Pelican, Pale Young Gentlemen and Sleeping In The Aviary at High Noon Saloon, and JJ Grey And Mofro at Majestic Theatre
Sleeping In The Aviary (artist's impression).
Pelican at High Noon Saloon
The High Noon's house speakers were playing Baroness' Red Album as the opening bands finished setting up for Friday night's Pelican show. Of course, Baroness (a great Georgia band that came up alongside the likes of Mastodon) wasn't on the bill, but sometimes the house music is a really good sign of what's to come: in this instance, forceful, complex rock with a lot of volume and just as much grace.
The High Noon's house speakers were playing Baroness' Red Album as the opening bands finished setting up for Friday night's Pelican show. Of course, Baroness (a great Georgia band that came up alongside the likes of Mastodon) wasn't on the bill, but sometimes the house music is a really good sign of what's to come: in this instance, forceful, complex rock with a lot of volume and just as much grace.
The show kicked off on a different track. Chicago's Head Of Skulls! opened with a set of pretty straight-ahead post-punk, but the trio was tight and angsty enough to get the crowd's energy going. Next, Suicide Note set up like an old-school hardcore band: Singer Casey Donely brandished his mic without a stand, flinging and flopping himself around during the band's rageaholic tunes.
Naturally, the mood changed as Pelican started getting its equipment up on stage. Once the guitars were tuned and the fog machine had spewed out a little mist, a gentle droning note came over the speakers. As the four-piece instrumental group got started, it wasn't too smart to be up by the stage without earplugs. Then again, when a band's this loud and handles it with such skill, it might be worth the lost brain cells. Over at stage right, it was a treat to watch guitarist Trevor de Brauw play his scuffed-up Gibson SG. De Brauw and fellow guitarist Laurent Schroeder-Lebec didn't fiddle too much with the effects pedals at their feet, instead weaving that immense gale of sound together with subtle and resourceful interplay. Except for a brief passage in which de Brauw ran a violin bow over his E-strings, the whole night was all about honest fretwork, locked in with the steady growl and fierce eruptions of bassist Bryan Herweg and drummer Larry Herweg.
The band was just as tight when it came time to scale back the heaviness. De Brauw's guitar sounded weary and almost shy as he slid into the quiet intro of "City Of Echoes." A good strong crowd pushed up to the stage and nodded along gratefully, entranced by Pelican's might but never bored with it. The set flowed through three albums' worth of sludge and subtlety, lumbering to a no-encore-needed finish.
Pale Young Gentlemen, Amo Joy!, and Sleeping In The Aviary at High Noon
The High Noon's tour-ending party for local bands Pale Young Gentlemen and Sleeping In The Aviary drew an unexpectedly large crowd Saturday. A line stretched out the door even as Sleeping In The Aviary kicked off the early show, the two folks behind the main bar looked pretty swamped with orders, and things stayed cozy and packed throughout. Not only that, but the crowd was diverse, from supportive local musicians to dozens of young and old faces that don't always show up at rock shows, at least not in these combinations. Can Madison be like this every weekend, please? (Decider also spoke with both bands before the show; check back tomorrow for the interview.)
The High Noon's tour-ending party for local bands Pale Young Gentlemen and Sleeping In The Aviary drew an unexpectedly large crowd Saturday. A line stretched out the door even as Sleeping In The Aviary kicked off the early show, the two folks behind the main bar looked pretty swamped with orders, and things stayed cozy and packed throughout. Not only that, but the crowd was diverse, from supportive local musicians to dozens of young and old faces that don't always show up at rock shows, at least not in these combinations. Can Madison be like this every weekend, please? (Decider also spoke with both bands before the show; check back tomorrow for the interview.)
SITA opened with the kind of raggedy-hyper set they've been playing all year, only more so. Elliott Kozel smacked out frantic chords and feedback from his acoustic-electric guitar, yelping out recent standards like "Write On" and "Gas Mask Blues" while a necktie hung off his guitar strap. Saw and accordion player Celeste Heule’s choice of attire—a raccoon hat—only contributed to the feeling that the road didn't wear down the band's peculiar spirit of fun jackassery. Still, SITA had a short set time—what with three bands crammed in between 5:30 and 8 p.m.—so Kozel took a tour of destruction around the stage as he finished up, knocking over three vocal mics and climbing up on the big monitor next to drummer Michael Sienkowski.
The locals gave the middle slot to some new out-of-town friends, Indianapolis band Amo Joy!. Just as odd and playful as SITA, Amo Joy! gave off a more innocent and childlike vibe. It probably had something to do with all the kazoos that popped up during the set, and the plastic dollar-store noisemakers the group handed out to the audience. Backed up with synth, melodica, and glockenspiel, among other things, guitarist Adam Gross sang friendly power-pop songs about dinosaurs and, in his words, "sidewalks taking over the world."
Pale Young Gentlemen looked pretty relieved to be home, and certainly sounded that way when they began their set with "Goldenface, Morninglight," from this year's Black Forest (tra la la). Leader Mike Reisenauer strummed out the song's softly glowing chords on an electric guitar, his voice a little hoarse but not beaten, gently beckoning the audience into the set. The Gents focused on Black Forest highlights, including "The Crook Of My Good Arm" and "There Is A Place," but finished it up with a couple of local favorites from their first, self-titled album. They deserve credit for venturing into something different, but nothing said "we're back!" like the drunken swoon of "Saturday Night."
JJ Grey And Mofro at Majestic Theatre
If Floridians JJ Grey And Mofro have wrangled a joyfully messy brew of funky gospel-soul-swamp-blues over the course of four albums, Sunday night's show at the Majestic took a less ambitious approach to the band's sound. Mofro's set kept a good part of the crowd contentedly grooving and swaying up in front of the stage, which is half the battle at a show like this. Appropriately, the setlist mixed up the band's earlier, more unruly numbers with brighter, tighter tunes from their last two albums, Country Ghetto and Orange Blossoms. "Ho Cake," Grey's hollered tribute to Southern food on 2001's Blackwater sounded like it might have been recorded as the band raided some cramped, steamy kitchen. Here, it turned cool and smooth, bouncy organ solo and all: Grey looked like he was having a good time, but he didn't belt out his verses about lima beans and pork chops with the same tummy-rumbling abandon.
If Floridians JJ Grey And Mofro have wrangled a joyfully messy brew of funky gospel-soul-swamp-blues over the course of four albums, Sunday night's show at the Majestic took a less ambitious approach to the band's sound. Mofro's set kept a good part of the crowd contentedly grooving and swaying up in front of the stage, which is half the battle at a show like this. Appropriately, the setlist mixed up the band's earlier, more unruly numbers with brighter, tighter tunes from their last two albums, Country Ghetto and Orange Blossoms. "Ho Cake," Grey's hollered tribute to Southern food on 2001's Blackwater sounded like it might have been recorded as the band raided some cramped, steamy kitchen. Here, it turned cool and smooth, bouncy organ solo and all: Grey looked like he was having a good time, but he didn't belt out his verses about lima beans and pork chops with the same tummy-rumbling abandon.
Newer tunes like "Ybor City" and "Everything Good Is Bad" met the older stuff halfway, getting a little looser and taking some punch out of the choruses. Most tunes stayed in this pleasant middle: enough coming from your average jam band, a little flat coming from a group that's shown off more dimension in the past.
Not that the six-member band didn't put in a lot of work or capture some real mood. Grey began "Lochloosa" all sweet and somber behind his keyboard, a badass instrument that looked like some piece of wooden-legged heirloom furniture. After building up the song with a little extra help from his harmonica, he got up, grabbed a guitar from his roadie, and played a solo that lead to a rousing chorus about Florida's threatened ecology. Trumpet player Dennis Marion and sax player Art Edmaiston made for a subtle horn section, putting openers Trombone Shorty And Orleans Avenue's horn-blurting set to shame. Adam Scone held down a saucy Hammond organ with his right hand and played all the band's bass parts with his left. Guitarist Daryl Hance sat droopy-eyed the whole time, as if he might keel over at any moment. (To be fair, Hance looks like that in just about every photo we could find online.)
It all swung together nicely on the breezy yet gritty "Air," and bristled a bit on "Country Ghetto," in which Grey lays down his Southerner's code: "You can say what you will about your helping hand / I know I'll never be more than just your dumb white trash." Much like the couple of blues covers the band played as a tribute to Muddy Waters ("Got My Mojo Working," "Hoochie Coochie Man"), it caught onto a nice groove and and earnest spirit. Still, as the night's many guitar, horn, harmonica, and keyboard solos stretched on, the interplay started to feel more professional than spontaneous.
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