The Dutchess and the Duke / The Bitters / Mutating Meltdown / Heaven (Bicycle Film Fest afterparty)
Studio Gallery. Saturday, August 22, 2009.
Made one slight error on this night in failing to write down on a scrap of paper the address of the unfamiliar place I was heading to — walked up and down on the south side of College a bit before I realized I was looking for an even number, and then crossed the street and found the spot I was looking for. The venue had a small poster outside the door, but nought else. Up a flight of stairs and pay the cover. The woman running the door has a copy of Ulysses on her table, and I off-handedly ask, "if you finish it before the end of the night, do you get a prize?" She looks at me, confused, and I wince internally — evidently this is not my night to win people over with my wit. Or not yet, anyways, as I find the bar and crack open a PBR.
The space is largely made up of two long, narrow rooms, parallel strips beside each other. One is black-walled and has a small stage at the far end, a DJ set up at a table one one of the long walls, a futon couch at the back beside a sad-looking fake plant. The other room is lit and filled with the slightly muffled sounds coming through the wall, but well-suited for mingling/conversation. The improvised bar is set up in the back. Minutes before eleven, when the first band is scheduled to play, both rooms are pretty much empty. Somewhat trepidatiously, I settle into the couch, and take another look around the darkened room — one entrance, no sprinklers, exposed wiring near the stage, big hole in the ceiling with dried plaster dangling down. The words "Great White" whisper through my mind and my inner Fire Marshall winced a bit.1
In due time, Heaven take the stage. Having seen them just a couple weeks ago, I basically know what to expect, and get a fairly similar set — a bit more compact with five songs in just over a quarter hour. Interestingly, it seems like with a less powerful sound system, the songs are a little less awash in noise and the tunes have a bit more room to creep in. Familiarity might've helped, too, as I recognize a few hooks from the first time 'round. Not out to get you dancing and not out to win you over with onstage amiability, Heaven are putting on a good show regardless. Picked up their CD after the set, though on a quick examination the recorded output is a bit anaemic compared to what they're doing on stage.
Listen to a track from this set here.
After a break and a fairly quick turnover, Mutating Meltdown, out of Austin TX, hit the stage. A three-piece (drums, bass, keyb and everyone singing), they play a slightly herky-jerk kind of de-evolutionary post-punk — imagine early Six Finger Satellite as a surf band. The room is now looking a little emptier — I'm pretty much right up front and not exactly blocking anyone's view. The sound is pretty rough at the outset, and not a lot of vox are getting through, but the band has a fun groove. When Chad said, "this next song is a Styx cover", my recorder inexplicably shut itself down. Towards the end of the set, it all comes together, the songs finding the right balance of sci-fi keybs and feedback and the vox getting back in the mix. There didn't seem to be a large contingent of folks out for this band, but they were right down my alley.
Listen to a track from this set here.
Between sets, the room starts to fill up. The Bitters' crowd has arrived — rambunctious and passing around 40's of Old English. Once ready to go the band plays a powerful short set — "We only have five songs, so we're just gonna chill a minute" singer Ben Cook3 tells us in a tuning break between songs. It was sweaty fun, but I realize after the fact that I don't actually remember the music at all. Checking the recording, it comes back to me some — good old fashioned rock'n'roll energy with a punkish edge, co-ed vox up front from Cook and Aerin Fogel, and a beachball bouncing around the crowd. The band also brought along a good old-fashioned anti-most-things punk rock attitude ("Keep shoplifting our records from Soundscapes!") which the BYOB crowd ate up. I was mildly worried about the audience, but aside from some beer being mouth-sprayed into the air, this was a decent crowd of people to be in.2
Listen to a track from this set here.
After a quick break from the Black Room to cool off a bit, I return and note that the last band of the night are eschewing the stage, and setting up their gear on the floor. Before things get too crowded, I figure to stake out some real estate near the front of the crowd. Except for having been told that this is their DIY gig on the side after being the night's openers for Modest Mouse, I know pretty much nothing about The Dutchess and the Duke. But not long into the set, I realize I'm being completely fucking blown away. R&B in the sense that early Stones or Them or The Animals were R&B, the band (a five-piece co-fronted by the titular Kimberly Morrison and Jesse Lortz) had a batch of excellently-written songs, delivered here with off-the-cuff casualness blearily sagging into exhausted raggedness. It really felt like there was zero distance between performer and audience: shakers and tambourines were shared around, we sweated like they sweated, and the drummer's bottle of Johnny Walker Red got passed around so everyone could get a swig. By the end of the set, the walls were dripping with condensation and guitars were well nigh impossible to keep in tune. A singalong of "I Am Just a Ghost" capped the set — one of the best shows of the year.
I note that their sophomore album is due in early October, so hopefully it won't be long before they pass our way again.
Listen to a track from this set here.
1 I got the same feeling a bit later on heading to the bathroom, noting that all the party's patrons' were sharing a co-ed facility with one urinal and one toilet stall — less than pleasing, I'm guessing, to the line of women consigned to waiting on that one toilet.
I actually spent a bit of time while at the show — and more after the fact — thinking about the tensions between the event's DIY spirit and the sort of amenities I usually take for granted at a venue. While I realize I sort of have a vested interest in the folks putting these things together keeping the overhead low — so that it's cheap for me at the door and (hopefully) the artistes are getting paid at the end of the night — but I do appreciate some of those "finer things" at a venue. Call me soft and decadent. On the other hand hand, if it had to go through all of the nanny-state's bureaucratic wrangling, there's no way that shows like this would go on at all. I dunno, I guess — I'm totally not in the loop enough to know much about shows taking place in the "grey market", so maybe I was worry too much about small things.
2 Which applied for the whole night, really. Partially just due to the two-roomed layout and the sheer volume by the stage, anyone not there for the band was wise to stay next door, meaning this was an attentive, well-into-the-music crowd, far less yappy than many a show I've been at.
A special note of praise for DIY kingpin Mark Pesci, the guy who put this whole thing together. This was an event serving several different audiences — I'm sure there were plenty of folks there for the party part of it and indifferent to the bands, as well as some like me who were just the opposite. (there were even a few peopel there for the "bicycle" element of it, based on a couple of guys I saw wearing spandex shorts and those little Tour de France hats.) It was nicely set up so as to keep the "just here to make the scene" crowd separate from the bands, which I appreciated.
3 Also of Fucked Up, and holder of a lengthy punk CV.
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