Sunday July 18th, 2010

From the rolling, weathered prairies of Nebraska comes THE KILLIGANS, a whiskey-driven powerhouse of working-class passion and barn-bursting energy that has been winning new fans and admirers with every single show. The year 2007 brings their sophomore album, One Step Ahead of Hell, a new collection of audience-approved sing-along anthems that’s sure to expand their legions of followers from sea to shining sea.

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The Killigans have existed in various incarnations since their inception in 2004, but as their rabid fans will testify, they have never failed to ignite the passions of anyone who wanders close enough to hear their foot-stomping, glass-raising anthems for tenacious underdogs, lonely vagabonds, and anyone who’s just trying to make it in this world. Their rapidly-growing body of work draws from the most enduring, vibrant aspects of American music – the storytelling of folk, the fighting spirit of punk rock, the heartfelt poignancy of country and the unforgiving grit of rock ‘n roll.

The Killigans are celebrated like kings in their hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska, but thanks to the magic of the internet, they have accrued an enthusiastic fan base in many parts of their own country as well as New Zealand, Australia, Asia and Europe. Their full-length debut, 2006’s Brown Bottle Hymnal, has received heavy rotation on local radio as well as internet-based radio programs such as Paddyrock.com, and has been a popular favorite on Interpunk.com, a major online retailer of independent music. Plans for more widespread touring and promotion are in progress. One thing’s for sure – Like old-fashioned courage in spite of overwhelming odds, they’re not disappearing anytime soon.

poster designed by Jeremy McFarren

Wednesday July 21st, 2010
Vic Ruggiero (of The Slackers of New York City)
Chris Murray (Los Angeles, CA)
The Forthrights (Brooklyn, NY)
Broadway Shottas
9PM
$5

Biography by Jason Ankeny

One of the most notable bands to emerge out of the New York City ska revival scene of the 1990s, the Slackers is comprised of vocalist Marq Lyn, vocalist/keyboardist Vic Ruggerio, guitarist T.J. Scanlon, bassist Marcus Geard, saxophonist David Hillyard, trumpeter Jeremy Mushlin, trombonist Glen Pine, and drummer Luis Zuluaga. After beginning their career in 1991 playing rocksteady and ska in the 2-Tone vein, the Slackers moved toward a more traditional style, even adding a horn section in 1994. They issued their debut LP, Better Late Than Never, in 1996, followed a year later by Redlight. The group resurfaced in 1998 with The Question; Live at Ernesto’s appeared two years later; Wasted Days, which featured a cover of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive,” surfaced in early 2001. Two years later, the Slackers released Close My Eyes, the band’s harsh reaction to the events of 9/11 and a reflection of what followed. With that and the band’s own personal responsibilities to their families, Close My Eyes highlighted a more mature approach from the Slackers. The International War Criminal EP and the Japan-only Slack in Japan preceded the 2006 release of Peculiar.

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Chris Murray is a unique force on today’s music scene. As leader of influential Canadian ska group King Apparatus, Chris earned a strong reputation as a dynamic performer and gifted songwriter. Upon the band’s breakup, he relocated to Los Angeles, emerging as a solo artist with his debut album The 4-Track Adventures Of Venice Shoreline Chris. This charmingly lo-fi collection of home recordings won high praise for its finely crafted tunes and the raw sincerity of its vintage production.

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In addition to his busy schedule of live appearances throughout North America, Japan, Europe and South America, Chris finds time for a remarkable array of collaborative efforts. Chris has co-written with and produced albums for Montreal’s Planet Smashers and eclectic NYC supergroup Da Whole Thing. His writing credits have also appeared on releases by Hepcat, The Slackers, Westbound Train, and Neville Staple of The Specials. Most recently, his classic song We Do The Ska was covered by highly popular UK group The King Blues.

Life has led Chris down a musical path to the very roots of reggae music. From trading songs on acoustic guitar with boogie-ska pioneer Laurel Aitken and singing with Caribbean bandleader Carlos Malcolm & His Afro-Jamaican Rhythms, to jamming with The Specials in a basement club and recording with Jamaica’s original drums and bass masters, Lloyd Knibb and Lloyd Brevett, Chris has served his apprenticeship with the finest musicians connected with the genre. Chris backed Prince Buster on harmonica for a rare US live appearance at the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival in 2003.

Chris has hosted Bluebeat Lounge at Hollywood’s Knitting Factory for the past seven years. The weekly concert series, focusing on reggae and ska, has showcased a diverse range of top quality music and served as home base for the thriving Los Angeles scene.

Monday July 20th, 2010

About The Coathangers
It all began in that dimly lit back alley in the summer of 2006. It was there that four ladies of leisure, bound by circumstance, joined forces to disorganize rock and/or roll. Forged from the blood of aborted fetuses and risen from the ashes of blunt roaches… Coathangers will devour your immortal soul. Who’s in? You?? If you said no, fuck your dad… your mom’s alright.

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Click here to view the embedded video.

Friday July 23rd, 2010

About Scott H. Biram
Rock ‘n’ Roll ain’t pretty and neither is Scott H. Biram. The self proclaimed ‘Dirty Old One Man Band’ successfully, and sometimes violently, lashes together blues, hillbilly and country precariously to raucous punk and godless metal. ??Biram ain’t no dour ass singer/songwriter either, sweetly strumming songs about girls with big eyes and dusty highways. HELL NO!!! His singing, yodeling, growling, leering and brash preachin’ and hollerin’ is accompanied by sloppy riffs and licks from his 1959 Gibson guitar and pounding backbeat brought forth by his amplified left foot. The remainder of this one-man band consists of an unwieldy combination of beat-up amplifiers and old microphones strung together by a tangled mess of guitar cables.??

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Years of non-stop touring have honed his assault to a fine edge; his wide-eyed throw downs in the First Church of Ultimate Fanaticism routinely lead giddy followers to a fiery baptism.??Scott H. Biram wont die. On May 11th, 2003, one month after being hit head-on by an 18-wheeler at 75 MPH, he took the stage at The Continental Club in Austin, TX in a wheel chair – I.V. still dangling from his arm. With 2 broken legs, a broken foot, a broken arm and 1 foot less of his lower intestine, Biram unleashed his trademark musical wrath.??When Scott H. Biram took the stage at his 2004 SXSW festival showcase right after Kris Kristofferson he was quoted as growling “They said that was a hard act to follow….I’m a hard act to follow motherfuckers!!” The stunned crowd looked on.?

About Los Duggans
“Is it possible to take American roots music (country blues, folk, union organizing songs) and add a contemporary rock element for an evolutionary punch, yet still remain true to the original intent and intense passions? The answer was no until the formation of L.A.s own Los Duggans…”

- Robert Larson, KUCI

“a Captain Beefheart-style neutron barn dance” – LA CITY BEAT

Have your lighters ready alongside your raised fists. Los Duggans is the fiercest quartet this side of the Mississippi. They first came of notice at the Sundance film festival, where they accompanied the controversial live performance “Proving Ground.” A piece that Village Voice called “one of the only Sundance products that wasn’t for sale.”

This is music aimed squarely at your belly. Mixing genres like a marinade, they play their own brand of Appalachian/ metal/ blues/ punk…distorted guitars raging with banjo, gut bucket beating along with a modern drum kit. Los Duggans have opened for such greats as Bob Log III, Joe Buck Yourself, Unknown Hinson, and John Doe.

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Saturday June 19th, 2010

The musicians in question are Kelley Darlin, the group’s bassist, Jessi Darlin, who plays guitar, and Nikki Darlin, on baritone ukulele.  Everyone sings. Everyone writes.
Kelley, who hails from South Carolina and started playing music at an early age, founded the Southern Girls Rock & Roll Camp in Murfreesboro, after volunteering at the original GRRC in Portland, Oregon. Jessi, a Kentucky girl whose parents were artists and fostered her musical aspirations, was one of the original participants in SGRRC and met Kelley there.  Eventually, they hooked up with Virginia native Nikki, whose father played classic rock in bands, frequently covering material such as Jerry Irby’s honky-tonk classic “Drivin’ Nails in My Coffin.”

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Since then, Those Darlins have been engaged in the time-honored practice of extensive touring, rock ‘n’ roll-style. 2008 saw them perform with Boss Hog, Ida Maria, O’Death, Deer Tick and Heartless Bastards, and 2009 got under way with a headlining tour that garnished a New York Times Pick, a Boston Globe “Band to Break in ’09″ nod, and coverage in Bust and American Songwriter. Most recently, they accompanied garage-blues conceptualist Dan Auerbach (The Black Keys) a nationwide ten-city jaunt, capping off the trip with an explosive buzz-band debut at South by Southwest.

They’ve charmed audiences all over the country and, in return, have gotten the kind of press befitting a powerhouse phenomenon.  Pitchfork’s, Amy Granzin praised their “nimble rockabilly swing.”  Writing about one of the Darlins’ seven raucous, confident performances at SxSW, Billboard’s Bill Werde dubbed them “Best Band I Didn’t Really Know Before I Got to SXSW,” and went on to describe them as “Patsy Cline for the punk era,” and in the New York Times, veteran journalist David Carr reported, “In a world of emo-boys and reluctant band leaders, Those Darlins, country-punk pals from Murfreesboro, Tenn., had a comically leering sexuality and the kind of abandon that seems scarce these days.” Paste and USA Today, among others, listed the Darlins among their favorites of the entire festival.
Whether or not they’re the embodiment of Patsy Cline, or the latest in a series of rockabilly acolytes intent on reinventing rock ‘n’ roll, they’re absolutely not reluctant on any level.  With their ease on stage, they’re in charge all the way.  In the studio, they’ve come up with the kind of debut that marks territory and jumps the fence of mere genre.

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When it comes to their music, what results from Those Darlins’ combination of unique influences—they mention everything from The Black Lips to Ernest Tubb to Tav Falco as touchstones—is a flair for concise, unforgettable pop tunes and a completely non-doctrinaire take on the more deadpan aspects of hickdom. The Darlins have a genius for catchy titles, and are expertly lay out their ethos in lyrics, reminding the listener that these women are tough, sexy and vulnerable.  As New Yorker pop critic Sasha Frere-Jones notes, they deftly balance sweetness and grit… and there most definitely are strings attached. Those Darlins are rock ‘n’ roll at two-and-a-half minutes, minimalists to be reckoned with.

The band makes a good joke out of rural isolation and provincial idiocy in a way that goes well beyond ironic – proof the ladies can’t be pegged as indie. But what makes their songs exceptionally compelling is the reality principle to which Those Darlins adhere: Nikki and Jessi spent portions of their childhoods in places without electricity or plumbing, and the Flatwood Mall they write about in “Snaggletooth Mama” is a real place.  Those Darlins don’t romanticize poverty or rural life; they understand it.

Those Darlins incorporates everything that has made the quartet (the trio, plus drummer Linwood Regensberg, otherwise known as “Sheriff Lin”) a fresh force.  “Red Light Love,” the first single, is about not losing the simplest joys of being in love, complete with distorted guitars and a classic rockin’ bass line.  Their version of A.P. Carter’s “Cannonball Blues” throws in backwards guitars straight out of the Beatles’ blue period, while “DUI or Die” is as catchy as Nick Lowe tune: “Better find a boy to take you home for the night,” they alternatively suggest to female drinkers everywhere.

The forthcoming album is grounded in the old-time country they started out emulating, but its public face is pop with interludes, psychedelic guitars, and sly tales of triumph. And their live show is part grit, part glamour.  They’re aware of image and flash, of the need for speed and good-humored insurgency.  In that regard, they’re more Stiff Records than Carter Family, more pop experimentalists than google-eyed revivalists.

Like their punk predecessors, Those Darlins are partly about screwing around with established forms.  This doesn’t make them a girl band—a term to which they seem resigned, but don’t especially embrace.  For all that, they’re post-punk in the sense that they come from families that slightly subverted the idea of the American nuclear family.  Their music—and their presentation—might not be explicitly feminist, but Those Darlins pay tribute to what Kelley calls “the really strong women in our lives.”  Nikki gets typically to the point when she says, “There are fucking tons of dude bands out there and they’re not described as an all-male band.”  Spoken like a true rock ‘n’ roller. — EDD HURT

Wednesday July 14th, 2010

With their savage follicles and beer-soaked, bruised take on punk, Nashville’s JEFF The Brotherhood seem like the type of boys that would steal both your whiskey and your sister’s virtue, and still earn a standing invitation to play your basement. But this might be an unfair assumption, because 23-year-old guitarist/singer Jake Orrall and his 21-year-old brother/drummer Jamin have been hardworking family businessmen for the better part of the decade. Both Orralls did time in dearly-missed Nashville sensations Be Your Own Pet (Jake left before the first album was released and Jamin before the second; everyone’s still cool though). But JEFF has been their main passion; they had already recorded several (currently unavailable) albums before the release of their most recent collection/national debut Heavy Days, which is available via the family label, Infinity Cat. -village voice (Dec 4, 2009)

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If we had to pick a band that was emblematic of the year’s triumphs (and, say, put them on our cover), it would be JEFF the Brotherhood. After years of tirelessly playing shows around Nashville wherever—club, basement, crawl space—and whenever, the sibling power duo made good on all the promise they’ve shown, releasing one of the year’s best local albums, touring alongside underground legends like Shonen Knife and Ted Leo, and bringing the noise to a growing national fan base. -Nashville Scene, Dec 8, 2009.

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Tonight – doors at 9PM

opener at 10PM

Tallest Man on Earth @ 11PM

SOLD OUT – ticket holders and presale will calls only

Thursday May 27th, 2010

Tallest Man on Earth (Sweden)

Nathaniel Rateliff

10pm

$10 tickets

Pitchfork Album Review
The Wild Hunt
The Tallest Man on Earth
[Dead Oceans; 2010]
8.5

Pesky comparisons to Bob Dylan have dogged Kristian Matsson throughout his short career as the Tallest Man on Earth. In 2006, his self-titled EP introduced a singer with that familiar croak, a songwriter with a folk-revival revival sensibility, and a guitar player with an impressively agile fingerpicking style. The next year, his full-length debut, Shallow Grave, expanded nicely on those ideas, buffing away some of the rougher edges but emphasizing fully realized and beautifully evocative songs. The Wild Hunt, the second Tallest Man on Earth album and first for Dead Oceans, makes a few specific nods to Dylan at his most earnest and bare– including a reference to “boots of Spanish leather” on “King of Spain”. Ultimately, though, Matsson interprets Dylan, just as Dylan himself interpreted Guthrie. More to the point, Matsson translates him into the Scandinavian countryside, where he sings about changing seasons and quiet, lonely places far from cities. His lyrics are rough and often ragged, more concerned with evoking aching emotions than with making explicit sense. But that coded aspect only makes him sound more urgent, as if he’s trying to convince you of something he couldn’t possibly put into words.

As with previous albums, The Wild Hunt features mainly voice and guitar, and in this intimate, austere setting– where the banjo on the title track sounds like an indulgence– Matsson coaxes a wide range of colors from that limited palette, whether it’s the testiness of “You’re Going Back” or the exuberance of “King of Spain”. His grounding in American Southern traditions is apparent: While not a blues musician per se, Matsson draws important lessons from the likes of Mississippi John Hurt and Bukka White by realizing that his guitar speaks as loudly and as clearly as he does.

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His playing is sophisticated but never showy, alternating between spry picking and forceful strumming. Whether due to his tunings or his crisp production, there’s something bright and expectant about his songs, so that even at his most forlorn, as on “Love Is All” or “The Drying of the Law ns”, Matsson’s heraldic guitar playing generates a certain major-key hopefulness that softly shades the songs. When he switches to an old and battered piano on the teen anthem “Kids on the Run”, the effect is not diminished but amplified, as the instrument reverberates uneasily. It’s an unexpected moment that colors everything that came before it and paints Matsson as a distinctive and singular artist.

As a singer, he has become much more confident and capable, using that wily, deceptively limited croak with greater nuance and subtlety. The hiccup hook on “Love Is All” sounds like a joyful noise despite the song’s tentative tone, and the rawness of his vocals lends gravity to the accusations of “You’re Going Back”. On the other hand, Matsson sounds warmly generous on “Troubles Will Be Gone” when he sings, “The day is never done, still there’s a light on where you sleep, so I hope someday your troubles will be gone.” Matsson is both a romantic and a realist, and on The Wild Hunt, he uses the barest of pop-folk settings to give mundane moments– another break-up, another tour, another change of season, another Dylan comparison– a grandeur so disproportional that it’s difficult not to identify and sympathize with him.

Nathaniel Rateliff Conjures The Ghost Of Johnny Cash On “You Should Have Seen The Other Guy”

Debut Album ‘In Memory Of Loss’ Out May 4 On Rounder Records

In a recent review Vanity Fair said Nathaniel Rateliff’s voice is “fit only for a silent cathedral” though on the album cut “You Should Have Seen The Other Guy” a rowdy barroom is the setting. The drunken tale is one of the most lyrically powerful tracks on Nathaniel Rateliff’s debut album ‘In Memory of Loss,’ (May 4) a collection of world-weary songs chronicling the life of the Denver-by-way-of-Missouri songwriter.

“You Should Have Seen The Other Guy” is a true story about Nathaniel’s great-grandfather who was a bootlegger and froze to death drinking his own whiskey. On the song Rateliff’s deep, resonant Johnny-Cash-like-baritone layers over finger plucked guitar strings and a mournful harmonica.

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Friday May 28th, 2010

Chainsmoking Records Presents:

Harley Poe

The End Times Spasm Band

Poopdeflex

10PM

$5

Harley Poe loves you all in the most perverse way possible, so please love us too. Some of you may know that Harley Poe initially began as a side project of another well-established act and has since become the evil twin of that band. Forgive us. We enjoy the grotesque and monstrous, and we, as a band, celebrate those elements to the extreme. So, open your ears, squint your eyes, and lower your expectations. If you subscribe to the fantastic, if ketchup and pig intestines turn you on, if trashy movies get you wet, then you’ve found your heroes. Welcome to us.

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“…it’s the effortless lyrical and musical wit that keeps the band from becoming just a novelty act. Filled with plucky narrative songwriting and heartbreaking characters, the band’s period-style originals are both authentic and fresh.” – Emma Downs, The Journal Gazette

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i never ment to play the guitar. in fact i made it a point not to. all you artsy fartsy chord strummin musicans coveren stones rolled in the direction of pussy make me kringe every time i tell someone i play guitar. but that all changed the i heard two men, R.L. Burnside and Fred McDowell. those motherfuckers can play and they don;t even know scales. as soon as i heard them, i knew i had to try and play that shit. so i sat down in my basement, borrowed an old acoustic, put on some mcdowell and went to try to playin like him. eventually i stumbled on a tuning that sounded good, the only catch was that the way i tuned the goddamn high string kept breakin. after about 5 sets of strings and enough money to buy drugs, i said fuck it, that strings too high and pussy, and what the fuck is a 5 fingered man playin with 6 strings. so off she came. from there i began to play every day, havin no clue what i was doing, i was just tryin to make it sound good, not think about chords or changes or theories, but find my ignorance as to just play what i felt, skip the middle man of thought. once i gained some buttons i knew sounded good, i got together with some buddies and formed a dark delta country blues band called Red Barrels. that was some fun shit. but down the road we had some disagreements about the direction, and called it quits. besides that i always felt weird standin up to play. skip ahead a few months and i sittin at the practice space writin songs when i look down and i see both my feet tapin in rhythum. well i thought about it and dug around the spare parts and finally put together a bass drum for my right foot and a snare for my left. now it was terrible at first, but it felt good, addiction good. i couldn’t stop, every spare second i had i would bang shit out. once i had the music the only problem was i couldn’t sing. and still to this day i don’t know how i learned, but i did. in the end there are three basic reasons why i am a one man band: 1) people suck 2) it gives me a reason to sit down and 3) people suck.

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Monday June 28th, 2010

10PM
$4

Chicago’s premiere garage and nouveau psychedelic punk rock label, HoZac Records, has finally unleashed…the debut full-length from Austin, Texas’ Woven Bones…Over in under a half-hour, In and Out and Back Again lurches inexorably forward, chewing up and spitting out anything that gets in its way. The album’s cavernous, live feel makes listening to it a bit like standing at the back of a thunderous rock club without ear plugs, praying that your cochleas will survive. Frontman Andrew Burr, a recent Florida-to-Texas transplant, doesn’t so much sing his lyrics as let them trail from his lips in a wounded, grungy syrup that at times rises into a piercing hiccup. The solid rhythm section of Matty on bass and Carolyn on drums keeps it all tied together in an ominous and fuzzy package, providing the perfect backdrop for Burr’s occasional apocalyptic guitar passages.  -L.A. Times Music Blog

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Saturday June 5th 2010

Kantis

I, Wombat

Pliers

10PM

$5