Lobsterfest: Day Three!

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 believe it was during Scubadog's performance that I left to edit Carolyn's review of Lobsterfest Day 2 and came back to catch the end of The Cutter Family's set then to be re-energized by Tin Armor, whose music made me start bobbing my head again.

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:

Flotation Walls - "Kids, Look at the Waves" from Kevin Rutherford on Vimeo.

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 birthday -- pretty much awesome

On a cool April Friday night, Lobsters young and old descended upon the Union for a night of cake-induced debauchery, balloons and well, obviously, good music. Lots and lots of good music.

ACRN's 39th Birthday Show began with a bang with the boys of Andrew W.K. cover band Who Knows? (hailing from Athens High School). Who Knows? took to the stage in front of a mixed crowd of both high schoolers and OU student s, and they certainly got the crowd into a raucous mood, inciting singalongs and even a near-mosh pit. Adding to the intrigue was the presence of a plethora of balloons tossed into the crowd, which bounced about like beach balls at a Nickelback concert. (By the way: if you can correctly name the movie I just so wittingly referred to, send me an email at Kevin.S.Rutherford@gmail.com and I will high five you the next time I see you.)

A portion of the crowd dissipated following the end of Who Knows?'s set (apparently ACTs were the next day), though a sizable crowd remained for prog-jazz quartet Five Deadly Venoms, while a few latecomers straggled in. They were the lone band I had seen before (Lobsterfest 2K9, wut wut!) and, as with before, did not disappoint. Flipping between vocal tunes and instrumentals, the band employed the use of a saxophone -- which was played captivatingly by also-guitarist Ben Ashman.

The tunes subsided for a while as a glorious lobster cake was presented for all to see onstage. And as anyone who's spent way too much time on the internet knows, when presented with delicious cake, you must eat it. And so we did. And it was delicious.

In my cake-induced stupor, I was caught off guard when the next act, In Silent Movies, went on. Thus I could finally check them off as one of those local acts that I keep hearing about but never actually see. I'm glad I finally made it out to see 'em. This trio probably has one of the better chances of any in the area to turn heads on a larger, more national stage. I hate to make a Muse reference here because the style of music is most definitely not one and the same, but dammit, I haven't heard three guys make this much noise since Muse. Their banter was perfect as well. "Women and Children First" and "Deep Sea Diver" were certain standouts.

The evening reached the beginning of its end, with the Cutter Family closing out the party. By that point, many of the attendees had departed for the evening. It was almost somewhat amusing that the apex in terms of turnout had showed up for the first band, whereas the low point was for the final act. Nevertheless, the Cutter Family put on a blistering show, with rapid punk numbers and songs about, as the frontman put it, drinking and being alone. Ah, the good life.

The time came for closin' up, and so those of us who remained at the show to its close headed on out, back into the cold, I for my usual ritual of Ali Baba's Gyros after a Union show. All in all, it was a diverse show, full of many different sounds and many different people. Thanks to the Union for having us, and happy 39th, Rock Lobster! Way to do it with style.

-Kevin Rutherford, Senior Critic

ACRN's Lobsterfest 2011: Day Two / June 3 / The Union

The Friday night edition of Lobsterfest 2011 started off at The Union with Nurser, a band who seemed very much at home within the confines of the dark upstairs music venue.

I had missed Nurser to this point, and actually had not read anything about them aside from our hilarious interview with them this week. So, aside from knowing them to be humorous young gentlemen, I had no idea what sort of music to expect.

Nurser plays a sort of... we'll go with noise rock. I can certainly see why some people would not be into this (it does seem to be a very polarizing genre), but I dug it. Shane Riley's guitar sound was probably the most untuned I've ever heard, and his vocals were admittedly a bit hard to hear over the cacophony of noise built up behind him. Then again, that's probably the point. Is it the point? If it's the point, they're winning.

One thing I could comment on was the overall tightness of the band... you can tell they've not been a band as long as some of the others, and--as a result--there does seem to be times that a beat is missed or delayed, or that something simply doesn't seem right with the music. These are just tiny instances that don't take away from the overall experience, but I'm sure they'll be back in the fall sounding better than before. And perhaps, as per their interview, playing in the vault of Chase Bank. Which would be rad.

Following Nurser was Evolve, a hip-hop act (sometimes duo) out of Cincinnati. This was my third experience with Evolve, the first coming at last year's Lobsterfest. Let me say that Evolve is an act never to be missed when he comes to the area (take note, Lobsters and Athenians not at the show last night!). Evolve is not your normal hip-hop/rap act. Rapping about the "social climate in modern Capitalist America," as he put it in an interview with us last fall, Evolve incorporates electronic beats and sounds into the easy-going rhymes. It's definitely a laid-back affair compared to what one may be used to from his genre of music.

The one thing that always irks me about Evolve's set is its length. I cannot say whether it's the fact that I'm enjoying the music or that the set really is that short, but a show with Evolve always seems to blow by. Short and sweet is at times something I can get behind for certain acts, but I'd love to hear more from Evolve. Maybe someday.

--Kevin Rutherford, Editorial Director
________________

Narrow and the Brights. See them. Immediately.

Frontman Tim Race, whose vocals fall somewhere between a less melancholic Ian Curtis and a less-produced Paul Banks, and drummer Zach Inscho, a percussion powerhouse, put on the best set of the night with the help of their bassist Brad Wilson, no slouch himself.

Soaring guitars, a drum kit getting worked-- nearly abused-- and the conclusion that Narrow and the Brights are undoubtedly the strongest post-punk act I’ve seen come through yet this quarter, made Lobsterfest, Friday night edition, completely worth it.

After Narrow and the Brights went Child Bite. Hardcore is not my forte but I can defintely respect these guys. I probably won’t be caught at Haffa’s buying their album, but their energy was staggering. I am still trying to figure out how their keyboardist/vocalist made it around the stage that much, seemingly without missing any of his parts. I am also still trying to figure out how their bassist ended up on the floor of the Union at the end of their final track with a girl straddling him. Details will be provided as further developments come to light.

--Amanda Norris, Staff Writer

The Sowashes are back!

The laudable lineup of The Kyle Sowashes, Scubadog and Blithe Field took to the stage late Saturday evening at Athens' Casa Cantina. I arrived rather early, having missed out on two Casa shows in the past due to the venue already being "at capacity" before each show's allotted start time. I had no intentions of making that mistake a third time, and I was pleased to find that the place wasn't even half-full when I arrived.

Blithe Field started off the evening. As the only act I had not seen prior to that evening as well as the first act of its kind I had witnessed live, I could not hide my intrigue as Blithe Field's single member began his set. As the venue slowly filled up, we bobbed along to the sampled, electronic beats that filled the room. One song in particular was passingly referred to as a "club jam," and if our honeys were in the vicinity, we should find 'em. Paraphrasing, of course. I did not have a honey, so I felt a bit lonely. Then, no one else really seemed to have anyone either, so I couldn't really be too upset.

The men of Scubadog came next, and as they proved once again, there is never a dull moment at a Scubadog show. They sounded even better than I remembered them -- and it hadn't even been a month since my first encounter with the band (when they played with Flotation Walls and She Bears earlier this month at the Union). The energy was high and as far as comparing Scubadog to the other two acts that evening, they actually probably got the most substantial crowd response.

Oh, and did I mention the show was sponsored by Twilight? Well, it was. Scubadog's Teddy Humpert told me so.

Columbus' Kyle Sowashes capped off the evening.

I saw these guys at Lobsterfest last year, and to be honest, they were probably my favorite act. Their banter can be hilarious, and their songs are just as praiseworthy. You get a real "normal guys" vibe with this band, and it seems as if everyone can relate to at least one of their songs. The best part was that if you hadn't seen the Kyle Sowashes before, it really wasn't a big deal; they played a fair amount of new songs mixed in with some of their much older material. One comment from lead singer Kyle Sowash: "We wrote this song when you guys were probably freshmen in high school." Gee, Kyle, now I feel old, too.

The Sowashes' set ended a little before one in the morning, capping off two-plus hours of some toe-tapping, arms-flailing goodness from three of Ohio's finest. All in all, a good night for live music in Athens, Ohio. You should've been there.

-Kevin Rutherford, Senior Critic
Photograph courtesy of The Kyle Sowashes' Myspace

The Ridges / October 28, 2011 / The Ridges

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

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

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

Ahem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Sax Man dominates The Union

First of all, apologies to We March. I had intended on seeing your set but was literally about to collapse due to exhaustion. I shall make it up to you one day.

I did at least witness Whale Zombie and Terrible Twos Friday night at the Union. Seeing both in concert was a first for me, and I'd heard grand things about both. I even read that Terrible Twos will be playing this year's South By Southwest festival. I mean, really, if you're playing that, you can't be all that bad, right?

So I of course fulfilled my usual obligation of getting to an Athens show two hours early, leaving, and then coming back again, treading through the quickly-accumulating snow with plenty of time to spare. Athens' Whale Zombie started their set shortly after 11:30.

I'm gonna tell you what, I really like these guys. Whale Zombie is one of those types that rely minimally on vocals (perhaps two songs total featured them, and you couldn't even hear them to be honest) and still manage to captivate you, a la bands such as Russian Circles. There's a ton of guitar distortion, some fantastic drumming and dancing, dancing, dancing.

Probably the best part of the evening occurred when one of the audience members jumped up onstage and randomly started playing a saxophone. I can't be sure if this happens often. What was best about this, however, was that Mr. Sax Man played on only one song, went back into the crowd and then did this Superman leap into some of the people in the front row about halfway through, causing all hell to break loose.

Seriously, I really enjoyed these guys. I might be a bit biased because I have a soft spot for (largely) instrumental bands. If anyone wants to form a similar band and doesn't mind teaching me an instrument (unless you need a trombonist), call me. We'll rock that shit.

The fantastic Terrible Twos came next. These guys are out of Detroit, and as mentioned earlier, will be at South By Southwest this March. And I'll tell you what: they're more than worthy of that festival. Keep in mind that this is coming from a guy whose ideal music-listening experience is listening to a combination of the Decemberists, Mumford & Sons and Cat Stevens while idly sipping a cup of tea. Terrible Twos are pretty much at the other side of the spectrum musically, full of writhing, ferocious punk with a formidable dual attack on vocals. I bobbed along fervently to the beat. I was rendered half-deaf by standing next to the speakers. And I enjoyed every minute of it. Check 'em out next time they're in town.



It was at this point that the combination of a lack of caffeine-induced headache and absolute exhaustion took its final toll on my soul; I had to leave right before We March began. I probably should've sucked it up in retrospect, but sleep had never sounded so good in my life. That and (I'm not kidding) I really was deaf in one ear.

Once again, apologies to We March. Please don't hurt me.

--Kevin Rutherford, Senior Critic

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

Elemental Groove Theory taught me how to move

Elemental Groove Theory taught me how to move...

Granted, "moving" for me is not much more than nodding my head, maybe moving my leg a bit, and not TOO much else. But it's more than what it used to be, particularly at the onset of my college career. As opposed to not moving at all, I'll take this any day.

I had the honor of seeing EGT in concert for the fourth time Thursday evening, and for the second time (maybe third... hell, I can never remember these things) with the like-minded First Street Heat.

This time in particular was for the eight-piece's CD release party, the first of -- hopefully -- many. Students and non-students alike trudged from all over to the Union to witness an evening of horns, hula hoops and funk-- all in the name of a brand new album from one of Athens' most prominent bands.

The First Street Heat were a more-than-worthy opening band. The band's malleable, ever-changing lineup was still as tight as can be, with swelling brass and stellar vocals from Ben Kain, Eden Lee and Eric Turner. And, of course, people got down. Like whoa. It may well be because it was freshest in my mind, but I cannot remember seeing that much dancing at a show in quite some time. And what was more? The place was packed. The two bands have always been known to bring large crowds to the Union for their shows, and Thursday night was no different. If you were in the front of the audience and had to leave even for a moment, you'd have to forget about getting that spot back. Things were intense.

Elemental Groove Theory only ramped up the intensity of the evening. Though the First Street Heat were, as always, exceedingly eye-catching and entertaining, there is no funk rock band I've seen that can beat EGT. Having heard their new album in its entirety (a must-listen, by the way) and having spoken to a few band members themselves in an article I wrote last spring, I can confidently say that the band is simply too talented and entertaining to pass up on any night.

It was a great hour-plus of music. After starting off with an immense jam-like song sans vocals, singer Rachel Maxann emerged onstage as the band launched into -- arguably -- their best song, "Live Your Style." It contains a lyric, "Music will change everything," which I particularly like. It's simple, sure, but it can be the truth. And when you see the crowd reaching toward Maxann and the stage while she sings those lyrics, well, it certainly is inspiring to say the least.

The night wore on but the intensity never died. Bassist Matt Urminski aimed his bass into the crowd like a shotgun, guitarists Mark "Mavis" Meredith and Dan Perez traded harmonic, blistering guitar solos, and the brass/woodwind combo of saxophonist Kyle Slemmer and trumpet Dustin Bastin are seriously two of the most talented players of each respective instrument I've had the opportunity to see live. Keyboardist Mike Brokamp's solos were always welcome and the crowd always seemed to dig them, plus the guy has an incredible amount of energy while onstage. Drummer Eric Wright donned an enormous fuzzy hat for the occasion. Frankly, while watching him, I thought about how it was a wonder that the thing even stayed on as he played.

Hilariously enough, after finishing up their album's closing song, the ten-minute "The 751," Urminski leaned into the microphone and asked the crowd if they liked the song. He proceeded to note that ACRN called the song the worst on their new album. For a fleeting moment I felt like yelling out that not all of ACRN thought this, that this was just one person's opinion, especially since the track was one of my favorites on the album. But to each their own, right? Right.

The evening ended just shy of 2 a.m., after the band had played most (maybe all? It's so hard to keep track!) of their new disc and had inserted in a few covers and other originals as well. The verdict: I think everyone most certainly left satisfied. I know I did.

Though seeing them live is an experience in and of itself and should be witnessed at all costs, Elemental Groove Theory also has a great record out now that is many, many months in the making. Go out and get it. You won't be sorry.

--Kevin Rutherford, Managing Editor

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