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.

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.

The Ridges / October 28, 2011 / The Ridges

By: Kevin Rutherford, Editorial Director
Photos By: Chris Dobstaff, News Editor

OK, let me get this out of the way, first...

YO DAWG, WE HEARD YOU LIKE THE RIDGES SO WE PUT THE RIDGES INSIDE YOUR RIDGES SO YOU CAN RIDGES WHILE YOU RIDGES.

Ahem.

For the second year in a row, rising Ohio stars The Ridges played an intimate show at The Ridges, the former insane asylum which ominously overlooks Ohio University, on the Friday of Halloween weekend.

Attendees were encouraged to don Halloween costume with the promise of a costume contest after the band's set. Picture quite a few delightful outfits, including a human trophy complete with his own platform on which to stand.

But the real stars of the show were The Ridges (the band), as is customary with pretty much any show the current and former OU students play. Since their inception, the band has taken the Athens music scene by storm, and thensome: most recently with fellow Ohio indie rock breaking artists Indigo Wild.

The Ridges took their name from the former asylum, and recorded their debut eponymous EP in its hallowed halls as well. The album was spooky, old-timey and--best of all--inherently Athens-esque, three adjectives that describe the asylum, too.

So, a return to the place where one might be able to say it all began (or, a place that the band seems to owe much to, as they may have not been the same band without it) is always enticing. It's like if a band wrote an entire album about Athens (and Appalachia, as an extension) and then returned to the city to perform said record. See: Southeast Engine.

"We're The Ridges. We're at The Ridges.... beer is involved," announced Ridges frontman Victor Rasgaitis at the beginning of their set. He announced that from within a room of the asylum that juts out from the others, a larger room that probably didn't actually house any patients, but certainly saw quite a few in its time. Rasgaitis, who has a boyish exuberance when it comes to his band, and who is almost chronically smiling, was flanked by the rest of the official members of the band--cellist Talor Smith and percussionist Johnny Barton.

The band has auxiliary members who join them for every show, and included in this night's tally was another cellist, two violinists and an accordionist. Oh, and add in group vocals from just about every member of the band, as well as multiple members of the audience.

A Ridges show is certainly an inclusive affair. Even if it is one's first time seeing them live, as it was for a few in my group, one feels included and encouraged to sing along, no matter what. Whether the band is playing their own material or covers from folk artists such as Damien Rice and Sufjan Stevens, shows with The Ridges are both entertaining and enrapturing no matter one's familiarity with the music. That is something I think bands, especially on a more local level, should strive for, but having been in Athens for nearly four years now and thus having seen countless small-time acts, I feel confident saying that not many bands can do this like The Ridges.

What certainly helps is the band's likability. The music is not abrasive, and the personalities of the performers are warm, eager and welcoming. Plus, I've never met a person who told me that they dislike The Ridges. You don't get that often. Their appeal is infectious.

The Ridges rolled through 11 songs before the set's close. In addition to playing all songs off their debut EP (save for the brilliant "The Insomniac's Song," my personal favorite), staples such as "Jackson Pollock" and "Dawn of Night" also worked their way into inclusion, the latter an especially magnificent tune which will hopefully be included on a future release.

With an eagerness to play comes infectious energy. Rasgaitis was all over the place, sometimes even atop the chair on which Smith usually sat, singing to and directing the crowd in expansive sing-alongs. Barton is also entertaining to watch, even garnering a few raucous cheers from his xylophone solo. It may have been the first xylophone solo I've ever heard, I should add. Other members of the band are extremely calculating with the utmost precision, hitting each note with ease. Many of the members of the band are actually classically trained, and it shows.

Nervous laughs were heard halfway through the set, at which point Rasgaitis announced to the crowd that "our cars are being towed!" The accordion player promptly exited the room. Following his return, Rasgaitis announced again, "our cars will not be towed!" to much rejoicing.

After a fantastic cover of Damien Rice's "Volcano," the band ended their set with a cover of Sufjan Stevens' "Chicago." The cover had particular meaning, because of the band's recent trip to the city. Last weekend, The Ridges traveled to Chicago to record their first Daytrotter session. Say what you might about Daytrotter these days, especially given their recent announcement of charging folks for downloads of particular songs. Nonetheless, Daytrotter is important, a milestone achievement for a little band out of southern Ohio.

A lot of covers exist out there, but I can honestly say that The Ridges' "Chicago" cover is one of my favorites. Having seen their general excitement performing the song a few weeks ago prior to Daytrotter, and now seeing it live, it's clear that the band believes that this may be their biggest shot yet at breaking out of Ohio and into the public consciousness.

I don't like to say this often, and I may sacrifice my journalistic integrity doing so, but fuck it--I think they will. In fact, when it comes to local music, I may not have had as great a feeling as I do about The Ridges, with the aforementioned Indigo Wild coming a close second. This band of musicians---and note I said musicians, because they truly are, not just your average guys that can kiiiinda play guitar and bass and such--seem to have bigger and better press each month, thus far culminating with Daytrotter.

To say that is not saying that good things will come to the band, but that's what music journalism is sometimes all about. You make assumptions and declarations on bands you think will go big. Sometimes it succeeds, sometimes not. Check out Rolling Stone and SPIN's past lists on the matter. Wiz Khalifa got huge, as was expected. Ferraby Lionheart? Not so much.

But we still make these declarations regardless. Sometimes because we just think we'll be right, and sometimes because we WANT to be right. In the case of The Ridges, it's both. Not only do I want this band to break it big, I really do think they will.

Only time will tell. Until then, if you haven't already, check them out. If you live in Ohio, see them when they come your way. When their Daytrotter session finally goes live in a month or two, download it. You won't regret it.