The Seedy Seeds, The Ridges and Alex Miller / February 7, 2013 / Casa Cantina

By: Colin Roose, News Editor

Strings. Brass. Bows. Capos. That neck harmonica thing. Flannel shirts. This was to be a spectacle. Somewhere among the tangled hell of amps and chords that occupied the Casa stage Thursday evening lingered a tangible air of wonder. 

Weaving its way through the well-occupied stage into the possibly fire code-violating mass of bodies on the floor, it lasted well into the evening, transcending the drunkenness that typically consumes all by midnight. 

Wonder of the musicians, who played with the kind of dexterity usually reserved for concert halls and jazz clubs. Wonder of the audience, which packed together so tightly there was hardly any room for the inevitable dancing. And most of all, wonder at everyone coming together on a cold Thursday night to marvel at the magic made by the people under the red lights shouting, stamping and feeling the primal passion.

After arriving at the show a half hour after the start time as per my custom, I witnessed the syncopated charisma of Alex Miller. The stripped-down guitar-and-drums combo, despite being as stripped down as a rock format can get, was a vehicle in which he explored the notion of creative covering.

In fact, I entered as he was launching into a mashup of Tom Petty's "Mary Jane's Last Dance" and the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Dani California." Which is a pretty good indication of how little he cared for genre borders.

Smoothing out every space between his notes into a laid-back funk groove, his style of guitar playing seemed to be ready-made for the slowly growing audience to jive along. Avoiding straight 4/4 beats, his drummer played busy dance rhythms that stretched all of his covers out into a slow, easy mood groove. He played all of them on his own terms, too--everyone from Whitney Houston to the Beastie Boys got the treatment.

He certainly had swagger. In the middle of his sultry "Let's Get It On" cover, my concert partner and fellow ACRN writer Justin Silk turned to me and laughed, "Someone's got a little too much self-esteem."

But I think tackling a Marvin Gaye tune almost implies that. Especially when that self-esteem was used to create such a convincing guitar impersonation of the soul classic.

And the voice. Oh, the voice. Roaring out the rockers, crooning out the ballads, he landed somewhere between John Frusciante and Kurt Cobain, with a heavy dose of likeability thrown into the mix. It was pure seduction--how could it not be when you cover "Let's Get It On?"

In fact, the several '90s covers he played fit nicely into his party-friendly groove style. "Say It Ain't So," "Two Princes," "Santeria"--it was pretty much a jukebox of radio hits from your childhood. If you want a guaranteed way to warm up a bunch of college kids, play all the poppy rock hits of our childhood that interested us in rock in the first place.

If only he had played "Tubthumping" or "Semi-Charmed Life" he would have hit on almost every post-grunge radio hit of the decade.

Next up was the main course. As the nine members of The Ridges piled on to the stage, it was clear that they were once again about to bond all the individual drinking, moving bodies of Casa into a single entity under their command. 

The banjos, cellos and accordion were all par for the course for this monolith of Athens music, who took its salad bowl of influences and dunked the head of each listener into it.

In fact, from the way the members warmed up on the stage, you would hardly guess that they were about to play the same kind of music, let alone be in a band together. 

There was a trumpet player in jazz concert attire playing licks, one member looked straight out of Appalachia with his banjo and flannel shirt, and the drummer was the rocker, sitting down to the kit in jeans and a white shirt. 

Always unpredictable, those Ridges. Upon hearing a martial drumbeat, rollicking guitar, or impassioned vocal during the sound check, I always thought they were going to start their first song. But could you blame me, when their songs could start with wild screaming, rapid bowing, or a classical cello solo?

Now, I could tell you that they played songs with titles like "Jackson Pollock," "Dawn of Night" and "Maritime Death Waltz." I could tell you that there was a virtuosic trumpet solo here, pizzicato string plucking there, or a stomping indie beat everywhere. I could mention that they switched between what sounded like 5/8 and 7/8 rhythms.

But that's not what The Ridges are about. Despite having a rock-solid setlist of awesomely-named songs developed in the year since I've first seen them, despite having their technical face together and then some, despite the wide swathe of instruments, none of this was the point.

It was the passion. As proved by everyone on stage. The intense "oh" tribal vocalizations all over every song, the boundless dancing energy of guitarist/singer Victor Rasgaitis, the rapid-fire sawing from the violin and cello players, the tense and heavy slow numbers--this was not a group of songs, this was an experience. 

As if any more passion were needed, it was hot. Like really hot. But that's ok, It's pretty much scientifically proven that a concert isn't really good until you feel the need to remove some article of clothing.

Rasgaitis took the opportunity to talk to everyone somewhere in the middle of all of this and asked, "Is anyone feeling hot?"

"That's what happens when you get so many sexy people in one room," responded cellist Talor Smith, to the whooping and hollering of the flattered crowd.

Rather than standing there stiffly like most bands of their ilk, The Ridges pulsated with life. Every single person on that stage, while intently focused on their particular part, was contributing to something far bigger than anyone in the room. At a time when indie bands' limited formulas burn out after an album or so, this band has created a boundless frontier for themselves, one not built on posture or gimmicks, but on drive.

And, as usual, they ended with reminding us that "we'll all be dead in the end." But instead of leaving on that carpe diem-flavored note, they brought back their grand old tradition of dancing on chairs. Rasgaitis boldly stood on a chair in the middle of a crowd who turned in on themselves to stare at the frontman while the rest of his group provided accompaniment back on the stage.

Showmanship at its finest.

After an O'Betty's break, I came back and watched the Seedy Seeds, a Cincinnati band who "want world domination, but don't want to be jerks about it." 

Well, their machine for Casa domination was well-oiled. Providing live bass and banjo to an endless array of drum and synthesizer loops, they entertained the hardy showgoers who were still there when they took the stage around 1:00.

Proving that classic college rock is not dead, they played the kind of slightly neurotic, politically correct pleasantries that you thought no one had attempted since 10,000 Maniacs and R.E.M. It was loud, but relaxing, and it was nice to just sit and soak it in after the primal stomping of The Ridges.

They played a '90s cover as their last song, too, saying it was in tribute to the aforementioned Alex Miller. I'm sorry. I don't know what it was. I don't know how I can speak to all of you children of grunge when I don't know my Superchunk from my Superunknown.

Even though every single person was drained stepping out of the bar after the four-hour show, the wonder never left. That so many talented people with such varying musical philosophies and approaches could be thrown together for a night by a turn of fate, contributing an entirely singular event in the history of music and then going their separate ways, that was a wonder.

That a bunch of people plucking at strings to create vibrations could grab hold of the attention of nearly the entire city, there was wonder too.

And most of all, the wonder that we live in an age when such complete, concentrated, prodigious musical experiences can be delivered to us weekend after weekend and then vanish into air. We don't know what we have.

Frame Family Band and Fresh Wreckage / Donkey Coffee / September 21, 2012

By: Colin Roose, News Editor

I'm not too keen on ringing in my ears after a concert. As someone who would like to work with audio as a career, as well as a hopeless music-listening junkie, I'm fairly adamant about preventing heavy decibels from reaching my eardrums. For these reasons, I prefer Donkey to smaller, tougher places like the Smiling Skull or The Union, where guitars jangle rather than roar. So I stepped into the coffee joint that evening hoping to achieve maximum comfort sitting in a padded chair and letting the sound waves gently flow into my head.

It did not go as I expected.

No, I walked out of that show wondering if my aural sense had aged a couple of decades. No joke. Not since the Aerosmith stadium concert I went to had I so sorely underestimated the power of determined players. And it was so unexpected! The openers were a group of clean cut, gentle acoustic players and then there was this whirlwind Columbus bunch who might as well have taken an air horn and unleashed its power into my poor un-earplugged cranial appendages.

Why, Donkey? Why must your safe, predictable mom-and-pop walls host such a violent 180° shift? Why must you so beautifully confound my expectations?

Seriously though, the show was really a fantastic contrast. Band lineups are generally geared toward a specific sound or audience, but I for one love it when this is not adhered to.  Beginning with the light, fluffy, pleasant folk of the Frame Family Band, the show didn't lead into another folk group but into the crunchy, alternative sounds of Fresh Wreckage, which was one of the most colorful lineup choices I've ever seen.

The Frame Family Band crowded into their small circle of chairs onstage at 8:00, so close that they had to twist their arms to avoid hitting each other with their guitar and banjo necks. How cute. They clearly weren't going to be hopping around on chairs and shouting like The Ridges.

"We decided to be really cool and instead of printing out our lyrics and stuff, we decided to have a Mac up here," singer Castle Frame told the audience before the first song, perching a blue laptop with that ubiquitous Apple logo on a barstool in front of her. Oh, how I weep for the younger generation, who will never understand the vital importance of handwritten set lists and lyric.

The group kept things simple, usually using two guitars and a banjo to play their usually chord-spare, strum-strummy sort of music. If James Taylor had a band, the Frame Family Band would be a nice approximation of the "Fire and Rain" aesthetic. The vocals had a pretty, unadorned sound that recalled Taylor's everyman feel, and the band laid down the basic chords without worrying about flashiness or showmanship. They were so down-to-earth that their percussionist slapped the box upon which he sat.

In fact, the impression I kept getting from their performance was a charming type of simplicity, the kind that pioneers must have played in their covered wagon circles. That is, if the early Americans played Ween covers. In addition to their originals, they ran through "Chocolate Town" and "Mutilated Lips," softer offerings that fit well with their cozy feel. 

They also went through a John Denver song that wasn't "Sunshine On My Shoulders." I'm a bit relieved now, as I thought I was the only person born after 1974 who still listened to John Denver.

Fresh Wreckage sauntered up next, geared up with pedals, a keyboard and a huge drum kit. They called themselves pop-punk, but they seriously more looked like they walked out of '90s MTV. Flannel shirts, backwards ball caps, the whole bit. Their keyboardist even had a shirt on that said "On Your Mark, Get Set, Go Away." How much more grunge can you get?

This image was bolstered by their inclusion of Alanis Morissette's  "You Oughta Know" in their set. Their quite charismatic singer Bobbi Townes might not have sang in quite as high of a register as Ms. Jagged Little Pill, but she made up for it by sounding like she was mad at hell at whatever poor fellow had the misfortune to make a mess when he went away. Add this to the soaring heroic guitar solos and extended beat-heavy ending and it went from a nice alt-pop song to a pounding alt-pop monster from a young and hungry touring band.

Their originals didn't slouch either. Their sort-of ballad "Forever" soared with the aid of the guitarist Brandon Chapman's ever-shifting tones and processors, and captured the same transcendent soft-to-hard feel of the Smashing Pumpkins' "Today." "Perfect One" utilized a pseudo-classical intro courtesy of the synthesizer's strings that showed that they weren't afraid to change their rebellious tone. "I'm Just Saying" had the should of an old Songbook standard in a modern rock skin.

Their wild card of the night was a cover of Katy Perry's "E.T." mashed together with "We Will Rock You." Townes belted like the original (without all the autotune) and like most band covers of Top 40 songs, they improved upon it by putting some meat on its bones. Props to them for pointing out the subtle rhythm rip-off between the two, as well.

So it was loud, it was soft, it was Seattle circa 1992, it was flower power-ish, and best of all, it didn't repeat itself one bit. Can more venues take a cue from Donkey and stop genre-booking? Please? I won't even mind if I have to protect my ears next time.

ACRN Lobsterfest 2012 / Day Two / June 1 / Casa Cantina

Mindy Braasch

By: Colin Roose, News Editor

Photo Credit: WOUB

By and large, our humble Lobsterfest is primarily a "rock" show. Sometimes punkier, sometimes metal-er, but a vast majority of acts use loud, distorted guitars and pounding drums to make their musical points.

And, in small doses, I can dig that. Shouting, headbanging, screeching feedback, even moshing can be alright when the riffs activate whatever primal mechanism makes people do such things. It ain't noise pollution and it ain't gonna die, or so I'm told.

But while I appreciate the three-power-chord sensibility, my personal tastes gravitate toward songs that are composed rather than written -- songs with a particular and intentional vision, where every note, every sound counts. While the bands at this year's Lobsterfest all entertained in their own raucous ways, only one performer that I saw hid behind no amplification or distortion at all, laying her composing skills bare for those in attendance.

Mindy Braasch opened the Casa portion of Day 2 and once again proved herself to be a different kind of Athens singer-songwriter. Where most solo performers try to show the region's Appalachian heritage through their tunes, her songs are more similar to the soulful, introspective pop of Norah Jones or Adele.

Oh, and she's 17 and already has an album out. Wow. I know my own musical aspirations in high school were mainly indulged by air guitaring to AC/DC, not making records and working with Nashville songwriters.

While the other acts on the Casa bill had crowded masses of smashed patrons jostling each other around, the only slightly tipsy attendees slowly filled the empty space in front of the stage, allowing the performance to receive the attention normally reserved for somewhere like Donkey.

With her guest guitar player, she mixed covers with a number of her own very personal songs, running the gamut from dealing with creative criticism to the never-ending fountain of song inspiration that is love. 

Naturally, these were the songs tailor-made for her style and showed off her sublimely expressive voice (alto but with a range that effortlessly stretched into the higher range when needed). An original song titled "Right Here, Right Now" showed off this versatility the best, going from a deep-toned verse to near-falsetto heights in the bridge.

And the subtle way she changed the melody in the last chorus? That's what takes a song from "good" to "magic."

She switched nearly every song between guitar, piano and ukelele, but never used this ability as a tool for self-indulgence, always picking the right instruments for the songs that needed them. The more inward-looking songs were performed on piano, while the country-flavored "Take Me Away" was done as a guitar duet. 

For the considerable number of people in Casa, you would have thought that more would have drunkenly accepted her invitation to sing along with  a ukelele rendition of "I'm Yours." But this only made it easier to hear her own voice, which hit all the pleasant vocalizations of Jason Mraz while smoothing out the jarring staccato feel of the original.

She also covered "Love the Way You Lie," far surpassing the original by focusing on the pure hook value of the chorus rather than the rap verses. But she still nailed all the rap parts, with God knows how many words there are in that song. The absence of a shrill, doctored Rihanna voice was a particular plus.

Having seen her play at much less-populated venues like Jackie O's, I was impressed by her poise and confidence playing at Casa, which can be intimidating at 10 p.m. on a Friday night. She made sure to give each song an introduction and explained her reasons behind writing them, instead of doing the mumbling-into-the-microphone-seconds-after-the-guitar-feedback-from-the-last-song-faded-away thing. Pretty professional for such a young performer.

So here's to the most nuance-filled 2012 Lobsterfest performance. I mean, I love me some Kyle Sowashes, but I also like hearing myself think when listening to music, and the nuances of Mindy Braasch's set certainly warranted that. From her prescient cover choices to passionate originals, she stole that night's show and seemed ready to make it beyond the diverse, but confining Athens venues. And out of respect for the abundant inspiration in her set, I wish her the best in doing so.

Indigo Wild & The Kyle Sowashes

By: Chris Dobstaff, Reviews Editor

Friday night, we all got a little silly.

And I think we had the right to do so. It was the last week of classes, after all. Finals week is coming up fast and most of us just want one last hurrah before we disperse for the summer and get jobs, internships, or whatever people do during the summer. Friends will go months without seeing each other, so all they want to do now is go out with a bang.

Lobsterfest 2012 provided the perfect opportunity for my friends and I to go out and have some fun. Friday night, or day two of the festival, took place at Casa Nueva. We headed over to the local Mexican eatery (which is where I've seen some of my favorite shows in Athens) and got ready for some music.

The first band we saw was Indigo Wild. If you haven't heard of them, you're missing out. This band has something and I'm not sure if that something will turn into major success, but there is a spark. And Indigo Wild is riding that spark. The band is made up of four musicians who are far more talented than even they realize. Lead guitarist Michael Norris stands almost uncomfortably straight, but when you watch his hands move up and down the neck of his guitar you get lost in the movement. His complex licks define the songs and he quietly plays them while tucked away on the side of the stage -- the band's hidden treasure. 

Drummer Jason Winner grew up listening to hard rock and heavy metal, which is clear to see as he smashes down on his drum kit. While Indigo Wild is more likely to draw comparisons to a band like Local Natives rather than Mastodon, his fills and timing are so precise that it's clear he is a student of the metal genre. What is it that makes metal musicians such perfectionists at their craft? Whatever it is, Winner has it and it's impressive to see him sitting behind his friends and giving them a downright killer beat throughout the entire show.

As a whole, the band rips through a respectable (but sadly short) setlist that gets the crowd (or at least my group of friends) moving. Songs like "When You Say," "On the Hill" and a tune that I can never remember the name of but features the crazy, screaming on repeat lyric of "I can't feel my legs," are all it takes to completely take hold of us. We dance. We jump. We clap. We probably clap in places where we're not supposed to, but we don't care. Indigo Wild has undoubtedly become one of my favorite bands to come through Athens and I will see them every single time they appear here from now on. 

After the show, I spoke with Winner, complimenting him on the performance. He, the aforementioned perfectionist, lamented the fact that his timing was off the entire show. He said the band wasn't as tight as usual. And while I'll admit that the band's performance at Casa in May was the better than Friday's, I still can't find anything to criticize the group on. Apparently, this is Indigo Wild's first performance since a show three weeks ago, and they have not been able to get together to practice between those two shows (two band members live in Columbus, the other two in Cincinnati). And while Winner and the band members would naturally find flaws in their performance, I cannot. The group is very comfortable with one another at this point - so comfortable in fact that going three weeks between shows isn't a problem, even if they may think it is.

We headed outside. I wanted to head to O'Bettys for some chili cheese fries. I hadn't eaten anything for hours, and the Indigo Wild show took a lot out of me. My friend Ben insisted that we hold off on the fries until after The Kyle Sowashes performed. I was dying. Literally. I needed food in my belly, but Ben wouldn't let me cross the street. I feared he may have hurt me if I tried. So I did my best to trust him and headed back inside for a show on an empty stomach.

Somehow I've lived in Athens for two years and had, up until Friday, avoided The Kyle Sowashes. This wasn't an intentional avoidance. I have nothing against the band. In fact, I know nothing about them. So how could I? As they set up, I literally had no idea what they were going to sound like. 

From the first screaming chord, I'm reminded of The Hold Steady. This is the perfect bar band. The guitars rage, the vocals are nothing special, but they don't have to be. The songs are punchy, short and goddamn catchy. I'm instantly angry at myself for wasting two years without this band, but I got as much out of it as I can. There was moshing to be done. And I joined in - at least for a little bit. That was until I accidentally get punched in the back of the head and needed to bow out. But for a while, I went all out. Limbs were flying in front of the stage and I was adding to the mayhem, something that I generally wouldn't do under normal circumstances. But The Kyle Sowashes, and Friday night, were not normal circumstances. This is Lobsterfest 2012 baby. And for a few hours there I got lost in the music, moved and danced like a typical me would be too embarrassed to do, and just had a really, REALLY good time.

And then I ate some chili cheese fries.

Indigo Wild, The Kyle Sowashes & She Bears

By: Hannah Cook, Editorial Director

The second night of Lobsterfest was a wonderful mess. Everyone was in high spirits as we arrived at Casa Cantina to greet Mindy Braasch leaving the stage. It’s a bummer we missed her, but I’m sure the Athens High School songstress created just the right kind of commencement to the night.

Indigo Wild took the stage next and it was clear everyone was pretty excited for that. ACRN is a fan. If you haven’t seen our Hand Picked video series yet, you should. The band has been known to sound akin to Fleet Foxes—an accurate and valuable comparison. The last time I saw this band was a few years ago when they opened up for Pomegranates in Cincinnati. From what I can remember, the band has definitely developed more confidence on the stage. 

ACRN alumni love The Kyle Sowashes -- something about their geeky rock star demeanor just woos them. They're adorably smitten in the presence of the band as they shout along to the goofy lyrics. Meanwhile, the band feeds off that energy, getting their bellies all sweaty in the midst of heaviliy rocking out. It's the kind of moment that makes you love ACRN.

Oh, the good old days. She Bears took the stage last, confronting a still relatively dense crowd. The band, now Columbus based, used to be one of Athens' most prominent. They played nearly every weekend when I was a wee one, manifesting an everlasting impact on the music scene. The crowd was swallowed whole by nostalgia and while I wished to relish in it, I had to wake up early the next day. I bid a fine farewell to Day Two of Lobsterfest.

UCM Benefit Show / May 11, 2012 / Donkey Coffee

By: Colin Roose, News Editor
Photo from: Better Together


Earth Day was held once again this year at Donkey as an Americorps/UCM fundraising concert for a water well in a developing country. True to form for the best coffee shop in Athens, the show featured several songwriters playing mini-sets one after the other.

I'm going to tell you the truth here - normal songwriter-in-the-round sessions are not the kinds of shows I dig. Yes, they show local talent. Yes, they're the least calculated and closest to capturing pure creative impulse. But usually, the diversity and eye-catching elements of a band performance are not to be found. But leave it to a bunch of high schoolers from UGive to arrange a show that both overcame the sameness and presented four distinct creative personalities.

Just as I arrived at the show and sat down with an apple danish (highly recommended, by the way), the first act of the show was welcomed: Jessie Schmitzer, the one player to come onstage armed with only an acoustic guitar. The stripped-down quality of her set and her childlike vocals gave her performance a kind of anti-pretentiousness. It's the kind of feeling you get when you listen to the Juno soundtrack - the realization that, just maybe, the simplest and truest emotions can be conveyed without the use of blaring feedback or dubstep.

The best was her tribute to Whitney Houston - not the sort you'd expect with such an Appalachian-rooted player - with a subtle take on "I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)." Needless to say, there wasn't much of the '80s "synthesizeritis" of the original, but what was left was the compelling vocal moves of the chorus. In fact, the acoustic arrangement revealed a slightly desperate twinge to the song that had initially been completely covered in production gloss. Take notice, folk players - that decade's hits are just waiting to be freed from the grip of drum machines and gravity-defying hairstyles.

Next up was Mindy Braasch, a local high school senior already very serious about performing, as evidenced by her regular gigs at all of the frequented venues around town. Her busy schedule doesn't come as much of a surprise, given her exquisite alto tone and admirable range. Or her multi-instrumental talents, switching between piano and guitar. Or her understanding of the instruments that played the songs in her repertoire best.

She began with a cover of Train's "Drops of Jupiter," a song that I hold dear as one of the first pop songs to which I was ever exposed, but whose vocals I never cared much for. With that issue nonexistent in her performance, the swooping strings of the original gave way to a perfectly pleasing piano ballad. Other covers included "Someone Like You" by Adele, which I honestly had trouble distinguishing from the original (that's a compliment) and "Love the Way You Lie," the lack of Eminem being a particular improvement. All very good choices. Songs with emotional, technically taxing vocals are definitely the way to go for Braasch.

Her originals realized her strengths just as well, relying on emotional experiences from her past to bring out spirited performances. In some cases, they were particularly sensitive. She began one song by warning the male segment of the crowd not to break a songwriting girlfriend's heart, as the incident would be doomed to be repeated endlessly for paying audiences. Note taken.

The third player on the bill was Sarah Stevens, who seemed poised to be the most reserved of them all, taking a seat with the modestly-sized ukelele and almost hiding under her hat. No way - she was the most show-oriented of them all, unabashedly extroverted and then some. Beginning with a medley of O.A.R., Nicki Minaj and God knows who else, she took a four-chord progression and transitioned seamlessly from philosophizing to tipsy rambling. An interesting addition to the legacy of fellow uke-player Israel Kamakawiwoʻole's mash-up songs.

Despite her seemingly effortless stage presence, she admitted that it was actually her first time playing for a real audience. She mentioned her nerves and transitioned to a song about that subject as if on cue, proving that she already had the art of segue down pat. 

After doing an even more unorthodox medley of Ke$ha, Reel Big Fish, Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift (and yes, impersonating all of them), she turned to a more typical Donkey-style choice of "Hallelujah," originally by Leonard Cohen. Since ukeleles just can't play anything sad, the mood of the song was changed from introspective to sunny and the chorus melody was adjusted to be less repetitive. Although I love the original, I understand that its overbearing pathos is not for everyone, so this less grandiose rendition was quite welcome.

She ended with one of those trademark "embarrassing love songs" that was dedicated to someone in the audience. Only in this genre can you find hilariously blunt lines like "I love the way our relationship started with a meatloaf." If having negative songs written about you is the side effect of breaking up with a girl songwriter, this kind of thing must be the side effect of dating one. Might be best to stay out of the business altogether.

The final performer of the night was Tess Stevens, accompanied by Shaun Livingston on lead guitar. The fact that they normally play punk was evident from the beginning of their first song, as they both hammered the strings with a vengeance, but still created a melodic acoustic sound. Perfect for wimps like me who can't stand Ramones-style noisiness.

Following this riffage, Stevens set down her guitar, letting Livingston handle the playing and singing for the rest of the show. The harshness of their original songs did not obscure the taste evident in their performances. Stevens' voice worked soft and refined as well as powerful, a little like a deeper Stevie Nicks. For his part, Livingston's solos translated well to the environment without the need of downtuning or amplifiers.

For their final song, they covered Young the Giant's "Cough Syrup," prominently featured on Glee, a fact that Livingston apparently did not know. He joked that they would "probably never play it again" when Stevens announced it. It seems even the stage isn't safe from divisiveness over the corniest music-based show on TV.

So there you have it - four local artists, four different mixes of covers and originals and four varying outlooks on the popular music landscape. Donkey surprised me by doing a Casa and going for diversity instead of the expected acoustic-intimate show. The credit, of course, goes to all the players involved, who innovated beyond the expectations of this jaded Donkey show-goer. Kudos.

(And thanks for the unexpected relationship advice. A significant other with emotional baggage and a guitar in her hand is a catch-22 of embarrassment and dirty laundry.)

Adam Remnant, Jesse Remnant, Todd Burge and Billy Matheny / February 27 / Donkey Coffee

By: Colin Roose, Staff Writer

Since I usually only go to the free-for-all amateur open-mic nights, it was a something of a star-studded evening when I witnessed the songwriter-in-the round performance of Adam Remnant, Jesse Remnant, Billy Matheny and Todd Burge at Donkey Coffee on Saturday.

I have to admit I came into the show unaware of the pedigrees of any of the participants. In fact, their description on Donkey's website was the extent of my knowledge of them, which was something to the effect of "the finest songwriting talent in the area."

Now, just about anyone who's walked down Court Street will tell you that that is the kind of phrase routinely scrawled on those show posters taped to lampposts, and being something of a jaded Donkey showgoer, my expectations weren't exactly sky-high. But all it took was one round to prove definitively that not only were these guys professionals through-and-through, they were indeed some of the finest guitar buskers in a town already filled to the brim with promising folkies.

The half-an-hour late start time meant that I could grab an iced chai and claim that sweet armchair right in front of the stage before the show. I love Donkey.

The crowd slowly filed in after me, being the usual types that populate the back room, sitting at tables, chatting, reading a book. But when the four gentlemen stepped up onto the stage, the little noise there was erupted into applause that was louder than anything else that evening. This wasn't going to be amateur night.

Anything but, actually. The Remnants and Matheny are three-fourths of Southeast Engine, the poster children for Athens folk music whose latest album Canary received rave reviews and got them featured on NPR. Todd Burge is an accomplished West Virginian songwriter who has performed at CBGB's and the Country Music Hall of Fame. Yet despite their differing affiliations, their performances, both as an ensemble and individually, were cohesive and complementary to the point that I wonder why they aren't all in a band together.

After the warm welcome to the performers, there was surprisingly little non-musical noise onstage or offstage. No whooping. No whistling. No grinding, thank God. There was only total concentration, so palpable that every plucked guitar string, every tapped piano key could be felt as if it were the only motion in the room. Such an environment created the atmosphere needed for all four songwriters, whose only common trait was their predilection for storytelling, part relationships, part introspection, and all soul.

Adam Remnant was up first, playing a clean electric guitar with a slight country twinge. Being the lead vocalist for Southeast Engine, his set predictably included some songs from his band. Being unfortunately unfamiliar with the Appalachian authenticity of their music, I couldn't name them, but the others backed him up with harmonica, acoustic guitar, and piano for a full band treatment. His patience was admirable as he fingerpicked simple-yet-effective chord sequences and philosophized about relationships. With his almost childlike voice, you couldn't help but believe every word he said.

Next in the sequence was Todd Burge, whose technical acoustic flash and charisma validated his twenty-year performing experience. Chatting up the attendees with stories of his lyrical inspiration, he managed to touch on Facebook statuses, the film Easy Rider, and the story of Jesus throughout one show.

But even though his influences for songwriting weren't very traditional, his playing certainly was - watching him play, I felt like I was sitting in on a back porch performance by a Tennessee mountain dweller. Even while strumming the complex Dixieland-like patterns, he was still able to show off his personality and singing range through his loud vocalizing along with the guitar melody. Burge was a fantastic all-around showman and earned his place as the bon vivant of the evening.

Adam's younger brother Jesse followed, who showed the least pure folk influence of the four. Although he categorized his first song as "electric blues," his performance was far less formulaic than that name would imply, staying away from predictability with an indie singer-songwriter feel.

His skill as backing singer for Southeast Engine particularly shined, as he came up with amazing vocal-centric melodies and jumped up into the falsetto range during the climactic bits. That kind of wailing is in just about every singer-guitarist's back of tricks, supposed to show emotion and be "beautifully ugly," but the average belter usually overdoes it and leaves out the "beautiful" part. Remnant is one of the few I've seen who can use the technique to reach breathtaking peaks instead of just blowing a lot of hot air onto his microphone, and added a layer of honesty to his songs about love and falling asleep driving on the highway.

Billy Matheny played last in each round, hopping between piano and guitar as needed. He began one of his rounds by announcing his intention to name his next EP Exile on Main St. 2 and asked the audience to promote the title on Twitter with "that pound key thing" before jumping into his soft, intimate-feeling compositions. The keys he pressed on the piano were often simple chords, but they had the catchiness of a nursery rhyme, having an almost Leonard Cohen-like way of sinking in.

One of the most jaw-dropping parts of his set was when he picked up a guitar and mentioned to the others to improvise along with him in the key of G. While he played the main sections, Burge's harmonica blasts, Jesse Remnant's piano embellishments and Adam Remnant's rhythm guitar transformed Matheny's tune into a song. With so little to go on, their chemistry molded a polished piece that commanded respect.

The show concluded with Matheny's "West Virginia Waltz," a catchy old-time shuffle with a backstory. He explained that he had heard a band play a song with that name years ago, and couldn't find any recording of it or anyone else who could play it for him, so he reconstructed the melody as best he could. It bothered him, he said, that a song could just cease to exist like that, that it could be played for so many people and no one would remember it.

And that's exactly why these shows are worth going to. When such gifted musicians grace Athens, how else will anyone know ten years from now what they sounded like? For their part, these four songwriters epitomized the purpose of a venue like Donkey, to showcase what we have going for us musically and reveal exactly what our regional identity is. When we have folks like Matheny that determined to keep tradition alive, you can bet our scene has something going for

The Ridges and Deadwood Floats / January 13, 2012 / Donkey Coffee

By: Colin Roose, Staff Writer

"Melodic folk-rock." That description could sound either intriguing or repulsive to you, but needless to say it carries some connotations. Three-chord acoustic strumming. Lyrics out of the Paul Simon handbook of singer-songwriter confessions. A rhythm section serving primarily to prop up the ego of the frontman.

Yet that was how Victor Rasgaitis, lead singer and guitarist for The Ridges defined his band's sound to an inquiring fan in line in front of me for their show with Deadwood Floats at Donkey Coffee. Despite the acclaim I had heard about the group, I must admit that my expectations were lowered upon hearing this description. I figured they would probably play okay-ish background music for chatting with friends over a latte, but not much more.

Well, if ever there were a case for the misleading homogeneity of genre labels, this was it. The Ridges' set was as far from coffee shop music banality as possible, showing the energy of stadium rock in the humble back room of the Donkey.

After about an hour past the scheduled start time of 8:00 due to sound difficulties, the Columbus-native Deadwood Floats were ready to play, mandolin and xylophone in tow.

The band stood out from the typical folk idiom with their uncommonly versatile musicians. Their drummer and accordion players switched roles occasionally, while singer Drew Williams alternated between ukulele and piano. Banjo and violin were also heard as the band showed off their charmingly eccentric original compositions. However, the highlight of their set was a cover of a song by Massachusetts band The Woodrow Wilsons, whose majestic guitar riff really made me wonder why its writers were so obscure.

By the time Deadwood had finished their set, the number of people in the room had reached fire hazard-like proportions, and the only standing room was in the back. It was so crowded, in fact, that Victor Rasgaitis came up to me and asked if he could remove my table in order to make more room for the audience before his band came on. That was the final indication that they were going to play more than tea-and-Scrabble fare.

The Ridges made an extravagant entrance into the show, standing among the crowd to perform their first song. It spoke volumes about the band to see that they did not need to be on stage behind amplifiers to make an impact, as Rasgaitis sang and played guitar while standing on top of a chair and percussionist Johnny Barton danced around with what appeared to be claves. The impact of a cello really hits hard when the strings are vibrating one foot in front of you.

When they finally did go up on stage, the fans all came near to the platform in some kind of folk mosh pit. Despite the pressure of the fans so close and the difficulty of fitting the six members in the small performing space, the group seemed undaunted and started directly into their next song. This was not a band to give meaningless introductions.

What followed was a whirlwind of pizzicato strings, whale-call imitations, and psychedelic-era backing vocals. With few breaks to even allow the crowd to clap, the band played through several numbers in succession, sounding almost like they were performing one grand 45-minute epic. Throughout the entire set, Rasgaitis moved around the stage, shouting and dancing like it was the last time he would ever perform, while cellist Talor Smith remained seated, bowing out the melodic lines with finesse.

However, The Ridges made it clear that they were a band to be listened to, not simply watched. The complexity of their music recalled the niceties of an orchestra rather than the folky indie band that they appeared to be. Barton more often provided subtle atmosphere with tambourine and cymbals than standard 4/4 timekeeping. The band included a trumpet, whose sound provided a wonderful brassy contrast with the guitar, violin and two cellos. The group took full use of the sonic capacities of their instruments, from gentle string interludes to bashing drums and fast strumming.

The best part of all, however, was their knack for bringing their compositions to life. Despite the overwhelming amount of energy and passion onstage, the members never tried to play over each other. Sometimes a solo cello or vocal part would appear, before eventually building up to a full band wall of sound. Everyone contributed for the sake of the song and the song alone.

The only real stage banter came when Rasgaitis announced before the last song that there would be a cheesy sing-along part at the end. The band's performance had stylistically veered toward a classical performance up to that point, albeit a very engaging one, but it began to feel like an arena show once the audience began to chant along. That small concession to the conventions of a normal rock concert was the perfect way for them to thank their audience and balance out their symphonic approach.

It was rather amusing to watch the reactions of the audience in front of me close to the stage. Some regarded the changing tempos and multi-sectioned songs with a blank stare, while others swayed back and forth, and still others tried to dance like it was club music. This kind of confusion indicates that The Ridges play what popular music is in dire need of right now - indescribable blends of sound whose creators follow their own musical instincts rather than being copycats to their favorite bands.

I don't blame Victor Rasgaitis for not quite knowing how to classify his band. After an hour of listening to their music, the best way I could boil down what I had heard was some kind of orchestral-folk-pop-jazz-rock. And if that's the sound of a band synthesizing diverse influences in such a natural way as The Ridges, more of that, please.