Indigo Wild, She Bears & Orson Frontier / March 29, 2014 / Casa Cantina

By: Megan Fair, Copy Editor

There’s nothing quite as rewarding as the aching feeling in your feet and back as you stumble out of bed for an early morning shift, knowing all those aches were the result of heart-bursting, joy-inducing fits of dancing inspired by incredible musicians and the art they create.

And I was most certainly sore this morning after dancing along to Orson Frontier, She Bears and Indigo Wild at an ACRN-hosted Casa show. Although my wallet took a $7 beating for the event, every penny was worth the fruitful experience. 

Orson Frontier’s dramatic folk rock was the perfect start to the night. I swayed in a booth, as I had just gotten off a four hour shift and needed to rest my puppies. The band was animated and full of life, its vocalist thrashing around to the most sonic pieces of each song. The set was the best way to pique interest for the following two acts.

She Bears has a history with ACRN, and it’s good history, a history I hope lasts for many more years. I marveled at the guitar tone and was awed by how seasoned the team of musicians operated, having the perfect amount of fun and executing each song with near flawless delivery. Each moment of music was filled with subtle intricacies, and I was incredibly excited to see live use of a glockenspiel, because glockenspiels are tight and sound so sweet.

Now that the crowd was completely warmed up and midnight rolled around, the sonic adventure that is Indigo Wild took its position on the stage. Rewind now to the early afternoon in Galbreath Chapel, where the group is performing a stripped down version of “The Fog,” a new track, for a filmed takeaway show. The stripped down takeaway version sounded immense and awe-inspiring, so imagine how excited attendees of that shoot were to hear the song live and completely full. 

And man, it was amazing. The crowd was all grooving with each other and singing the words while they stomped and clapped and let their limbs go wild to the amazing, indescribable music. The vocal harmonies alone were enough to melt any soul into peaceful oblivion. After an amazing set, the crowd begged and demanded for more, and the band happily obliged, ending with “On the Hill” and a supercharged, very loud cover of The White Stripes’ “We’re Going To Be Friends.”

To be swinging my hips and stomping my feet and shouting, “WOLF! ON THE HILL!” with a crowd of enthusiastic friends and fellows was so entertaining. Many stuck around to inform all three bands of their great work, including myself. I didn’t even care that I had to be up by 7 a.m., I didn’t care that my limbs were exhausted--it was too great to not enjoy the company of kind and talented musicians who love what they do more than anything else in the world. 

Scubadog / November 21, 2013 / Casa Cantina

By: Abbie Doyle, Copy Editor

Rock ‘n’ roll is alive and well in Athens! Last night at Casa Cantina, I had the extreme pleasure of watching Scubadog perform its first show in nearly a year. Scubadog’s guitarist happens to be Ohio University’s beloved professor Josh Antonuccio. I’ve never had Antonuccio for class, but he is my advisor, so to see him become a rock star onstage was simultaneously epic and hilarious.

Casa was overflowing with people, a majority of the spectators being media students. There were a few professors spotted in the crowd, wearing nondescript clothing and hats pulled down over their eyes. Nice try, but we see you and we are going to slyly send a Snapchat of you to all our friends.

The crowd for the first band, Maza Blaska (who was very good, check them out), was sizable and grew during the show, but when Scubadog took the stage, the crowd had more than doubled in size and rowdiness. A lot of people were especially jazzed to see Antonuccio onstage--there were shouts of love and praise from the audience for the professor, and he played it very cool and acted like he didn’t hear any of them.

As soon as Scubadog played its first explosive notes, people were going crazy for them. They laid out such fun, fast beats that you couldn’t help but move along with them. The gig started with a few people dancing, and ended with almost everyone in the audience getting their groove on.

Antonuccio is a damn good guitarist, and if you don’t believe me, you need to get your ass out to a Scubadog show. He shredded and wailed away on his guitar so passionately he broke a string. Lead vocalist/guitarist Jake Householder was the frontman of the group, so naturally it was up to him to suck up the audience’s attention while Antonuccio hurriedly replaced the string. Householder talked to the audience about giving thanks (he was clearly pulling it out of his ass, as he doubled over in laughter several times during his rambling), and ended up throwing beef jerky into the crowd. He was so engaging with the audience it felt like he was an old friend. His stage presence was excellent, and he kept everyone excited while Antonuccio rushed to get his shit together.

In tribute to the late Lou Reed, Scubadog played four Velvet Underground songs. The first they played was “Sunday Morning,” which is about ten times slower in tempo than all of Scubadog’s songs. It was a great change of pace and mellowed out the crowd, which was a little necessary at this point in the show. BAC levels were high and there were some assholes moving about, which detracted a little from my opinion of the evening, but that’s not Scubadog’s fault.

Scubadog doesn’t play too often, which is quite a bummer because they’re so damn good. Next time you hear about a Scubadog show near you, you better get the hell to that show because it’s definitely worth seeing. You’ll dance, you’ll laugh and you’ll have a rocking good time.

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.

She Bears, Indigo Wild & Deadwood Floats / November 2, 2012 / Casa Cantina

By: Nadia Kurtz, Staff Writer

When I heard Indigo Wild would be performing at Casa Cantina, my Friday night plans were set. Also performing would be Deadwood Floats and She Bears. A nice night of folk/indie rock was just what I needed.

After I had committed to going to the show, Indigo Wild cancelled due to an illness. Needless to say, I was devastated. I went to the show anyway, and even though some adjustments had to be made, the night was an overall success.

When Deadwood Floats took the stage, the crowd at Casa was pretty dull. Everyone there was just sitting and chatting, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a band was about to perform. When the five-piece band struck their first note, however, heads turned and all attention was on them.

With two guitars, a drum set, ukelele and accordion, Deadwood Floats had the charming sound of a happy little indie/folk band. By the third song, people were dancing up front and others were swaying in a tight group in the center.

Probably the best songs from the band were the ones that were heavily ukelele-based. They were just pleasant and the singers all had clear voices with the slightest bit of twang.

On the fifth song, the percussionist threw in a little surprise by introducing his glockenspiel. Even though the singers were fantastic, what really stood about about this band was its occasional sections of pure instrumentals.

By the end of the band's set, more people were filing into the bar ordering drinks and the level of rowdy was increased by a tad bit.

Following Deadwood Floats was Indigo Wild’s replacement, a Columbus band called Cliffs.

The duo, which consisted of a guitar player and a drummer, was pure punk rock, and honestly, I was disappointed. The attention of the audience began to die down as well, although I’m not sure if this was due to the music or the fact that people were getting drunker and more impatient.

Cliffs’ tunes tended to be overly lengthy and their lyrics were of the typical punky sort, challenging religion. One song was even “about existentialism and shit.”

The set dragged on, and I began to feel more and more like going home. Luckily their set wasn’t too long, and the anticipated She Bears were about to perform.

Unfortunately, right before the final set the crowd began to disperse and people were leaving the bar.

Although She Bears went on pretty late, the four-piece band still kept the attention of what was left of the crowd.

The band announced that this was the kick-off to its tour to promote their recently produced three-track EP.

She Bears performed a set of catchy, upbeat tunes that weren’t really dance-worthy, but it was still a pleasant end to the evening.

Many of the band's songs were very indie-sounding with some hints of pop. The percussion really stood out throughout their set, and the band never really slowed things down.

The only issue with She Bears’ set was the sound, as the instrumentals frequently drowned out the singer’s vocals. Besides that, the band finished on the right note, leaving the audience to stumble home with a satisfied feeling.

Old Lights / October 18, 2012 / Casa Cantina

By: Hannah Cook, Editorial Director

It’s a damn shame when a band travels great lengths to play a show in Athens and finds itself greeted by a half-enthused, shrimpy Casa crowd. It’s even more of a shame when the band is actually good.

Old Lights, from St. Louis, were more deserving, but they didn’t shove it in Athens’ face or anything. Instead, they powered through the awkwardness that desolate bars inevitably create for an energetic show full of dual harmonies and catchy hooks. Had there been more people, it would have been a wild time, but since there were only, like, eight of us, it was a little anticlimactic.

My friends and I did our best to pick up the slack of the invisible audience, but there’s only so much three stupid, drunk 20-somethings can do. At one point, we harmonized with the bassist when he did a solo song. He didn’t know it was happening, but I really felt like we had some great musical chemistry going on.

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.

Brothertiger, DJ Self Help and bustedBASS / May 24, 2012 / Casa Cantina

By: Kyle Rutherford, Staff Writer


The streets of Athens were quiet Thursday night, with many students having either made their way home for Memorial Day festivities or to Hilton Head. Inside Casa was a night of diverse music that left attendees unable to control their dancing feet. At the helm was DJ duo bustedBASS performing their last Athens show for awhile, with support from DJ Self Help and Brothertiger.

"Thank you for coming out. Hope you like the jams, man," said John Jagos, the man behind Brothertiger, right before he ripped into his synth-laden chillwave set. This was the first show in Athens after his European tour with Teen Daze and upon rolling into his song "A House of Many Ghosts," the wait was well worth it.

Jagos' breathy voice and bubbly synths echoed beautifully through the warm atmosphere of the venue, while those in attendance swayed and danced along. More classic songs like "Lovers" were played, but "I've Been Waiting," off Brothertiger's most recent release, was given this particular warm feeling. And the closing of the set with "Feel" prompted many attendees to ask for more music.

DJ Self Help's set was next. A turntable user over more modern controllers, Self Help's set built as he went on, starting from more lo-fi indie electronic and evolving into more heavy bass songs that lacked the overwhelming synth sound of modern house music. With emphasis on jungle bass, moombathon, and hip-hop, Self Help spun "California Love" by 2Pac and "Wild Wild West" by Will Smith, all in the same set as Diplo and Dillon Francis. Self Help plays a blend of what starts at first as softer stuff, but evolves into more heavy bass material.

The set played by bustedBASS was what it usually is: a mixture of electronic songs, as well as pop music and classics. As the crowd grew, heavy bass music was played and hula hoopers did their own little routines. Some of the music played was "Contact" by Usher, as well as Beastie Boys, Major Lazer and a bustedBASS remix of "Lonely Boy" by The Black Keys. 

With it being their last show in Athens for a while, DJs Arthur Henke and Joe William gave it their all in creating an insane festival. Even with date complications and a lesser crowd, bustedBASS was able to deliver exactly they intended on doing and obviously had fun while doing it.

Thomas Comerford, Dave Buker and the Historians, Emily and the Complexes / November 11, 2011 / Casa

By: Kyle Rutherford, Contributor

Though the night air was chilly, that didn’t stop many people from hitting up Casa Nueva for a folk night that consisted of Thomas Comerford, Dave Buker and the Historians, & Emily and the Complexes.

The crowd was noticeably small, though, making it hard to distinguish between concert-goers and bar attendees.

The first act, Columbus’ Emily and the Complexes, the solo project of Tyler Verhagen, warmed up the crowd with his plugged-in folk-punk style. Standing alone, he won over many with his soft, yet occasionally throaty voice. Playing many of his originals, like “Emily, You’re Right” and “If I Had Money," as well as covering Alkaline Trio’s “Fuck You, Aurora." Tyler was able to let the emotion in his voice and lyrics radiate through the crowd.

The next act, Columbus’s Dave Buker and the Historians, were one of the more interesting acts of the night. Their electro-folk sound could’ve gone easily unnoticed, possibly because a lack of their full band. The vocals of Buker and Paul Valdiviez went well together, but when it came to a bar setting, it lacked relevance.

The last act, Chicago’s Thomas Comerford, ended the night with his blend of folk instrumentals, a southern-inspired voice without the twang, and echoing vocals. His ability to keep the mood somber but still feeling good was riveting.

Unfortunately, by the time he started to play, much of the previous crowd had left. With softer songs, as well as epic rock songs, Comerford blended in well with the bar style and with those attending.

Scubadog, Jessica Hernandez and the Deltas & Zapaño / November 11 / Casa Cantina

We love Scubadog—for obvious reasons. They’re wonderful musicians, charming, handsome, funny. If only Scubadog as a collective could be our boyfriend. Until that can be arranged, though, I’ll settle for a free show.

Casa Cantina greeted us with warmness and Jessica Hernandez and the Deltas. We missed most of their set, and regrettably so. But I spent more of my Goodfella’s tips (ALWAYS tip at Goodfella’s, you guys) on their album anyway. The last two songs were wonderful and worth being jealous over, at least from a girl’s perspective. Hernandez has a voice cultivated by the heavens above. It was a perfect blend of pitches and harshness, accompanied by some jazzy, rambunctious piano playing. The band backing her brought it all together. Certainly if they haven’t already reached some sort of fame, they’re on their way to it.

Scubadog took the stage next, and I was shaking in my boots with excitement. And once again, they came bearing treats—but this time vegetarian friendly.

The talk of their releasing two new songs at the show was finally put to life. Inside homemade fortune cookies were fortunes holding the most majestic and secretive information known to man—the code to download the songs. They were selling those for two or three bucks, but decided to throw a few into the crowd for fun and kindness’s sake. Once again, my unlucky hands didn’t get one, but never catching anything free is something I’m used to.

Their set consisted of songs old and new, all of which were perfectly executed. Their guitarist’s hands moved all over the fret board, and it was almost mesmerizing. The riffs he was playing were innovative and complicated. He was a mad man.

Zapaño was next, and I had never seen them before. The moment they started, though, I was really intrigued. The singer Sean was super sensual, moving his hips all ova da place. His legs twisted and bounced and split.

The music was something comparable to Mars Volta with a lot of peculiar but marvelous instrumentation and wild singing. I left early, but the next time they play, I’m for sure there.

The crowd was a sea of dance, and never had we moved so much and so hard. Yet another successful Scubadog undertaking.

--Hannah Cook, News & Live Reviews Editor

Monolithic Cloud Parade, Scubadog and She Bears / Casa Cantina / September 30

There are nearly too many events that were squeezed into Thursday night: So many that I can hardly wrap my mind around them clearly or cohesively. I’ll do my best, though, to collect from my weary memory what I can.

At about 10:30 we entered Casa, only to greet a nearly finished Monolithic Cloud Parade. To that I said “crap.” They were really great for that last song-and-a-half I heard. They seemed like a motley crew, but their sound was perfectly unified. It’s such a shame that I didn’t see them long enough to come up with very many ways to describe them. But if you were there, you know.

Dear Lord, Scubadog was absolutely a blast. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed them more because of the incredibly ridiculous inclusion of the audience, the performance itself, the humor and the absurdity of it all. The band said so many silly things. I laughed so hard so much.

In celebration of Rocktober, Scubadog had treats for the crowd. Every once in a while during their set, they would break into that song that marching bands play before every victorious event in a football game. When it came for the crowd to join in, we yelled, “Hey! Free Meat!” and up over heads and arms flew mini beef jerky pieces. The lucky ones who caught one celebrated as if they had caught the fly ball at a baseball game. Unfortunately, he didn’t throw any to the side of the stage where I had taken my place.

The whole situation was enjoyed so thoroughly by the band and everyone else. When they ran out of meat, the lead singer was super apologetic, as if he ran out of grants to heaven. “Hey, I’m really sorry about the meat situation guys.” It was such a humorously sincere apology.

Their set was outrageous. They played their instruments so robustly, with fingers bouncing all over the fret board for mad solos of sorts. My hands turned blue just from watching them. They even rocked out so hard that the lead singer’s shoes came off. With that, he said something along the lines of, “you know you’re rocking out when your shoe comes off.” They also played some new songs that were intricate and exciting to listen to. I hope their album comes along quickly.

There was so much more banter from everyone. It’s just too hard to put it all together into one page of recollection. But all in all, it was a hilarious thing to watch. I was perpetually smiling or dancing, or both. Usually both.

We intended to leave before She Bears came on, only because it was getting to be our bedtime. But, it so happened plans worked out otherwise and I was able to see a good amount of She Bears’ set.

Not that they were ever terrible at all before, but they sounded a lot better this night. I think it was because I could clearly hear Steven’s singing, which can sometimes be an issue. Their songs, even the old ones, sounded different in some ways, as if they had added more intricacy. The people watching were really into it, dancing together, spinning around, and nodding heads.

Everyone in all of Casa was satisfied.

Before leaving, I was standing outside waiting around to leave. A person who I suppose we would classify as a “townie” came up to me and started showing me his tattoos that HE apparently did himself. That was mind-boggling to me. He even had a tattoo on the palm of his right hand, and he’s left-handed. He was a hardass to say the least. He told me he had about $1,000 worth of music equipment in Casa and that if any body touched it, he’d kill them. Then he told me: “Anyone who messes with you, I’ll kill em’.”

I said, “Well, gee. Thanks.”

As he was walking away to leave, he said, “That’s just how I am.”

--Hannah Cook, Live Reviews Editor

Southeast Engine, Josiah Wolf and Ortolan / Casa Cantina / September 17

Following one Cobra and a seven dollar fee, Carolyn and I found ourselves inside the Casa Cantina. A little too late. I’d say we missed the majority of the first band, who was Ortolan, a band of four girls who were really great from what I saw. They played some folksy indie-rock for us, making my mouth incapable of forming a frown. The singer’s voice was a lovely one comparable to -- maybe -- Laura Stevenson a little bit, especially with darling harmonies flowered from the other girls. Of course, it made me want to be in a band. In fact, that thought took control of my mind for most of the night. Sweet envy.

Next was Josiah Wolf, the drummer of WHY? who are from Cincinnati (Halright home.) He was accompanied by a woman who an awesome outfit and a graceful voice. And Josiah-- My goodness! He has arms and legs trained like a circus lion. He was playing guitar and drumming simultaneously. Yeah. Imagine the confusion your right brain and left brain would go through during that. It’s like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time, but much much harder, I would imagine. And not once did he appear to have a single flaw, at least not to my untaught eye.

Those two formed the sound of a band of at least four people. His voice, a little nerdy and talky, which I didn’t think was a word but my computer didn’t underline it, so we’ll go with it, was delightful with the lyrics he was singing. Some odd words that don’t make much sense but that fill your brain nonetheless. I loved every minute of it.

One slice of Goodfella's and a midnight dinner in a dark corner off of Court Street later, and we were back in Casa to see Southeast Engine. It had been a whole summer since we had seen them last, so my feet were hot with the readiness to listen and boogie. And so I did, to the best of my ability.

After having us applaud for the opening bands and the movie Space Jam, the band went into a pretty long set of new and old ones. Not once did my feet stop twisting or my knees stop bouncing. Or those of anyone else, for that matter.

Southeast Engine is wonderful to everyone, but I’m convinced no one loves them more than a certain man in a fisherman hat. To anyone who wasn’t moving, he insisted otherwise. He waved his hands in the air with a “come on” so that we would clap louder. He trudged through the crowd all over the place to personally ensure that people were reacting to the music in the way it deserved. He loves Southeast Engine. And fishing, probably.

--Hannah Cook, Live Reviews Editor

A touch of home (plus some supa' fans) at Casa

Finally. A night where the miserable cold isn’t hindering my ability to walk safely and comfortably around town. Instead, it’s pleasant and agreeing with most everyone’s outfits of shorts or skirts or bare arms. For now, I’ll not bitterly question Ohio for it’s consistent fluctuation in weather. I’ll forget about the fact that it was snowing on my Spring Break because tonight I’m not wearing my Sam’s Club winter coat (thanks, Dad) and it’s okay.

My friend and I arrived to Casa a little after 10:00 in hopes that things would have sort of gotten started. But one thing I’ve learned is that shows in Athens never really start when they say they will on Facebook. So we walk through, pay our 7 dollars and get a smiley face drawn on our hands. Yeah I get it. I’m not 21. Drawing a smiley face doesn’t make me feel any better about that. Big, bold permanent marker is big, bold permanent marker no matter the shape it’s drawn in.

Anyway, we sort of awkwardly waited around for Manor Animals to begin. I’ve seen them a fair amount of times and if my ears heard correctly, they played for us some new tunes that’ll be coming out on their new EP here soon. They also tapped around on this odd little white contraption that made neat sparkling noises. I wonder what it was...?

Pomegranates, a band from Cincinnati, came on after. Naturally, I was pretty giddy about seeing them not only because they’re super good at playing this pretty unique music, but also because it felt like a little piece of home (that I missed a lot quite honestly) was coming to remind me that it was still there. Of course, that wasn’t what Pomegranates came to do. I mean, they don’t even know me. Regardless, they played, and it was wondrous. Jumpy and dreamlike noises were being showered on the crowd and it felt even more surreal with smoke drifting around their bodies and through gleaming green lights.

The reaction of listeners was also sort of surreal. I couldn’t decide who to watch and wonder about more - the four girls in the front who were obviously all about some Pomegranates as they were flailing and singing and taking pictures of themselves with the band in the background... OR the plaid-shirted man to the right of the stage who was dancing like an old fool and making all sorts of dancing faces. He was funny. Since the Pomegranates' supa’ fans were standing right in front of me, they took up most of my distraction from the band. Thanks a lot. No, I’m kidding. Pomegranates are really good, I know. They deserve some serious attention, no matter the way it’s presented I suppose.

I reluctantly left with my friend after they played and ended up missing Southeast Engine. But I can imagine they were Athens’ favorite and played as well as they ever do. I can imagine people danced like old fools.

-Hannah Cook, Staff Writer

Sparse crowd at Casa misses a true-blue bar band

The Cowboy Angels rolled through Athens last night for a free show at Casa Cantina. Let me say that again: free show. Sadly, for a free show, there ended up being less people there than shows I've been to in town with a $5 charge.

Of course, one must take into consideration the day of the week. It was a Thursday. Some of the college crowd (myself not included) still had class the next day, and Thursdays in general are not known for having a huge amount of patrons in the bars, but regardless, Casa seemed rather empty.

That said, it was not a bad evening in the slightest. After paying the $2 underage charge to get in (which I was totally expecting, since "free show" in Athens only ever seems to mean "free show for those 21 and up"), I took a spot next to the bookcase and waited patiently for the show to start. Speaking of that bookcase, they've got a nice selection there! I mean, shoot, if I could have actually seen the words through the dark, I might've finally started reading The Da Vinci Code!

Kicking off the evening at around 10:30 was a band known as the 65's, who I hadn't heard of and still don't know much about. Definitely some former members of the Sad Bastards in it, though. A very good band through-and-through, if anyone ever gets the chance to see them. Country-tinged, but what seemed to be a folk-indie influence as well. They're all very talented and seem to be veteran musicians.

My mind began to wander toward the end of the band's set and while the Cowboy Angels set up. This is what happens when I'm ungodly tired. I began to update my Twitter for no reason whatsoever, even going as far as quoting Kindergarten Cop. I cursed my underage-ness since I'm thirsty and I'm in a bar. I began to wonder if eating all those burritos beforehand was a good idea (spoiler: it wasn't). I began to debate whether or not the Punk Goes (insert genre here) compilations deserve to exist. And finally, I decided to open a hipster loft in Portland and form a bluegrass band featuring a drum set worthy of Neil Peart, just to be really ironic. All true facts.

The Cowboy Angels finally took the stage and my mind snapped back into focus. I had interviewed the guitarist earlier in the week, and he told me that the band was country rock, the Stones with some Drive-By Truckers in there. And you know what? He was pretty much spot on.

The Angels are pretty much the quintessential bar band... not that they can't and won't expand beyond that. The songs are generally mid-tempo, there're no crazed guitar solos going on, and singer Dan England is actually a good vocalist. I had thought of a comparison to him at the show, but sleep has caused me to forget it. Let's put it this way, though: he could certainly front more than just a country-rock band.

I must express my disappointment at the lack of people at the show, once again. This is mostly out of respect to the band... I know people are going to have other things to do, especially on Thursdays, but I feel bad for them in that they're a touring act just trying to get their music out there and make a little bit of cash. One show like this isn't going to be a problem necessarily, but if a whole tour gets like this... well, I can't help but think that funds might be a little sparse by the end. Then again, you know what they say: Rome was not built in a day. Every band goes through shows like this. When my bluegrass band finally hits the road, we'll no doubt encounter the same problems.

When the set was complete, I made my way to the back of the place to pick up a copy of the band's CD, The Burden of Love and Sin. There I met both the vocalist Dan, and Gavin, the band's tour manager. Really nice guys. I really do hope nothing but the best for them. I expressed my hope that there would be a few more people out the next time they came around Athens, if by chance they do head out here again. Maybe on a Friday or Saturday night in much warmer weather.

-Kevin Rutherford, Senior Critic

Sibs Weekend + Woody Pines = awesome

Before embarking on their upcoming European tour in roughly a month, Woody Pines and the Lonesome Two stopped by Casa Cantina Friday night for a rollicking set. I was excited for this show, having circled it on my calendar for a couple of reasons. I had missed the trio when they last rolled through Athens, having discovered them just a few months ago. To boot, my younger brother, Kyle, was coming to Athens for Sibs Weekend. He hadn't visited Athens since I myself was his age (he's 16, I'm 19) and had certainly never been to a show in Athens. I was determined to show him a good time, even if the style of music was not exactly his thing.

Off we went, arriving at Casa at roughly 10 in the evening. It was at this point that I assigned Kyle to camera duty, for two reasons: firstly, I wanted to give him something to do; and secondly, I didn't want to do it. He seemed completely fine with it, so it really was a win-win for me. I have the intrinsic ability of messing up any picture I take. I could be taking a picture of the Capitol building in D.C. from across the mall and totally miss it. No joke. This actually happened to me once.

Woody Pines went on at a quarter til 11. And that's when shit got crazy.

So much dancing. So much flailing. The audience was moving. It was like a drunken barn dance minus the line dances, which I was totally expecting to break out the entire time. This would probably have been less surprising had I experienced an act along the lines of Woody Pines before that night, but this was my first time too. Kyle and I looked over at each other, stupid grins etched upon our faces. We do not come from a family of dancers. We were so out of place, it was hilarious.
The night wore on. A nearby man grinded up against me as he danced. Subconsciously, I'm hoping. Next to me, a girl dropped her beer, which was thankfully in a plastic cup. The crowd did not care. They danced through the expanding puddle on the floor. A staff member of Casa arrived shortly after to clean the mess. Placing a rag under his foot, he cleaned the puddle to the beat of the song, almost dancing along. Did I get a kick out of that? You bet.

My brother's comments cannot go unmentioned. He mentioned early on that the show reminded him of being at a Pentecostal church. I suppose that's not a horrible comparison. Throughout the show, he was consistently remarking at how downright interesting this show was. That in itself made the night worth it. I'm a self-conscious person; I worry about whether or not my guests are having a good time. When they are, I am.

Another beer dropped -- this time, it was in a glass bottle. Did the crowd care? Of course not; they danced right through it. I mean, what's a little glass in one's foot, right?

Woody and his bandmates were simply great as well. These guys put on a frolicsome show, if you could not infer that from the crowd reaction. It's a down-and-dirty bluegrass hoedown, from quick numbers about farmers to slower, swing-influenced songs that really set the couples in motion. Woody adds harmonica and kazoo to the mix at times along with his guitar, with double bass and percussion backing him. A saxophonist/clarinetist was also present on this night and was a supremely welcome addition.A string broke on Woody's instrument toward the end of the set. What does that mean, aside from changing the string? Whiskey, apparently! As Pines down his glass of whiskey, I stood there and wondered if this was actually was some sort of unwritten tradition. Sounds good to me, though. When I get big, hit platinum and all that jazz, I'll be breaking five to six strings a night at minimum. You know why.

The band's set ended a little past midnight. It was a mere 10 minute break; they were coming back and would be performing well into the evening. We, however, took our leave at this point, having to get up at a decent hour the next day. I would like to thank Woody Pines for a great show (or half of a show), though. You've gotta be doing something right if you can get a metalcore-leaning kid like my brother into a bluegrass band. Stay sweet, fellas. Stay sweet.

-Kevin Rutherford, Senior Writer