A really big show

AS220's Sound Chex amplifies local rock, et al.

by Michael Caito

Over Flower

In the rock and roll church there's always been ample space reserved for guitar guy, singin' about life's vagaries and twists of fortune. This icon usually presents a rakish front, the better to solicit empathy through a combination of sly wit and an incorruptible open-heartedness which frequently ends in romantic train wrecks. This naive knave nave is usually packed with supplicants, as is, unfortunately, the naive knave grave. In an all-day festival you'd expect no less than half the performers to fall under this description, and Saturday's Sound Chex benefit -- for AS220's amplification needs -- was no different, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Jetpack, V for Vendetta, The Iditarod, Broadcaster, Damon Campagna, Romola, Plymouth Rock, Ted Only Knows, Larry Marshall, Overflower, Stringbuilder, Battery Park, Doosh Bags: Live at AS220, 11.9.98

I'd already explained to three suburban strangers what the "AS" in AS220 stands for (Art Space, FYI, just like public schools in big cities are sometimes called PS138 or whatever), when the guitarist from V for Vendetta strapped on her sunburst Rickenbacker. Took a quick guess at this entrancing guitar's age and was off by four years, so figured it was finally time to bounce. In other words, apologies to the final three bands I missed.

Doosh Bags opened, replacing rockers/cinematographers Flicker, and the trio blasted through a messy set of hardcore, topped with crusty vocals from the bassist, which unfortunately didn't live up to the potential hinted at in their recent contribution to Get Dun Records' six-band vinyl compilation. "Oi! Jason," a funny song about the slasher flick demon, would've fit well with various anti-commercialism rants (potshotting Pepsi and silly radio stations), but they never quite came together. The trio Battery Park found Ray Memery hooking up with a former Groundhawgs drummer in a set that was a big improvement over the outfit Memery led to the Rock Hunt semis this year, with Ray and drummer Mike doing very well by their vocals and lending a mood that was part Evan Dando, part Bob Mould. Memery can write. Overflower followed, a supergroup of sorts whose linchpin, John Orsi, is a longtime area percussionist whose love of textured, ethereal melodies coupled with stylish beatkeeping has been a happy constant for years. His frequent collaborations haven't yet borne the fruit which this quartet promises, featuring Karen (ex-Pistolwhip), Jay Bouchard (ex-Euthanasia) and Bouchard's bassist brother sharing vocals with Karen. Listening carefully through a tortuous mix (at no point in the day was it clearer that the Space badlyneeds a new PA), lefty Jay switched from his earlier bands' bass duties to a digitally-augmented guitar which overpowered the second guitar and vocal from the Pistolwhip alumna. Orsi, whose kit playing skill was surpassed only by Kara (V for V) in the bands I heard, dances around the dangerous border of overplaying, but in the numerous ensembles which he has graced haven't featured as much accumulated firepower. The songs are longish and expansive, more classically-structured, in terms of variations on an initial theme, than pop-oriented, and in this case evoked memories of airplane flights, with a 25,000-foot elevation sense of eerie calm and a tiny little voice in the back of your head realizing that this calm was generated through the cooperation of all sorts of muscular engines and precisely-calibrated instruments. Expansiveness without mopiness, tension without sweat. Very nice.

Alec, one half of the duo Stringbuilder, mentioned later that the duo will have a record out on the Massachusetts-based Grimsey label in December, simultaneously released with one by Beantown press darlings Damon &Naomi. Guitar duo Stringbuilder at first brought up images of the brothers Everly (no idle comparison), but later meted out enormous helpings of more contemporary-sounding melodies. It's nice when a pop band has a great singer (rare enough in these parts) but more encouraging still to learn that they have two, and that friendship with the Purple Ivy Shadows gang will ensure that Stringbuilder's ongoing quest for a rounded-out lineup will meet with success, as PIS's core duo eventually did. Good songs, great singing, and a band (originally from Maine) to watch.

Larry Marshall is an intentional enigma. Cutting a slice from Chick Graning's tasty poetic cake, he intentionally plays hacked chords in self-accompaniment on guitar, and it works live a lot better than it has on the assorted demos he's sent here recently. There's a rascally gleam in his eye (heightened by an onstage pal who did nothing more than read a book while Marshall strangled major chords and tossed in a coupla perfect displays of guitar harmonics which may or may not have been total accidents. A scam? A sham?Doubt it. What is not accidental is his vocal pitch, which during some shining moments acted as perfect counterweight to the sonic food processor his hands wrought on his hollow-body's neck. Looking forward to hearing more.

Ted Only Knows is an entirely mood-dependent trio of 14-year-olds, keys / bass / drums, who in their good moments dally among Ben Folds and vintage Elton / Taupin configs, but during the more precious (and slapable) times -- as when they trampled AS220's explicit no-covers mandate with an inexcusably dopey Steve Miller cover -- showed their age. Insofar as they also include the son of Trinity Rep legend Eugene Lee, there's lots to be anticipated from these energetic whippersnappers, and if you're in the right mood (and they do their part by shoring up the live chops) they may kick the crap outta Hanson. Of course they have a CD out.

Plymouth Rock followed with a set heavy on the tunes from their upcoming CD (recorded at Sound Station 7, played intermittently between sets all day), and the Providence trio seem to be one of the (many) bands who have big trouble getting the stage to meet the studio. Happening on their Load Records comp track and in both sets I've seen this month, it shows little sign of improving, though their 'tween-tune patter is engaging and Jed Marshall (of whom I've been a long-time fan) adds as much melodic whomp with his under-appreciated basslines as Mills did on the first coupla R.E.M. records. They (including guitarist / vocalist Geoff Griffin) still kinda can't sing to save their lives, though they've masked this perpetual shortcoming fairly effectively through tidy, episodic snapshots, and well-constructed, if plaintive, mini-scenarios leaning less on Wilco and more on JoJo.

Damon Campagna was the only other soloist beside Marshall, and the Gravity Engine / Laurels alum overcame what he later described a a monster case of pre-set jitters with one of those sets you always describe by saying you wish he'd had a band with him. The songs are there, as is the pop smithy savvy of Damon's pal Graning (moved to New York, alas) and the more desperate, demonic world described with such force and conviction by Damon's former bandmate Jeff Toste of Laurels and Heparin Records fame. Campagna scuffled at times in handling the solo duties (unlike Marshall, whose scuffling seemed intentional), but the kernels of truth which he let fall over the course of his set will hopefully germinate in a full band setup.

Romola are a work-in-progress still sketching an identity, probably due to the very different singing styles of the two male leads. Sometimes the quartet sound like Smashing Pumpkins on muscle relaxers, but most of the time theirs is a comfy, upholstered melodi-pop world where feelings are kept on a very short leash. Broadcaster, on the other hand, weren't afraid to vent, which the trio did with an uncoiling, high-velocity ferocity that could keep 'em buzzing in sk8 parks from West Warwick to Middletown. The Iditarod represent Providence's newly-relocated Baltimore contingent, and it looks like we're in for some fun from Kevin (who runs the now-locally-based Magic Eye Records) and pals. Kevin spent an entire song playing an acoustic guitar in his lap, nothing out of the ordinary until you noticed he had positioned a slide on the neck, which he was making roll slowly up and down until, at song's end, he let the metal tube tumble off the headstock with a plop. Meanwhile he and the others of the Iditarod delivered with a hushed, amiable set which also saw contributions from Margie (Difference Engine) switching between upright bass and snare brushes. Delicate melodies which simultaneously managed to be stark given Karen's gentle vocal, the Iditarod's willingness to rewrite some pop rules brought the evening into focus, and started a tremendous three-band stretch which capped my visit. The duo V for Vendetta may have been my faves along with Stringbuilder, with that exceptional drumming (from Kara, but Iguess the rule is drummers have to play a killer kit to work at In Your Ear) and a guitarist who actually knew how to wring the proper, definitive sound out of that "early"1973 Rick. Whether duelling guitars or changing into a guitar/drum setting which finished the set, Vfor Vendetta are a strong, evocative instru duo.

I'd heard many good things about and recorded by Keith Souza, mostly from Christian Blaney (Arson Family) whose Mobcore Records trio swears by Souza's studio wizardry at Sampson Studios in Tiverton where he starts recording Arson Family's next full-length, for the Long Beach, CA-based Know Records, which released that recent Dead Kennedy's tribute you read about here (Arson intelligence also reports that the Simpsons punk comp, on which they appear, is now out).

Jetpack's comic book / zine / seven-inch vinyl concerning their own superhero Investigator Man got an OKreview in this space a while back, but in hindsight that platter has never moved too far away from the turntable in the interim. Having not seen the trio live since, I(along with the crowd)was cracking up at the sight and sound of a stuffed doll placed onstage with a mic whose recording was a hilarious string of Chuckie-esque pre-recorded murder threats and invective. The trio kept within the strengths of the Investigator Man vibe, as the music -- noose-tight, lean-forward-in-your-seat stuff that would (and did) make a perfect soundtrack to a rollicking superhero action flick -- simmered just below a boil, creating a tension and innate momentum hard to ignore. In the few instances where Jetpack boiled over, they still exhibited a fighter pilot's precision, furthered by Souza's occasional vaguely menacing vocal cooing, and their exciting, well-rehearsed set -- leavened with the between-song running commentary of the doll, whose voice even more uproariously decelerated as his batteries wore down -- flew by. Great stuff from the Rue de L'Espoir-inspired trio who call the street's historically-prodigious town --  that would be Bristol -- home.

STARS AND BARS. Those who miss Saturday's Classical Series concert at Vets won't get to see Larry Rachleff at the Philharmonic podium again until the next of that Series' performances in mid-January. This week, the featured soloist is East Providence High School alumna Lori Phillips, who will also give a Masterclass at Brown Friday. Reminder:unsold tickets go on sale for students with current IDs one half-hour before curtain, which means if it's not sold out you're in for five bucks, an incredible deal. Saturday's program continues the orchestra's recent reinvigoration of Charles Ives, along with Mahler and Mozart. See you there.

Same night (only later) Buffalo Tom and Cake make an interesting pair at Lupo's and the Met. Also, with CMJ just over there are always lotsa bands coming through on concurrent tours. Two of note are Remy Zero and Cats & Jammers. The former have released Villa Elaine (DGC), the strongest record I've heard this year (so far), with keen, memorable pop craftiness in the vein of Radiohead, mid-era U2, Sugar and Queen. That sounds like an odd stew, but it's delicious. At presstime their November 17 Met gig was very much up in the air, but even so:this record is phenomenal, all Hollyweird hype (DGC's whomp, singer's engagement to Alyssa Milano; Courtney Love's deeming it the year's best) aside. Cats and Jammers are a friendly pop trio outta Chicago in the vein of Beantown's oh-so-happy Push Kings, with the necessary canniness to couch serious problems in glorious, concise melodies which evoke the best work of the late, estimable small factory. Highly recommended for pop enthusiasts, they're at the Call November 15th with Wesley Willis (an unforgettable performer). The C&J record Hurray for Everything (Beluga) is a mood lifter.

Hey, anyone else notice that both Bruins are actually hot? With goalies like this, it looks like those cellar seasons for the PB's may be a memory, at least this year. Almost every Friday they're home, and you're out by 10, perhaps bringing home a souvenir piece of frozen vulcanized rubber. Deal.