One of My Past Lives.

In a past life I used to roam the streets and descend on clubs as a music reviewer.

I wrote for two sites:

The Wig Fits All Heads
REDEFINE magazine

Selected reviews below:

La Cha-Cha
iViva!
by Nicholas Hubbard
03.09.08

Alternative rock—that distorted, grungy, guitar-driven stuff that showed up in the late eighties/early nineties—is almost twenty years old. I guess that’s about the age when we start to regard it as classic. Once a genre reaches that milestone, new artists who play within it are not mimics, they are revivalists. Enter Spokane, WA’s La Cha-Cha.

Their latest album, iViva!, is about as alt-rock as you can get. It breaks out of that label on occasion, with catchy hand-claps and hip-hop influenced percussion, but never strays far. If you like Blind Melon, you will like this album. Sometimes I say such a thing and it’s not a compliment. This time it’s a compliment—not just ‘cause I like Blind Melon, but because iViva! is as (forgive me) vivacious as that band was.

Things revived in its thirteen tracks:
*heavily distorted power chords
*lead guitar solos of the Mike McCready lineage
*sustained vowels a la Anthony Kiedis

La Cha Cha, short for Larren (Wolford) Chad (Kauppi) and Chad (Wiser), burst out of your stereo with the insistent “Talk Zero.” It’s a great way to start an album that is consistent in style and varied in tempo. “Into the Blood” and “Put it Down” are two of the more subdued songs and I appreciate them for that; on each the trio is able to engender some of that pain that a good bend of the guitar string delivers. iViva! has a nice bipolar feel to it, in the subtle way most of our lives do. It ends with the quiet of “Circle of Lines,” to match the pounding that began the album.

More on La Cha-Cha: www.myspace.com/vivalachacha.

The World’s Burning Down:

Feral Children at the High Dive, 2/8/08

Like the satisfaction of a whiskey shot—the one you’ve had on your mind all week—the Feral Children came through at the High Dive in Seattle on 2/8. I’m still practically foaming at the mouth over this show. Though the stage was cramped and strewn with stray instruments—I was just waiting for Jim Cotton to step on that cymbal—they managed to fit two sets of drums front and center. One was your conventional arrangement, the other was tribal. They were played from the opening bars like some ferocious nightmare of Animal, the Muppet. The crowd, also cramped, was just about drooling over the band. Everyone was singing along; everyone knew the words.

I think they wanted to bring the house down, literally. The increasing pace of each song was regulated by Jeff Keenan at the tribal drums, who appeared to have raided Abbie Hoffman’s wardrobe as well as his riotous personality. He barked, “I’m a little slow today, I haven’t been sleeping…enough of that interesting story…I got a fever…I got a fever for cowbell.”

Keenan and drummer Bill Cole went back and forth on each track like two dueling monkeys, all fists to chests and teeth bared. Cotton’s vocals were regrettably weak (could have been a sound engineering issue) against this backdrop. His use of feedback, knees to the floor, body positioned to defile the amp, was brilliant and jarring. It cut through the rhythm and right through my ears. The salve? Those caveman harmonies they got going on songs like “They’re Gonna Kill Me.”

And speaking of killing, I’m grateful that the Feral Children rocked, because I was also there to see the Purrs, who were headlining, and that’s a painful disappointment barely worth mentioning. A subtle endorsement for the Feral Children: half the audience left when they did.

Annuals
November 10, 2007 – The Crocodile – Seattle, WA
by Nicholas Hubbard
01.06.08

Adam Baker walks out to loud cheers looking like a minstrel at a Renaissance Fair. He has no shoes on. He smiles and calls out, “Hey, alright!” waving at the crowd. He stands in front of two KORG synthesizers and to his left, on another KORG, is Anna Spence in a fairytale dress, ruffles at the wrist and cut short like a 60s film costume. Four others (Kenny Florence, Zack Oden, Mike Robinson and Nick Radford) with equally varied appearances, fill the stage to brimming.

When they’re prepped, the tension at the Crocodile is high and it seems hard for the Annuals to sync up on “Complete or Completing.” Their sound is, if you can imagine, even more raw than on album, and feels slower, more like a calliope at a carnival than rock and roll. As the song reaches its orchestral climax, they’ve picked up their energy and we’re all feeling great. Baker is playing drums, keys, and singing. “We’re Annuals, by the way,” he says, “nice to meet you.”

It’s blatantly clear how many instruments are involved in this band’s repertoire. They are an orchestra–a symphony–and they play like maniacs. They play like maniacs on about three instruments each.

“Dry Clothes” is rendered as a spacey guitar opera, with keyboards possessed and all heads banging. This performance is becoming more and more physical, and suddenly the six players duck down really low and the song finishes in a murky sample of strange voices. There is this sense of the immense stylistic range Baker, Spencer, Florence, Oden, Robinson and Radford can cover in one number.

“Fair,” their next, could be straight gospel, feels southern, gets at your heart. It requires furious playing, with four drummers and a wealth of harmonies.

They transition into a song from the Git’ Got EP, “River Ride,” that’s like honky-tonk, ragtime. Baker is leonine, mouth wide and teeth bared. From here they traverse hip-hop, psychedelic guitar work–with Florence on lead vocals–and progressive rock.

They give thanks to New Frontiers and Manchester Orchestra, “We love them and they’re beautiful,” and dark transition like something from “Thriller” leads them into “Carry Around.” It has synth effects that are something Perry and Kingsley would have approved; they’re glowing. The lights go dark and “Brother” is all about the details. Annuals are enjoying themselves and their artistry. Manchester Orchestra rushes on stage, backing on vocals and drums. The epic meter is way up in here.

After ten songs, it’s about time to head home. “We’re gonna skip the encore bullshit and just play another one for you.” Annuals close with Van Halenesque guitar heroics. They walk off and we all roar. We roar so much that they’re back in about thirty seconds. “We don’t usually do encores, ‘cause we’re bad at them.” Bullshit. The night ends with a soaring version of “Chase You Off,” and off we go.

More on Annuals: www.annualsmusic.com / www.myspace.com/annuals.

Big Spiders Back

Self-Titled
Independent
B

<p>Local artist crafts an EP that wraps you up tight and won’t let go.</p>

There are too many spiders in my apartment. This place has a way of feeling claustrophobic, and the arachnids don’t help. Big Spider’s Back’s eponymous EP fills me with nearly the same desperation, except it’s irresistible. I much prefer Big Spider’s Back’s haunting tracks to the webs in my corners; both are fine and intricate, and Yair Rubinstein’s songwriting captures the desolate expanse between people the way eight legs never could. There’s a clever mix of folk styling and samples, which peaks at the close of “Great Divide”. The bubbles, laughter and chimes are chilling. They smother the vocal harmonies that fill out the song to a satisfying end.

However, “Great Divide” is the only piece of the recording that seems near complete. Everything else (including “Evil Brothers”, which I love) has a sense of atrophy. Of course that just amps up the tension, but the vocal sections/lyrics could be fleshed out. I want the little spiders gone, and I want more of Big Spider’s Back. The artist says he’s “workinonit”.

Reviewed by: Nicholas Hubbard.

Fast Computers
Heart Geometry
(Coeur Electronique)
by Nicholas Hubbard
10.28.07

Be prepared to dance, robots everywhere! Heart Geometry by The Fast Computers is a piece of intricate hardware that is sprawling enough to keep any android nervous system running at top performance. The gorgeous symphonic layering on these eleven tracks is due to the superhuman abilities of the component band members to play more than your default guitar, bass and drums. Listen for the jangles. They deftly program in electric piano, glockenspiel and synthesizer.

Shifting from up to down tempo, these tracks cover an emotional cityscape including joyful heights and somber back-alleys. You can even measure it out by the influences they reference. From Black Heart Procession (“Alarms Below”) to World Party (“Invisibility”) just about every major piano/synth-playing pop group pops up on Heart Geometry and it works. Peter Dean can sound like Dave Gahan (Depeche Mode) or Marc Almond (Soft Cell), even Roger Waters (Pink Floyd), but are his vocals muted—even lackluster—to highlight the music, or does the instrumentation have to make up for them? Whatever the case, the smartly encoded lyrics are enough to distract from whatever is absent in the quality of his singing. If you ever get stuck inside your laptop (think Jeff Bridges in Tron) you will want this record to be your soundtrack.

More on Fast Computers: www.thefastcomputers.com / www.myspace.com/fastcomputers

Sea Wolf

Chop Suey
Seattle, WA

I wouldn’t recommend reading Jack London novels late at night. They are beautiful and hypnotic, and the more you try to focus, the further you drift away. LA band Sea Wolf, who took their name from London’s 1904 work of the same title, had just this effect on me in the dim midnight light at Seattle’s Chop Suey. They came on stage looking like sailors about to embark on an adventure, and I was restless for just that sort of thing, but they almost put me to sleep. A vast romance was created with steady rhythm guitar by frontman Alex Brown Church and emphatic drums by Scott McPherson. However, Church’s narrative lyrics were mostly lost against the instrumental backdrop and murmuring from the crowd. Aniela Perry’s low tones on cello didn’t help raise the energy level — appropriate as those tones are for the oceanic mood the band seems to craft. Everything I like about Sea Wolf — a consistent musical setting for literary songwriting, emotional and sonic heaviness, and inspiration from an excessively descriptive (read: epic) American author -– made their live presence, at least when pushing 1:00 am, sort of lethargic. Their set just didn’t move like their music usually moves. It didn’t take me anywhere — unless you count toward dreaming as somewhere. I could swear Church was dressed in a cap like an Alaskan fisherman, but maybe that was my imagination. The sea sickness, no doubt, came from the bar.

Reviewed on 10/05/07 by Nicholas Hubbard.

Prosser
Prosser
(Clickpop)
by Nicholas Hubbard
08.19.07

How one man, Eric Woodruff (with a little help from his friends), can inspire the craving to set out across Eastern Washington in a dented old Mustang with fraying upholstery is beyond me. You might have a slightly different vision, but the desire will be the same. Having faithfully listened to their Wilco records, Woodruff and his posse then proceed to fill up the fourteen tracks on Prosser with scenic alt-country that is so earnest it can’t be derivative. Though Woodruff’s handling of multiple instruments is admirable, Dylan Rieck, Paul Turpin and Josh Haupt help to expand the sound on a number of his compositions.

About the only thing that prevents me from taking Prosser out to my Civic and leaving town right now is the second half of the album. The high point is “State I’m In.” Then, like the countryside that you run into just through Snoqualmie Pass, it’s so unvaried that you don’t pay attention anymore. You realize all the songs have a similar ring and it slows down too much after the initial thrills of “A Worthy Seed” and “The Time Has Come.” I’ll be excited to see where Prosser takes me when their range grows wider.

More on Prosser: www.prossermusic.com / www.myspace.com/prossr..

Feral Children
Eternity Emergency
by Nicholas Hubbard
07.15.07

I kind of wish I’d gotten trashed before I listened to the Feral Children’s EP. Their five-songs together have what I think would be the memorable impact of a brawl at a small town bar: numb jaw, ringing ears and the feeling that you’ve somehow hardened inside and out. “They’re Gonna Kill Me” makes my head throb, in a good way. The industrial sound of “Baby Brother” is almost as sadistic as the lyrics and it’s still catchy. Pissin’ on graves, shit-eating grins and sharp fingernails are littered throughout the tracks. Yeah, I could use a drink. Eternity Emergency is surprisingly eclectic despite a running theme of constriction and uselessness; you can see where all the Modest Mouse comparisons come from. These guys’ grumbling is barely intelligible sober, but becomes damn intelligent after a few listens. Kind of harsh and tragic, but intelligent. Eternity Emergency is a Northwest record. It’s somber, gravelly and clashes with our current, rare bout of sunshine. Jim Cotton and Jeff Keenan’s vocals remind one of the best days of Mark Lanegan, and Christian Dorsett’s drums take a lot of their punch from the early 90s, when bands began to look like they drove pick-up trucks and were too busy gritting their teeth to shave. Except I think these guys really do drive trucks.

More on Feral Children: www.feralchildrenmusic.com / www.myspace.com/theferalchildren.