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
morning crowd on South Beach was decidedly split between middle aged proud
parents and classmates of To Be Determined, one of the winners from the Athens
High School Battle of the Bands. Their set was mostly made up of covers -- the
standards: Red Hot Chili Peppers
and Sublime -- mixed in with a
few originals. Your typical high school jam band, complete with joking rock
goddery on the part of their lead singer, but it was some good background music
to start the day. Except for that "Call Me Maybe" cover. Not cool,
boys. Not cool.
The former post was retracted because of a miscommunication between the author of the post and the reader. In it, the author led the reader to believe that Max Wheeler was indeed the frontman playing Cop Hugger's Lobsterfest 2012 set.
I was excited to see Cop Hugger take the stage. The band isn't known for playing places outside of bars or houses because of their hardcore sound. It's always interesting to me to see how that sound translates into a different atmosphere.
Max Wheeler, the band's lead singer, was out of town for the set, so Spencer Radcliffe (a friend of the band) took the stage in his place. Radcliffe's most notable accomplishments come from his electronic project Blithe Field. But to the passersby and to those unfamiliar with the music of Cop Hugger, Radcliffe was a fine substitute.
Cop Hugger played with great gusto. The set lasted around 15 minutes, but to those familiar with the band, that is not an uncommon thing. It's an aesthetic of the genre -- straightforward frustration expressed through yells over three power chords lasting only a minute or so in length.
Despite being somewhat out of their element at two in the afternoon in the middle of a residential green, Cop Hugger adapted.
It
can never be too early for Scubadog. The band (though missing their other
guitarist this time 'round) took the ever so slightly raised stage on South
Beach around 1:30 p.m. with the sunshine glimmering behind them. Not many were
there yet to see the beloved Scubadog in an abnormal setting compared to their
frequent bar shows. But the band proved that no matter the audience, they boast
the most delightful of musical integrity (even with a missing bandmate).
Most
things about the band's set were fairly typical in the realm of Scubadog --
comical stage banter, authentic energy and all-around indie rock excellence.
But frontman Jake Householder did change things up more than a bit when he
invited a lone audience member up on stage to sing with him. Her name escapes
me, but her voice does not, as it weaved with Householder's cracked falsetto
perhaps flawlessly. And to think we just thought she was there to enjoy
Lobsterfest.
I
couldn't help but notice the nice family sitting in lawn chairs at the back of
Lobsterfest. A mommy, a daddy and a young girl enjoying the picturesque June
day and the sweet sounds of...Fat History
Month? SIGN-OFF?
Something's not right here.
While
there's a fair deal of screaming about these acts, nothing about them
necessarily screams "family-oriented," at least in the traditional
sense, anyway.
But
they stayed through all the noise, all the lyrical F-bombs and crowd-attributed
F-bombs. They even looked like they were bobbing their heads ever so slightly.
Were they residents of Athens who just attend Lobsterfest every year? I
couldn't figure it out, but I was happy they were there.
We
all caught Fat History Month first. A duo who came over from Boston, the band
seemed to be enjoying themselves more than any other act at the festival. They
embraced the crowd, who in turn responded similarly. The love affair with
Athens continued even after Lobsterfest when the group played a second house
show later in the night.
Next
was SIGN-OFF, another noisy duo that is more familiar to the area. They were
about halfway through their bare-bones, bass and drum set when bassist Morgan
Garrett announced, "My parents are here," and BOOM, it all made
sense.
What
made this even better was that Garrett didn't change his performance one iota
just because his parents were there. He hopped around sort of awkwardly and screamed
so loud his voice cracked. He even let his eyes roll into the back of his head.
Some young performers might feel anxiety with a performance like that. Their
style of music might be seen as taboo by a more traditional set of eyes and
ideas, but that's who Garrett is as a musician and nothing is going to (in fact
nothing can or should) change who he is or how he performs.
Or
maybe he just has rad parents. I would bet the answer is both.
Reading Group, from
Louisville, was one of the bands that Kory Kasler, Matt Bemer and I really
could not wait to see on Snaturday. They describe themselves as "pop-punk,
maybe," and the "maybe" portion of that is quite accurate
because I don't really know how to place them in a genre. Their guitars were
loud, drums spot-on at driving the tempo and Lacey Guthrie's vocals were just
downright gorgeous. They even took a request from Matt to add the song "Holy
Kisser" on to the end of their set. I'm not usually a fan of female
singers, but when it comes to Reading Group, I make quite the exception. In
fact, I bought a t-shirt, pack of buttons and cassette tape (yes a
cassette tape) following their set. Reading Group, you guys (and gal) rule.
Evolve, also know as Colin
Murray, daintily took the stage after Reading Group in a pink dress and a table
full of flashing switches and beat mixing equipment.
Most
of the audience wasn’t sure what to expect. He had yellow-tinted hair piled on
his head and introduced himself as “Nancy." The crowd laughed a little
uncertainly and Evolve began the show.
Personally,
I had just heard he played electronic music and mixed beats. After about two
minutes he began rapping. Not at all what I expected.
His
songs covered everything from total anarchy to intense drug use. I found myself
enjoying all of it. He had an awesome flow to his words that was completely
different from the voice of “Nancy” he had taken on before.
He
complained of minor technical difficulties due to the sun hindering his ability
to see the lights on his mixing boards. However, he managed to put together a
stellar performance for Lobsterfest.
Xray Eyeballs
By: Amanda Norris, Staff Writer
Xray Eyeballs: garage rock suited to
your favorite underground night club, decked out in slick black and white
complete with ultra-hip style and demeanor. Their relentless shoegaze-esque
sound would own The Union and the night, but it wasn't as well-suited to a
midafternoon outdoor festival as we might have liked. That aside, this is a
band to watch and the fact that their guitarist wore the Snat costume the rest
of the day made me proud as hell to have them at Lobsterfest. Come back through
and play The Union Xray. We'd love to see it.
Pujol
By: Amanda Norris, Staff Writer
Though
I am always hesitant of making committed statements about which bands will blow
up and which bands, though possibly deserving of fame and fortune, will
disappear into obscure indie rock history, I'm going to make an exception. I
can't help but feel like a few months from now we'll be telling people,
"Yeah, we booked Pujol for
Lobsterfest..." Why? Because exactly one week from gracing our humble
stage on South Beach, they will be playing Bonnaroo -- not exactly a small
feat. They played to a small crowd of dedicated ACRNites, but they didn't mind.
Cracking jokes and making conversational banter with the intimate bunch, this
down-to-earth trio put on an entertaining closing set. Their tunes were great,
but so was their attitude. They even stuck around afterward to talk to the
crowd and stage crew, genuinely interested in learning about what makes Athens
special. You probably won't get that interaction in Tennessee next weekend.
Come at us Bonnaroo.
Maybe this is stereotypical... but junior year sucks. More specifically, winter quarter of junior year sucks: Too many classes, too much homework, and yeah, it's only week two. The only thing that got me through my 19 hours worth of classes this week was the idea that I would get to go to Casa Cantina on Thursday to see one of my favorite local bands, Scubadog. And that's exactly what I did.
I strolled into the venue and paid the $5 cover just in time to catch the last few songs of Jesse Remnant's solo acoustic set. At this point, the crowd was a little sparse, but the music was good, as is to be expected. Because of my tardiness, Remnant's time on the stage came and went too quickly, though he was soon to return performing bass duties for Scubadog.
Before that, though, Columbus' Old Hundred was set to play. They're frequently around Athens these days because they're recording an album at 3 Elliott Studio, and they sure do fit in. Their brand of alternative folk rock is perfect for Athens and Casa, specifically. The band produced full sounds that perfectly fit this old college town, and the audience definitely felt it.
A highlight of their set was certainly their last song: a cover of Neutral Milk Hotel's "King of Carrot Flowers." I've heard this song done by several other bands at local shows, but never before was the emotion of the lyrics captured so perfectly. The crowd, which had grown since Remnant's set, sang along to every word, creating one of those special bonding moments.
And finally, the moment I'd been waiting for all week had arrived: Scubadog was about to play. After their opening number, lead singer Jake Householder asked those in attendance to get cozy and close to the stage, which the audience did. Householder also preceded most of the songs at the beginning of Scubadog's set with something along the lines of "this is a dancing number."
And dance the audience did. Casa's floor was a mess of boogying bodies. Scubadog's infectious indie-pop was, in fact, the perfect way to let loose after a long school week, and not just for me. People shook their tailfeathers and shuffled their feet like they never had before. It was very much a party.
I'm unfortunately unfamiliar with most of Scubadog's song titles, but a highlight every time I see these guys is their love song, which Householder always precedes with asking the audience to grab and sway with the person/people in the audience they love. Seeing couples hold hands and friends sway during this lovely melody always melts my heart.
And also to continue their tradition of being slightly zany and always incorporating food, Scubadog brought out a birthday cake for David Bowie, who had just turned 65 on January 8. The audience sang "Happy Birthday" to Bowie, and a lady brought out a cake for him. Unfortunately, she dropped the pastry on the floor at the conclusion of the song, so no one was able to eat it (though many probably still would have). A Scubadog banner also found its way into the audience, and fans held it up and danced with the banner, while shouts of "SCUBA" echoed through the venue. It was all a little silly, but it was the perfect kind of Scubadog antic that makes their shows so fun.
The indie pop funtimes continued for a good while, but unfortunately, Scubadog's show was over all-too-soon. However, it was a dancing crazy fun time that was the perfect release for busy students.
ACRN’s Lobsterfest couldn’t have kicked off better this year. Not only is every night free for festival-goers and those who randomly stumble into the right bar on the right night, but the lineup is a virtual who’s-who of the Athens music scene as well as a few fresh faces from out of town.
Last night was a meat and potatoes kind of evening. The venue: Casa Cantina, an Athens staple and a personal favorite of yours truly. The performers: Stomp The Condor, The Kyle Sowashes, Scubadog and Tin Armor, all acts that have developed a particular following here in town.
Unfortunately my arrival was delayed, and I was only able to catch Stomp The Condor sing happy birthday to a fan in the crowd. I was disappointed to say the least, those guys seemed like fun.
After settling in, one thing became abundantly clear to me--the place was packed, and there were more people constantly filing in. I’m not a regular on the bar scene, but I can’t remember the last time I saw Casa that full in the three years I’ve been going there.
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been so surprised . The Kyle Sowashes were about to go on, but before last night I wasn’t aware of what a big deal that actually was. The bands upbeat lo-fi indie-pop is infectious. Some of the lyrical content can get lost in the loud distortion, but the brand of music and the quartet’s excellent instrumentation (guitar solos from Mr. Kyle Sowash, himself, on nearly every track) leads to such a great live show that it’s hard to care. I’ve had people simply gush about this band to me, and I’m now starting to understand why.
Nearly everyone stuck around to see Scubadog, but there was no sense of mystery surrounding it all for me this time. If you’ve trolled around the local music scene in the past few years, these guys have become all too familiar. Teddy Humpert and Jake Householder are now in their second band together. It was the first time I’d seen them with new drummer Chris Mengerink, but I honestly think this is the best show I’ve seen out of them. Maybe these journeymen are ready to break through.
To my chagrin, Casa seemed rather cavernous just minutes after Scubadog finished. The band playing the late slot unfairly has to deal with tired eyes and the need for rest from fans more so than the other acts. Most times you don’t miss anything particularly spectacular, but then again Tin Armor doesn’t normally fill the late slot. The Columbus pop act remains one of the best kept secrets. I’m starting to see the same devoted faces when Tin Armor comes to town, a sort of cult following, if you will. That sounds strange coming from a pop act, normally there’s an instant universal appeal. Consider me baffled, but hopefully soon more and more people start to notice.
Lobsterfest continues tonight (June 3) at The Union at 10 P.M. and then Saturday in front of South Green campus starting at noon.
Like I said before, it’s all free, so your broke ass doesn’t have an excuse not to go.
It begins with Allen Ginsberg. It always begins with Allen Ginsberg. And this Friday night, it began with Allen Ginsberg--or at least a man with his glasses and hazed stare--hitting on my mom on the Casa Cantina dance floor.
Yes friends, it is Moms Weekend in Athens and as we all know, when spring dawns on this town things can get a little preposterous. We know this, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
The walk from West Green to Casa alone proved that Athens would be in top form: encounters with Rick the Court Street pianist, two dueling violinists outside of Bagel Street, the late-night accordionist making a rare appearance before after hours, and even an enthusiastic breakdancer outside of the diner. There were almost as many street performers on Court Street Friday as there are bars. I love this town.
We arrived at Casa just in time to catch the beginning of opening act Wolf Ram Heart’s set. We also beat the door man--cheating Casa out of cover charge is a rare and exciting feat. I almost felt bad about it until the front man of Southeast Engine congratulated us. If the headliner sanctions it, it’s fair game. But I digress: Wolf Ram Heart.
Let’s talk about Wolf Ram Heart. Like most people who were raised on too much VH1 Classic, I love Pink Floyd but I also love to hate on all other forms of prog rock, all the time, always, no exceptions. Wolf Ram Heart is the exception. I loved their set. They played flawlessly and got people dancing, high praise for an opening act. The highlight was their cover of “Lips like Sugar”-- nothing gets the cougars boogieing like Echo & the Bunnymen.
After Wolf Ram Heart went Scubadog. It was their first show with their new drummer and I have to say it was a success. Whether their guitarist is using his capo as a slide or they are using an ipad as a musical instrument, Scubadog never fails to change things up and have a good time. Their set was great and Jesse Remnant from Southeast Engine even got up to play moroccos for them.
Speaking of Southeast Engine... Athens loves Southeast Engine. They are the kings of Casa Cantina. They might be on Daytrotter, but they are NOT a “national act.” They are our act, and they are great at it. They introduced tunes from their latest album Canary, which they referred to as their “ode to Athens,” and each one was a hit in its own right. Whether singing devastatingly poetic ballads about Appalachian coal miners or upbeat toe-tappers, Southeast Engine knows how to put on a great live show. They recognize that the surest way to a girl’s heart is with a harmonica but make no mistake, these boys can JAM when they are compelled.
A “bro” in the front row who had a few too many tried to get loud with Southeast Engine, but no one messes with the kings in their castle. Their drummer, always one for entertaining facial expressions, exclaimed “Shut up!”--while simultaneously accomplishing an excellent fill, I might add--and the offender retreated into the shadow of his flat-brim baseball cap, not to be heard from again.
When the set was over, Athenians of course begged for more, and the boys of Southeast Engine, like the gentlemen that they are, gave the crowd a choice: “Would you like rock first? Or anthem?” “BOTH!” we exclaimed, and they obliged, ending with a guitar solo off of the base drum. If only there would have been slashing windmills involved. Maybe next time Casa...
ACRN turned 40 on April 9 at The Union, and if you weren't there, then it's your own damn fault.
Alumni and current Lobsters alike turned out, making the show one of the most well-attended shows I've seen ACRN put on in a while. Given my absence from Athens for the previous four months, seeing the formidable lineup of bands was quite intriguing. Whale Zombie, In Silent Movies and Scubadog had been personal favorites prior, while the D-Rays were a completely new act for me. With a lineup featuring some of my Athens favorites and one that could very well be destined to join those ranks, it was sure to be a great night.
The D-Rays are a psych-garage rock band that features Erick Coleman on guitar, Missy Pence on bass and Aaron Lemley on drums. Now, I will probably be showing my unfamiliarity with the Athens music scene prior to, say, 2009, but I'm not quite sure what band(s) -- if any -- the former two had been a part of prior to the D-Rays. I only assume they've been in some other bands due to their playing ability. Coleman was great on guitar, and probably quite formidable on vocals as well, though the vocal mix we're all so used to at The Union made him a bit difficult to hear.
I enjoyed everything about the band. Coleman and Pence were tight together, with Coleman letting loose some ripping guitar solos and Pence staying steady with more than a few appealing basslines. I can dig any band in which I can actually hear the bass quite well, and the D-Rays are one such band. And to be quite honest, the most pleasant surprise of the band's set in my mind was drummer Lemley. He so happens to be the drummer of Athens country-folk standard Duke Junior and the Smokey Boots in addition to his tenure here, and while I absolutely adore the Boots' music, Lemley's drumming was far more subdued -- as one might expect from such a band. With the D-Rays, Lemley seems to be able to let loose far more often, and it's altogether quite appealing, as he's an extremely talented drummer.
Given my relative ignorance of the band's genre, I can't speak to whether the band played mostly covers, mostly original tunes, or any combination of the two. I do know at least one song was a cover, as it was announced as such. I could not recognize any of the songs, so I cannot and will not speak to the original ownership of each song, but I will say this: if they were covers, I think they did the originals proud, and if they were originals, these guys could be going somewhere-- or at least could release a kick-ass album.
In Silent Movies, now a Columbus-based three-piece, took the stage next. It had been over 10 months since I had seen the band, always a favorite around here, so my excitement was evident and I pretty much told everyone at The Union to which I spoke that hadn't seen the band before (see: freshmen) that they were about to see a very formidable set. And ISM didn't disappoint. Throwing in some seemingly newer songs (I'm pretty sure I hadn't heard the songs in question, at least) and the standards such as "Deep Sea Diver" and "Plan of Attack."
Speaking once again to the general inability to hear vocals all that well at the venue, it proved slightly difficult to discern that what singer/guitarist Josh Landis was saying from time to time, but quite frankly, I was enjoying the set from nostalgia enough that I didn't care all too much. Both Landis and bassist Mike Jones were quite fun to watch on vocal-less segments of each tune, Landis following the old Christopher Walken/Bruce Dickinson adage of "Explore the space." I was also surprised to find that the band had found a new drummer: Randy, whose last name I do not know. I'm not going to be that guy that decides to compare old versus new from here, but we'll certainly say that Randy is a more-than-formidable replacement.
Now, let me get this out of my system: SCUUUUUUUBBAAAAAAAAAA.
Yep, Scubadog was the next band. Scubadog showed once again why they're one of the best live acts in Athens today. Truly, words cannot and will not fully describe the enjoyability of the four-piece's set. Jake Householder and Teddy Humpert were a devastating two-pronged attack as always, on both vocals and guitar/bass. Their banter is hilarious, and their songs are just damn catchy. In one such instance, Householder deemed the band's upcoming tune about their affinity for cops, which set Householder and Humpert into a minute-long shpeel ("But aren't they all?") before finally declaring, "Respect your local law enforcement officers!"
For me, the funniest part about seeing Scubadog live is that I still don't know half the names of the songs. Do I know the songs in terms of actually recognizing them when they're played? Absolutely. But aside from "Randy" and "Patience," I've got nothing. For me, that almost adds to the myth of Scubadog, a "super-group" of sorts that hadn't even released any recorded music until recently, when two singles were released digitally. If there is one band that I wish would record a full-length here in Athens, it's Scubadog. Hands. The fuck. Down.
Before I continue on, I must express my happiness that Josh Antonuccio is still playing in the band. Unless I just heard incorrectly, I had been under the impression that 2010's ACRN Lobsterfest was to be his final show with the band. This statement, was it ever made, has been disproven a number of times now. I'm not complaining, because Antonuccio is probably one of my favorite guitarists to actually watch play.
By the time Whale Zombie rolled around, I can honestly say that I was a little inebriated due to the fact that my 21st birthday had been just two days prior, meaning that I could actually buy drinks for myself -- and that I very much did. This caused my attention span to become a bit limited, and thus my engagement with Whale Zombie's set was curtailed. Still, as always, they put on a great show. Despite their not playing my personal favorite (I think it's titled "Transcendental Bullshit"), the mix of instrumentals and vocal-infused tracks kept the audience on its toes and moving -- quite a bit. Aside from a corner of The Union that went into a frenzy during the D-Rays' final song, dancing was never as crazy nor as plentiful as it was during Whale Zombie's set.
All in all, I'd say the night was a rip-roarin' success. Super yayz, all bands involved. Super. Yayz.
Following the show, I hit up the Union Street Diner -- and let me tell you, 3 a.m. steak and eggs has never tasted so delectable.
Duke Jr. and the Smokey Boots undoubtedly stole the stage last night at Casa Cantina as Scubadog, Whale Zombie, and Chris Biester opened, but the real show-stopper was the announcing of Nelsonville Music Festival’s headliners.
Chris Biester’s soulful voice and blues/folk guitar got the crowd going early in the night. His onstage banter was not only heartfelt, but also hysterical. Sharing personal experiences of near car crashes and more, he got the crowd laughing and ready for the show to come.
Scubadog’s set was fun and energetic, playing mostly the band’s own material. The band covered Bruce Springsteens’s “Dancing in the Dark,” which got the lights off and the hips shaking at Casa.
After Scubadog’s set, the headliners for Sunday and Friday of the festival were announced. On Friday, the festival will welcome country music legend George Jones. Jones has had 14 number-one country hits, including his 1959 song “White Lightning.” On Sunday of the festival, Neko Case will bring her indie fury to Nelsonville. Known for her solo work and work with the New Pornographers, Case is among the best female singer-songwriters in the world.
Whale Zombie played next with their ambient, flirting with shoegaze, style. Every band that played seemed to have a little extra vigor in their set, excited at the thought of Nelsonville’s yearly extravaganza.
After Whale Zombie’s set was the moment everyone was waiting for. The announcement of Saturday’s headliner was here. The crowd grew almost silent and then the words were spoken. The Flaming Lips will be headlining Saturday of the festival, and the crowd erupted.
The Flaming Lips have been kings of the indie scene for almost 30 years now. The Flaming Lips are most known for their album Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, which is not to lessen the band’s 12 other albums.
Duke Jr. and the Smokey Boots took the stage after that. The band played a mix of new and older songs, each of which as earnest as the last. The sultry Jessica Kauffman got the crowd going with the band’s rendition of “Shaking All Over,” and Kyle Martin’s vocals also captivated the crowd. Matt Horne’s fiddle and banjo combo brought it all together as Aaron Lemley and Casey Davis mesmerized as well.
This very well may have been the show to see this quarter in Athens, but Southeast Engine may prove otherwise opening sibs weekend Friday February 18th at Casa.
--Brian Bound, Staff Writer
____
A second perspective:
“What is happening in Casa Cantina right now?!?” “I think... I think it’s a mosh pit”
Friday Night in Athens marked what was perhaps a first for beloved Casa Cantina, a full out mosh-pit (complete with token mohawk-dude) brought to you by Whale Zombie. That hard wood floor has never seen so much action. I hope someone got those kids some tofu fries. They looked exhausted by the time Whale Zombie finished their set.
Scubadog killed it, as always. I’m not sure anyone represents a college town band better than Scubadog and that’s why we love them. Well, that and that Bruce Springsteen cover.
Duke Jr. and the Smokey Boots closed the night. Unfortunately I had to book-out part of the way into their set, but from what I saw they we’re playing great and by the looks of the crowd they would carry on without me just fine.
All this being said, maybe you heard it mentioned that last night at Casa marked the announcement of the Nelsonville Music Festival 2011 headliners. Neko Case Sunday night, George Jones Saturday night (apparently I was the only college kid that knew who George Jones was. Let me school you: Elton John’s glasses, the rugged "badassadry" of Johnny Cash, and a sad sad soul. He wrote country songs when they were still worthy of a listen. I swear, there was a time when that happened), and--hold your breath indie-kids--THE FLAMING LIPS Friday night! Now I’m not a big Flaming Lips fan myself but I’m still darn proud that our Nelsonville Music Fest can attract such a big act. Great Job, fest-planners.
Now, someone help that mohawk-kid. I think he hurt his arm...
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.
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.”
Lobsterfest is right! I look like a damn lobster right now with this sunburn, and it doesn't even make sense that I do; seeing as, we were only outside for the first couple hours of the morning!
As I walked to set-up at 10 in the morning, I shot a venomous glare at a kid who was toting an umbrella as he walked, thinking his preparation for rain a curse. Turns out, my causality logic may be a bit off, but the kid was wise to have had an umbrella.
Stages were set and humans were arriving on South Beach when storm clouds started forming. Promo Director Aaron Vilk announced before the first act's playing, "We're gonna rage out here for as long as possible."
We didn't get to "rage" outside for very long at all...
Melk was the first act of the day, and the only one that got to play outdoors. Their set was preceded by a long, low growl of thunder before Mother Nature got a slapping of drowning-outage in her gloomy face from the drum and bass duo that comprised Brian Jackson and Ghost of Asa Phelps' vocalist/guitarist Ryan Ford (or "Boomer" and "Sick Old Bastard" as they preferred to be called onstage). Rough instrumentation and unintelligible lyrics were the name of the game with Melk, though, I think I may have picked up some "fuck"s here and there. The band's sound was just as ominous as the looming storm clouds that would force Lobsterfest into the South Pole below Nelson after its performance.
The migration to the South Pole was a quick one as everything got packed in and the original stages were covered with protective tarp. Inside the air-conditioned rec room in the parking garage, everyone found a place to sit and to socialize as we waited for everything to get reorganized.
Bag of Hair, formerly known as Sandcrawler, captivated the room as the drummer and guitarist went madmen on their instruments and what appeared to be an interpretive dancer in an Iron Man mask wearing an American flag as a cape pranced and flailed about. I wont lie and say that he didn't make me nervous, but those dancing at the front of the crowd didn't seem to be so weary, especially when the band announced that they were playing a song from "Pete & Pete."
Then came Legends of Wrestling
What the hell, Brotthheerrrr? Legends of Wrestling, a Grindcore sideshow of all things brutal, took place in a makeshift wrestling ring with two-man tag-team of Ty Owen and Pat Snyder pacing within its confines. They wore football pads with nails driven through them and red and black face paint. Terrifying.
With songs that were shorter than the roughly 30-second intros given to them played from a Mac and screamed over by the men within the ring, Legends of Wrestling held my and everyone else's attention.
Characters such as a honky-tonk bigot, an evangelical hater with a "God Hates Grind" sign (Aaron Vilk in drag) and Bret Hart met their ends at the hands of the Legends and their harnessed Warrior powers via guitar-beating, light-tube shattering and trashcan doom respectively. I actually found it hilarious and, even...brilliant. Too far? No. Brilliant. I even left with a bruise on my arm from being barreled into by Owen after the set. I'm just glad no one lost an eye from those football pad nails.
At that point, as I sat at the merch table, performances started blurring together for me, perhaps because it was nearing dinner time and I had yet to have breakfast or that my sunburn was starting to eat at my brain. The tunes just weren't motivating me to get up from being the obsessively organizing shirt-nazi behind the merch table to get a better view.
In Silent Moves, Whale Zombie, and Manor Animals are bands I often hear praised here in Athens and in this blog, but that I had neither actually "scene" nor heard (haha, get it?) until Lobsterfest. All three, especially the latter two, drew a very distinct crowd, one that appeared to have actually seen them play as many times as I had heard they were playing. They danced, sang along and had a fabulous time to the music.
I must admit at this point that my attention is something that is easily lost, and -- though the music was good, I can't remember much of it. Again, sunburn blur. I do, however, remember one song from, I believe, Manor Animals that had the lyrics, "Oh, oh, oh my God!" happening. That was cute.
I was able to stick around just long enough to see my favorite local band, The Ghost of Asa Phelps.
I don't know why I even like those guys. There's so much dude happening all the time with them. Seriously. It's an almost overwhelming amount of brothership. Well, maybe I like them because I like dudes. Maybe I have an attraction to dudeship. Nah, I think it's the fact that the bassist definitely started playing Alkaline Trio's "Trouble Breathing" as they soundchecked. That's what gets me with those guys: It's familiarity and closeness to my tastes that most other Athens bands don't offer that helps make me feel more secure in this place. Now I'm writing like I'm selfish, but whatever. I enjoy the band. What can I say?
The last time I had seen TGOAP, the band performed a Misfits cover, and I'll admit that I was crossing my fingers for another one this round, but I wasn't disappointed when they covered "Fortunate Son" by Creedence Clearwater Revival for the singer's father. It certainly lead to sing-alongs and grins... Not that sing-alongs aren't the absolute norm for those guys. Again, DUDES, a pack of them, are always found in the front row ready to lend their voices for gang vocals. They played two new songs, one of which was a slow one, described by the band's singer/guitarist as being "about a girl, but -- in a way -- aren't they all?" True.
I left at 8:30 p.m. just before She Bears played to look for an icy lake of aloe into which I could throw my sensitive-skinned self. Before I left, I took note from Ty that I should at least come back to see Coltrane Motion play. I probably should have and would have taken that suggestion had I not fallen ill by the time I reached my dorm room.
Oh, well. I got my 10 hours in at Lobsterfest and can't wait to do it again next year!
Fortunately, Miss Hannah Cook was there to tell you how the rest of the day went!
--Cassie Whitt, Blogs Editor
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I didn’t even know this so-called South Pole existed. When the sky was cracked down the middle with a strike of lightening and everyone collectively decided to move the show inside, I was so confused as to why they were going into a parking garage. “You…you guys. That’s…not…a place,” I thought. It was a place, though, with a stage and a refrigerator and chairs and inside-ness. But it was an odd atmosphere for live music. I felt like I was in the lobby of a hospital or in a dining hall at a summer camp. Needless to say, it just didn’t seem like the right place for Lobsterfest. But Lobsterfest controlled the South Pole. South Pole did not control it. And despite the technical and weather mishaps, bands, duos, lobsters and weirdos alike rose to the occasion. As Cassie covered the beginning of the day, I shall cover the end. Although, there are a few things from the beginning that I’d like to discuss. Only because…shit got weird. And sort of scary. Ty Owen, I hardly know you, but you never ever fail to freak me out entirely, and I’m sure that’s sort of the point. Cassie will do the description justice, but I just had to add my personal thoughts and feelings about the matter. First, I hope the three dudes who got hit brutally by light bulbs, guitars, chairs, “cocaine,” etc. are okay. It looked painful and real. I hope that I didn’t look like too much of a pansy in comparison to the badassness when I threw my hands to my cheeks and widened my eyes in worry.Second, those boys are quite the screamers and quite the intimidators. They were just pacing around the home-made wrestling ring, making a mess, spitting water, dripping sweat and face paint, beating the crap out of people. Dear GOD. Third, way to be inventive. I wasn’t sure what to expect as I had heard mutters of eagerness about this Legends of Wrestling. I honestly thought it was going to be a band playing whilst people wrestle. But this was much more creative. Music wise, not really my style. I’m much more in to calm Indie delightfulness. If I had to put a contrary to that, it would probably be Legends of Wrestling. It’s okay though, because the show in and of itself was entertainment enough for me. I missed a few bands during my naptime. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have missed Lobsterfest for a nap. But if you only knew my weariness. It just had to be done.I also skipped out on a couple bands who I had seen before, like She Bears and The Ghost of Asa Phelps, so I wasn’t terribly upset, though I am sorry. What I was terribly upset about, however, was that I didn’t get to see what musical essence the young man in the dress (Evolve) had to offer. I knew, just from lookin’ at ‘im, that it was probably going to be really interesting and probably really worth not napping. When I walked in as he was clearing off his technological who-nots, I asked about him. Apparently it was a DJing and rapping sort of thing. Which makes it all so much more bizarre. I guess I’ll never know. I caught the end of Coltrane Motion, who were really cool. They were two men sounding like many more. One was on a keyboard and computer, the other on electric guitar, and they worked together to form danceable beats and clever sounds. There’s nothing I love more than some good electriconically-steered music. The movement of their bodies only added to it all. They twisted their legs around, slammed their feet backward, jumped, hunched over, nearly always looking like they would fall down. They were limitless. I wondered who the people in bright yellow, marching band-looking uniforms were and apparently I was really out of the loop for not knowing. Forgive my ignorance. They were Flotation Walls, and they were magnificent. They had dynamics and joyous harmonies that were radiating like a sun’s rays through their bright yellow bodies. The girl’s voice was so beautiful. It had a sort of opera tone about it, very full and impeccable. But then she could also make it rougher and loud. It's the sort of voice I wish I had, but I won’t digress to that. At the last song, the lead singer, in all his cheery sincerity, came off the stage and into the crowd, as we all sung our last verse of “oohs” and “aahhs” together, like an unpolished choir.
Check out a video our Managing Editor Kevin Rutherford took of Flotation Walls' performance:
Russenorsk was the last band I saw. I honestly don’t feel like I can be the one to write about them. They’re an Athens legend I unfortunately missed as a youngin’. But I looked around often, at all the people in the crowd who clearly realized what they had missed since September. And they were rejoicing in the reunion, both with tears and smiles. Perhaps the song that triggered wild emotions most was “Long Winter’s Coming.” Even in me it did, and I wasn’t around to see any of this unfold. The cello was alluring behind Tim’s unique chords and crafty loop pedaling. Man, I love a good orchestral string instrument in modern music. All their instrumentation pieced together so perfectly. It just didn’t seem like they hadn’t played in months. Their warning of potential rustiness was not necessary No apologies were needed, and no forgiveness was shed. Everyone was just enjoying the moment for what it was worth and soaking in the nostalgia. This whole thing needs a much grander description and appreciation than what I’ve given. But if you were there, you know.I missed Sidekicks! Crap! Apparently it was a good show too. I just figured since I wasn’t that into to pop-punk stuff that it just wasn’t for me. Stupid stereotyping! Alas, my first Lobsterfest is over, and those set to leave have had their last. We young ones have big shoes to fill and a turny, adventurous route of footsteps to follow. We can only hope we’ll make it out alive and well, the way our old friends have. I was going to get all sentimental about the leaving seniors and juniors, but this may not be the right place or right time. I can’t get like that anyway; I have finals to study for. --Hannah Cook, Live Reviews Editor
Photos and Flotation Walls video Courtesy of Managing Editor Kevin Rutherford
ACRN.com's Scene and Heard: Local Music Recap strives to comprehensively cover the happenings of Athens music scene. Each week our editors, writers, and photographers hit live shows, basement parties with sweet bands, bar mitzvahs with badass DJs, etc. around town and report back with the action on the scene. Note: If you want someone from ACRN.com to check out your event, e-mail editorial@acrn.com.
