32. The Will Callers at Club Dada, 7/29/11

32. The Will Callers, at Club Dada.

One of these people may be a Golden God.

So, what we usually do when we are unmoved by a band, as you might know if you've read this blog for a bit, what we do is we go see the O's.  So we left Sons of Hermann and went to Club Dada again.  Man, the O's were good.  We've noted that before, but still.  Man.  Even if they refused to show nipple when their picture was taken.

And after them, Fort Worth band the Will Callers took the stage.  Four fellows made up the archetypal rock setup, bass, drums, guitar, other guitar.  You know the drill.

Their set was country rock '70s style.  Actually, they looked the part too, long '70s hair (except the drummer who had sort of '80s hair), ripped jeans, the stage moves.  Americana, country rock, but more Lynyrd Skynyrd than Old 97's.  R said they reminded him of Sweetwater, the amalgam of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Led Zeppelin in the movie "Almost Famous."

The Will Callers showed commendable chops.  The songs weren't exactly earth-shaking, but the guys were talented and clearly put a lot of heart into the show, despite the fact that most people were there to see the O's.  We got the feeling they'd play equally hard for ten or a thousand people.  The vocals --- a little bit Steve Earle, a little bit Robbie Fulks, very Southern --- and outlaw country guitar riffs were particularly good, and we liked their energy.

They would have done well on a daylight stage, the opening act of a large festival, thousands of beer-soaked classic rock lovers cheering them on.  As it was, we imagined them playing a series of bars across south Texas.  As R said, "There's a bar somewhere in College Station that should be paying these guys a lot of money to play every week."

In sum: Solid country rock infused with a '70s vibe.  We liked the energy and the professionalism.

31. Fox and the Bird at Sons of Herman Hall, 7/29/11

31. Fox and the Bird, at Sons Of Hermann Hall.

Anyone else want to jump up here and join us?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, on Day Sixty-Four?

Paying ten dollars apiece at the top of the stairs at the venerable Sons of Hermann Hall, we went to go hear the old-timey, revivalist, neo-swing sounds of Fox and The Bird.  There were around 325 people in attendance.  And there were seven people up on stage, playing a variety of instruments: guitar, banjo, fiddle, drums, ukulele, perhaps a lute, accordion, even some kind of thumb piano or something. We aren't instrument experts.

We met Philip Peeples of the Old 97's there, and admired his Working Class Beard.

Starting with their self-titled theme song, Fox and the Bird blended both male and female voices into folksy harmonies over revivalist folk.  Sometimes the singer affected a kind of high nasal bluegrass twang, but thankfully this did not happen often.  They played well, but both of us found them a bit bland, somehow.  Yes, there were a lot of people on stage playing a lot of notes, but there was an energy lacking.  To engage us they needed a high-stepping shuffling beat, but this failed to materialize.  Instead we got a lot of the same kind of low-key folk.  Even the trumpet, when it came, was not the blaring foxtrot-inducing, jump-jive-an'-wail that we had hoped.

We lost what little interest we had when shushing began.  One of the female singers was about to start a solo, with lute, and apparently the audience was talking or something.  Being shushed at concerts is one of our pet peeves (one time we were shushed at a Leonard Cohen concert and nearly got into an altercation).  We have no idea whether the band or their zealous fans started this particular instance, of course, but look, our position is: you have the mike.  Sing loud, and sing something interesting.  If you're engaging, we'll stop talking.  Until then, we paid to be here, so play on.

Of course your mileage may vary.  As noted, there were over 300 people there, about half female, and about a third with hipster beards.  Clearly this is the kind of music liked by people who like this sort of thing.  Perhaps if you enjoy the sort of musical stylings such as are featured on the Garrison Keillor show, you will find Fox and the Bird to be the bee's knees, the cat's pyjamas, etc.

In sum: Though Fox and the Bird showed themselves to be very good at what they do, we found it to be the same thing repeatedly, and not too engaging in the first place.  Sometimes more people means less creativity: the band leans on the crutch of its ability to play lots of notes.  We felt FatB sacrificed songcraft on the altar of revivalism.  Nothing wrong with revivalism per se, of course; the Squirrel Nut Zippers, for example, are revivalists with fun, catchy songs.  We don't demand that bands play fun and catchy material, either.  Tom Waits, Palace, and Leonard Cohen, for example, move you with the power of the dark.  But FatB are neither fun nor dark, just rather bland.

30. White Denim at the Granada Theater, 7/23/11

30. White Denim, at the Granada.

False advertising: note total lack of white denim

The headliner of Gorilla vs Bear fest, White Denim, got about half an hour to perform thanks to Preteen Zenith's late start. A classic foursome, they played loud bluesy post-punk Rock And Roll.  No, really loud.

Seriously, it was loud.

Assured, clearly at home on stage and working well together, White Denim played frenetic New Rock, sounding a lot like an Americana-fueled Foo Fighters.  They had more chops than a Chinese restaurant (zing!).  Loud shouting urgent nasal vocals carried along and under thundering walls of brawny percussion.  Fast blues-based guitar riffs, repeated to build a sense of urgency and power.  Our ears were bleeding, but in a good way.

It's worth noting that despite this music being the loudest thing since Krakatoa, the sound was not muddled or distorted.  The intricate basslines and the pounding drums were clear and crisp.  Granada's sound guy really knows what he's doing.

Over the course of this Project, we've seen a lot of acts that played genres we wouldn't normally have been interested in.  One of the lessons of these shows is that the real power of music is the ability to just be so transcendent that it doesn't matter whether you "get it," but whether it affects you or not.  White Denim doesn't play R's genre of choice, but he was moved by their vigor and dynamic energy.  N, typically a fan of Snarling Punk Stuff, was more in his element and certainly enjoyed the music, but unfortunately the briefness of the set, the lateness of the hour, and the cochlear-melting volume made for a less than stellar showcase for White Denim.

In sum: White Denim is a tight-knit, talented band with a lot of ferocious energy.  A fine example of punk-based indie rock.  We didn't feel entirely at home with the loudness.  And as you know, if it's too loud...

Your blog authors: left to right, N and R.

(By the way, a Google image search for "two old guys" resulted in a depressing amount of pictures of guys our actual age.  Thanks a lot, young people.  You just wait.)

29. Preteen Zenith at the Granada Theater, 7/23/11

29. Preteen Zenith, at the Granada.

So remember how in our last post, we said we headed back to the Gorilla vs. Bear fest, which "should have been" going strong?  It turned out that Tim DeLaughter's new project, the pedophilic-sounding Preteen Zenith, had been setting up behind a curtain for about 25 or 30 minutes by the time we got there.  We scrambled to the balcony and, drinks in hand, waited an additional ten or maybe 15 more minutes before anything actually happened.

By this time the @GranadaTheater tweets, which were being displayed on the screens in real-time, were getting snarkier and more impatient: "There better be a fucking life size space ship on stage when that curtain goes up."  "By the time the curtain goes up they'll be Adult Zenith."  "Is Tim forming yet another band back there?" etc. 

But!  Then!  Suddenly!

A silent movie was projected on the screen!  Tim and some other dude, dressed as extras from "Deadwood" and wearing Old Timey Mustaches, ran around in some greenery.  It was largely incomprehensible, and by "incomprehensible" we mean "not interesting enough to invite the trouble it would take to figure it out."  This artsy short film was too much for our impatient friend T, who left.

Too bad for him, because right after the film ended, it was laser and music time!

White lights! Colored lasers! Red pants!

In a burst of confetti for the photoreceptors, Preteen Zenith stood bathed in white light and smoke and splattered with red and green lasers that careened all across the Granada's walls, ceiling, and audience.  Red and green: festive colors for Christmas, which it was by the time they came out.  Ha!  We kid, of course.

Where can I get one of those laser disco balls?

There was Tim, prancing about in a little green tunic and red pants, like a color-blind Peter Pan, with five other musicians, anonymous (in the sense of being totally obscured by lighting, not in the sense that their names are unknown) behind him. The music was layered, but not the layered high and melodic chorals of Polyphonic Spree.  This was bass-heavy, with droning synths, loud piano, and modulated guitars. The drums of Jason Garner were a standout, forceful and building a solid foundation for the sometimes precarious tower of noise.

It occurred to us that Tim would do very well writing a stage musical. Maybe a big concept musical a la "Tommy."  Perhaps if there were a book to this concert, it would seem less chaotic. 

Indeed, R thought of Preteen Zenith as a natural evolution from where the Spree left off, a sort of combination Tripping Daisy and musical theater. He thought it had more potential than N did, who found it all a bit reliant on the light and sound, missing the fury.  It might have been interesting to see them cut the lights and do something a capella or maybe with just the piano.  Just for a change-up, to showcase the melodies that were hiding in that grandiloquence.

Taking all into account, it was a spectacle... but not spectacular.  Grand musical theater like the Who, but the week-old Preteen Zenith did not show anything close to the songwriting chops that would justify such a visual excess.

After a late start, they began to run long.  Still they played on even as fans began to shout for the next act, White Denim.  Eventually the curtain was dropped in front of them before they could launch into yet another sparkly explosion of instrumentation.  The Granada had spoken: it was White Denim's turn now.

In sum: Fun, but not an amazing debut.  And marred by the fact that Tim DeLaughter over-reached.  The extended wait time, the meaningless film and the refusal to cede the stage was frankly rude to the fans, the venue, and White Denim.  Poor form.

28. The Old 97's at Rangers Ballpark, 7/23/11

28. The Old 97's at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington.

So then we took a break from Gorilla vs. Bear to rush over to the Rangers Ballpark, where we caught the last two innings of the game in which Dallas' favorite baseball team went from being down in the ninth to a 5-4 victory of the Toronto Blue Jays.

Not pictured: mom, apple pie.

Everyone (except N, who hates sports, crowds, and being instructed when to holler) was overjoyed at this turn of events, and it certainly made for a pleasant atmosphere for the Old 97's concert after the game.  If Dallas had lost, it's probably fair to say fewer people would have attended, or looked so pleased at standing around for another hour and half.

As it was, there was no looting.

Now, the Old 97's.  Before you proceed, it's probably a good idea for you, the reader, to go back and read what we had to say about the Rhett Miller show we attended, exactly a month ago.  Just so you know where we're coming from regarding these guys.  All that stuff applies here.  Grew up with Rhett, know the band, love them, they can do no wrong.

The other half of that sign says "Mex."

If you're familiar with the Old 97's, you know the energy they put into their shows.  They make more sound that you'd expect four middle-aged guys to make; Ken shreds, Philip pounds, Murray's yodeling, frenetic vocals are a perfect complement to Rhett's voice.  Rhett himself is a consummate showman, always bantering with the crowd, telling a few lines about a new song or a story behind an old one, rousing jingoistic local patriotism by mentioning Texas and Dallas every chance he gets.  An Old 97's show is always a show and frankly, never a disappointment.

Rhett dedicated the new song "Manhattan (I'm Gone)" to "a team the Rangers defeated last playoff season, the Yankees."  Murray provided his country-pone vocals on the cover "Rolling Stone From Texas," prefacing it by proudly admitting, "we're all rednecks where I come from."

The sounded fantastic, at peak, end-of-tour form.  Listening to these road veterans perform reminds you instantly and palpably how much of a gap there is between them and an up-and-coming band that doesn't do it for real. Seriously, if you're in a band and you're unsure how to do bantering (or marketing), come to an Old 97's show and take notes.

We were very pleased to see some young people in the crowd, college guys and even under-teens, singing along with all the words from not only fresh hits like "Every Night is Friday Night," but from the newest album.

After the well-received "A State of Texas," and the pleasant surprise of a cover of REM's "Driver 8," the band launched into the obligatory (but still sing-along powerful) "Big Brown Eyes."  We would have stayed, but it was time to leave the Grand Theatre and head back to the Granada Theater, where Gorilla vs. Bear was still going strong.  Or should have been, anyway.

In sum: Best band out of Texas.  One of the best bands currently performing.  Sure, we're biased --- but we're also right.

27. Pure X at the Granada, 7/23/11

27. Pure X, at the Granada.

Next up: Pure Y.

Gorilla vs. Bear continued with Austin's Pure X, a quartet who spent their set bathed in red and blue light and some artificially-induced fog.  Drums, guitar, keys, and bass, plus liberal use of modulators all combined to create an ethereal, shoegazing atmosphere.  The crowd was slightly larger than it was during Sunset's set, and stood around in mostly subdued but quite appreciative attention. 

Their trancey, echo-laden set recalled My Bloody Valentine and the broodier proponents of the emo genre.  Slow, low singing with held notes that grew to shouts, mostly lost in the mix of slow bass and drum.  The occasional burst of grinding guitar.  The vocals were echo-laden, backed with high lilting "oooooooh"s.  Clearly the singer was expressing feelings of some sort, feelingly.

It was after-party make-out music for the hip young set, and we mean that in a good way.  Scenesters should appreciate the sly wink of their name and the party connotations.  A dark air conditioned room packed with friends seemed the perfect location to hear them. 

R said, "A girl I knew a while back would have bought their T-shirt."  He thought for a bit, then added, "Come to think of it, I might buy their T-shirt."

Pure X don't play N's genre of choice by any means, but they held his attention by being laid-back and musically interesting.  They didn't force an atmosphere on the venue, as some bands try to do; they just sat and played and let the music create it.  He appreciated what they were doing, even if it wasn't for him.

In sum: Mood-evoking lo-fi indie rock with sombre and earnest (if largely unintelligible) lyrics.  Instruments warped with modulators, vocals echoing.  Drenched in effects. But in a way that worked (Spookeasy could learn a lot from these guys).  People who dig the Cure-influenced ethereal stuff will appreciate Pure X.

26. Sunset at the Granada, 7/23/11

26. Sunset, at the Granada.

So, on Saturday (Day Fifty-Eight) we went to what was possibly Dallas' most hyped summer musical event: Gorilla Vs. Bear Festival.  Of course, it started at six p.m., so we thought it should more accurately be referred to as a "showcase" rather than a "festival" (which word conjures up visions of an all-day, multi-stage event), but what the hell, right?  Tickets were $30.  It was hosted by that local paragon of excellence, the Granada Theater.

We've talked about how much we enjoy this venue before, but it bears repeating.  The first thing that hit us as we walked into the 300-plus-strong crowd was how wonderfully cool it was.  They had installed a much more powerful A/C system, and management was rightly proud of it.  Some patrons were complaining that it was "chilly," but those people had apparently forgotten that it was seven hundred degrees outside and that crowded rooms get hot and stuffy quickly.  We were very appreciative of the temp. As usual the sound was loud, clear, and well-balanced; the staff, from the door guys to the bartenders, were uniformly friendly even as the lines started to form; and the food was good and cheap.  Lots of bar options, lots of bar staff.  People who like to host music fests: this is how to do it right.

So yeah, Sunset.  The band.  Originally from Austin, apparently, a trio of young fellows with two male vocals.  Loud power pop mixed with garage indie rock.  At least one of them seemed to be at home playing more than one instrument: they started with guitar, drum, and keyboard, but there were a few songs where the keys were ditched for bass, and someone also played the organ.

Next on the bill: Twilight.

A brief but energetic set included some very interesting noises: guitar shrieking, bass roaring, a drone suddenly punctuated by a rhythmic drumbeat.  The music was raucous, but like smooth jazz, there was a subtle and intriguing interplay between instruments that showed serious craft behind the rock.

All three of the guys were energetic and clearly were enjoying their time onstage.  R loved the drummer, commenting that he reminded him of Animal from The Muppets.
The band finished its last song and called out rather cryptically, "We used to be called Sunset!"

In sum: Crunchy and sloppy-sounding indie rock, but made by thoughtful, talented youths.  Music for the kids, driving around in mom's car on a hot night, drinking dad's beer, wishing they had a girl but not really minding because the music flows through their veins like a confidence drug.  We dug it.  As R tweeted, if they used to be called Sunset, we used to like a band called Sunset.