and even once playing it with a pad lock – and the other would play the more typical bass lines. Along with intricate, mathy percussion, the instrumental band plays some very nice, flowing, deep-toned songs.

The problem with Dianogah, especially in a live setting, is that their songs basically all start to sound the same. Occasionally they’d speed up a bit or slow down, but for the most part they keep the same mid-level tempo, plodding along. Any similar band as this – and Volta Do Mar springs to mind – works on repetition, but live the repetition gets very old, while Volta Do Mar and other instrumental bands tend to spice things up a bit.

That’s not to say Dianogah wasn’t fun to hear live. They’re a good band, and they had a connection with the audience that Aloha lacked. Overall, it was a nice pairing of two mid-tempo bands we could enjoy without too much thrashing or obnoxious people. That came later, when we went to the local bar the Bug Jar where we were just in time to catch two of the worst metal bands I was ever subjected to. Still, the beer was good, and it capped a fun night.

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