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Top Five Five Songs I LoveBy George Winston IMAGE: Joe del Tufo “Hey Now Baby” “Break on Through (to the Other Side)” “Isoka Labaleka” “Happy New Year” “Peaches En Regalia” SEE IT: George Winston plays the Aladdin Theater on Friday, Sept. 3. 8 pm. $25 advance, $28 day of show. All ages (minors must be accompanied by parent). Strength Friday, Sept. 3Mind-reading trio foretold Portland’s dance future.
[DIRTY DANCING] Anyone who has ever heard the slinky, aggressive confidence of one of Strength’s “love jams,” or caught the Portland synth-disco trio at one of its too few and far between local shows, would expect its members to be cocksure, strutting sex gods. But the three humble, soft-spoken gentlemen (seriously, at times they were barely audible) I met last week barely seemed like they could be in your high school’s jazz band, let alone be some of Portland’s sexiest late-night soundtrack-makers. “[The band] is like a release,” says singer Bailey Winters, acknowledging his relatively timid “real-life” demeanor. “We’re not crazy. And we’re not drinking heavily and then going up onstage and then drinking some more, which a lot of bands do…. We’re the band who’s always saying, ‘Where are we sleeping tonight? We brought our sleeping bags. If we could just have this room, that would be cool.’” “We don’t party that much,” agrees guitarist/drum-programmer Patrick Morris. “But you can take really fun music seriously, and I think we do. Probably too seriously.” But don’t let that sort of quiet professionalism confuse you: The guys from Strength can create a raucous party anywhere with their indulgent, beat-driven anthems. Morris, Winters and keyboardist Johnny Zeigler met as students at California Institute of the Arts and initially formed a more straight-ahead rock band. But after witnessing the crowd reaction to the dance music that followed their performances at college parties, they switched tactics. “When the band finished, everyone would stop staring…and a DJ would put on tapes and then the party was fun,” Winters remembers. “So we were like, ‘We should be that tape of Madonna instead of the rock band that just went on.’” The band moved to Portland seven years ago, and then, inspired by Nile Rodgers’ productions, electronic dance music and Quincy Jones-era Michael Jackson, it released its 2006 debut, Going Strong, a collection that introduced our town to Strength’s hip-shaking, lip-smacking, swaggering disco pop (which comes replete with Winters’ pleading, Mick Jagger-esque vocals). But acoustic folk-rock acts dominated Portland’s music scene and Strength was alien among them, urging earnest rockers onto dance floors. “When we first started, people were surprised by the backing track, by the electronic music,” says Morris. “And now everybody has electronic backup tracks. Well, not everyone, but it’s so common that you can go into a club and say, ‘So, we’ve got a computer.’ And [sound guys are] like, ‘We’ve got you covered.’” It’s been four years since Strength last released a record, and a lot has changed in its adopted hometown. Acts from Deelay Ceelay to Copy have made sweaty dance parties de rigueur at rock clubs. And Strength’s long-awaited sophomore effort, Mind-Reader—a darker, more ghostly take on its heavy-breathing aesthetic—is finally ready to get parties started again. The perfectionist band may work slowly, but the results are definitely worth the wait. “I think maybe more things could happen for Strength if we operated differently,” says Winters thoughtfully. “I just think we’re going as fast as we can.” SEE IT: Strength plays Holocene on Friday, Sept. 3, with Fake Drugs, DJ Copy and DJ Patricia Furpurse. 9 pm. $5. 21+. Ed Bennett Friday, Sept. 3Mel Brown’s bassist takes the reins for his first record in over a decade.
[JAZZ] Ask Portland bassist Ed Bennett about his songwriting inspirations, and there’s something funny about his response. “Horace Silver—the way he writes, he makes instant arrangements in the tunes themselves,” Bennett says. “Also, Bill Evans, Miles [Davis]—if you looked at my record collection, I have the most of those artists.” None of those, you might notice, are bass players. “I do have bass players’ albums,” Bennett laughs. “But the way I approach the bass, as far as rhythm accompaniment for other soloists, I try and make them shine. And when it comes to the bass solo, I think more like a horn player…so I have a lot of transcripts of solos from Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins—all kinds of horn players and piano players.” It makes sense, then, that En Route, 58-year-old Bennett’s fifth effort as a bandleader, opens with a blast of brass. Saxophonist Scott Hall and trumpeter Paul Mazzio start “Blues For KG” on the same melodic page, then take the disc’s first two solos. The tune is as hip and downtown as its name would suggest, though, and like many of Bennett’s original tunes, its arrangements would feel as appropriate in a big-band setting as they do with Bennett’s small ensemble. The tune swings, but all the players are swinging together—which makes each soloist sound more daring and wild when they step out on their own. Though Bennett says his titles are often chosen on impulse, En Route is a fitting one for this new disc. From the bittersweet, Latin-tinged “Solari” to the bop-era title track and the bossanova interplay between drummer Todd Strait and pianist Dan Gaynor on “Suavemente Ahora,” there’s a movement in these tracks that persuades the listener to imagine Bennett—who penned all of En Route’s tracks himself, with the exception of the standard “For Heaven’s Sake”—as an exotic tour guide. Only, between weekly gigs with Mel Brown and a busy family life (he has two sons—neither of whom are big jazz fans, he says), Bennett doesn’t get out of town a lot these days. His heavy touring days mostly came in the ’70s, including a stint with famed singer Carmen McRae (who sharpened him as a musician, Bennett says. “If she didn’t think she was getting what she needed onstage, she would let you know right there.”). These days, Bennett is easier to track down: Stop by Jimmy Mak’s on a Wednesday night—among other weekly gigs—and you’ll find him there, clutching his un-amplified bass with his eyes closed tight and plugging soulfully away—even if it’s a horn player’s soul he’s playing with. GO: Ed Bennett and his quintet release En Route on Friday, Sept. 3, at Jimmy Mak’s. 8 pm. $10. Minors welcome for first set, second set is 21+. Primer: Slayer IMAGE: Mark Seliger Formed: 1981 in Huntington Park, Calif. Members: Tom Araya, Kerry King, Jeff Hanneman, Dave Lombardo Latest release: World Painted Blood, released in late 2009, finds Rick Rubin back as executive producer, Dave Lombardo on the drum throne and songs that balance hardcore and melodic song structures. Why you care: Face it: Metallica let us down, Dave Mustaine is a crybaby, and Anthrax was never good to start with. As long as Dave Lombardo is playing drums in Slayer, one of the “big four” thrash giants is going to be playing the fastest, heaviest classic metal music out there. Sure, death metal and black metal can be speedier, “colder” or more contemporary. But Slayer created the blueprint for pretty much all of it with 1986 genre classic, Reign in Blood. Fourteen years later, that album might not seem to be the blitzkrieg of violent noise that it did upon release, but it still retains all of its power and excellence. And though the guys in Slayer are pushing 50, they can still bring it live. Don’t expect that to last forever, though. There’s only so much punishment, screaming, and blasting anyone can put out (Lemmy of Motörhead being a soul-selling exception). It’s also been over 15 years since Slayer last did North American dates with Megadeth. So finish carving Slayer on your arm and put on some fresh bandages, because HELL AWAITS! Sounds like: Blood raining from a lacerated sky. For fans of: Venom, Judas Priest, skateboards, horror movies, church burning, Stella Artois, crank, monster trucks, neck injuries, mosh pits—and motherfuckin’ Slayer! SEE IT: Slayer plays Saturday, Sept. 4, at Washington County Fairplex, with Megadeth and Testament. Seats are $39.50 advance or $45 at the door. 6 pm (4:30 doors). All ages. CD Reviews: The Estranged, Autistic YouthThe Estranged
The Subliminal Man (Dirtnap)
Autistic Youth
Idle Minds (Dirtnap)
MORE: The Estranged and Autistic Youth play a record-release show Sunday, Sept. 5, at Dunes with the The Free Radicalz, and the Bi-Marks. 9 pm. $5. 21+. John Isaacson is the artist behind LocalCut.com’s weekly Feedback column. Each week he attends a show and reports back with a live review in comic form. Win Tickets to the Budos Band!
The band is bringing those same funky sounds to Dante’s this Friday night in support of its new album, The Budos Band III (the music is more creative than the album title, we swear) and we’ve got two tickets plus a bunch of goodies from Daptone Records to give away. To win, come up with a better name for the band’s next album than The Budos Band IV. Leave your suggestions in the comments below. Click here to view the embedded video. Irrelevant Interviews: Benjamin Starshine
Yes! So amazing there. Do you use the green sauce and the red sauce? What’s the funnest thing you did this summer? On the Fruit Loop?! Like the cereal? That’s awesome and makes so much more sense [than Fruit Loops]. What was your favorite farm? Do you have a favorite kind of cherry? Do you think cherry is your favorite berry? Where do you want to tour but haven’t? Have you ever been over there before? What was your favorite place in New York? Was there a specific place that made you go “Awwww?” What is your… Sure! Have you ever been? What was your favorite thing about it? Ok. Favorite late night cart? What was the last great movie you saw? Yes. Yes you can. He does those great large dance numbers, right? With all the dancers going together in unison like synchronized swimmers? What’s your favorite outdoor activity? Do you have a favorite spot? Favorite David Bowie album? Favorite song on there? In the Wizard of Oz, which character do you identify with the most? Do you think Al Gore actually invented the internet? Where’s the best place to find a record in Portland? Do you remember the last record you bought there? Final question: What’s your favorite decade of music? Any particular style, label, band? How did you first find out about them? Did you know who he was when you picked up the record? GIVE HIM A TRY: Benjamin Starshine is playing at the Woods with Pete International Airport and Happy Prescriptions this Friday, September 3. Doors are at 9 pm, show’s at 10 pm. $5. (Psst. If you miss the band then, Benjamin Starshine is coming back on September 24 to play the East End.) Links: Images by Kat Gardiner. Live Review: Wavves, Friday, August 28 @ Bunk Bar
As the band would later relay, the show came into being only two days previous, and despite some magnificent screen-printed posters, the venue managed to keep the event’s existence an impressive secret right up until the final hour. It was a surprise conceived by someone with a talent for creating buzz, and, surprise surprise, Bunk Bar is staffed by droves of such people. An expansion on what is generally agreed to be Portland’s finest sandwich shop, Bunk Bar opened about a week ago on the corner of Yamhill and Water Avenue. The bar is bordered to the West by Water Avenue Coffee and to all other directions by a half-decade of industrial decline. The times, however, are a changin’. In addition to Bunk Bar and the aforementioned Water Avenue Coffee, the district has recently become home to a remodeled Produce Row Café, as well as a series of specialty eateries, including Olympic Provisions and Beaker and Flask. Warehouses are being remodeled into advertising offices. The hope seems to be to transform the taciturn Eastside industrial district into a stretch of bars and boutiques—something in the vein of Mississippi Avenue. As of the present, Water Avenue is still marked primarily by shuttered warehouses, but Bunk Bar, and its high-end fare, is betting on a trend. And if the bar itself is any indication, the staff of Bunk is to be immediately trusted on the subject of trends. At first glance the space bears a close relation to its fellow Eastside watering hole, Rontoms. Lit mostly by candles and concealed sconces, the bar is primly cavernous. Booths line the far wall, and a majority of the space is consumed with a large and, early in the evening at least, notably empty dance floor. Like Rontoms, the mood is stygian, and like Rontoms the clientele is a mix of elegantly professional and fashionably shabby, though in this case things are trending decidedly towards the former. On the East wall hangs a mural of a man walking down a stretch of train tracks; on the North wall, a menu featuring several of Bunk’s greater inventions. The bar seems like an odd setting at present, because while the fare and clientele suggest a restaurant setting, Bunk Bar has itself currently decked out as a concert space, and with very good reason. Wavves is playing, and Wavves is a story in its own right. The band was originally the solo recording project of front man Nathan Williams, a sideline to his otherwise thriving career as a Southern California slacker. As of 2008, he was a nonchalant twenty-something whose day-to-day revolved around skateboarding, smoking as much weed as presently available, and recording trashy, fuzzed-out pop songs in his mom’s basement. In 2008, the indie rock kingmakers at Pitchfork Media latched onto Williams’ second album, shouldered it with the title “Best New Music,” and invited Wavves to play its Primavera Music Festival in Barcelona. Williams went from tinkering around in his basement to being a major presence in the international festival circuit in less than a month. The transition was less than smooth. He had a minor meltdown at the Primavera Music Festival, ditched his original drummer, paired up with drummer Billy Hayes and bassist Stephen Pope (both formerly of Jay Reatard), and released a third LP (King of the Beach) on a label founded and run by a soft drink company (Mountain Dew). The band’s appearance tonight comes during a two-day lull in the trio’s stint as an opening act for Phoenix. Over the past two years the group (in one of several formations) has played everything from Williams’ backyard to Lollapalooza. And then there’s the controversy. To call Wavves’ music “minimalist” is kind of an understatement. The tracks that catapulted Williams to fame were so rustic that it seemed like something had gone fundamentally wrong in their creation; they seemed like the initial experiments from a group that had yet to figure out how to use the volume knob on its four-track. As it turns out, Williams did record his first two albums on a four track, and he did know how to use the volume knob—he just didn’t care to do so. The cacophony of Wavves’ second album (titled, confusingly, Wavvves) was brilliant, in its way, for being unconcerned to the point of dismissive with any kind of polish. Williams’ songs were rock and roll stripped down to its barest incarnation, a sort of Heart of Darkness journey into the smirking, juvenile brain stem of pop. Or at least that’s the story that Wavves’ fans (an uncomfortable number of music critics among them) would have you believe. The opposing argument was that Wavves was utter, amateurish shite, a laughable byproduct of the blogoshpere’s insatiable greed for trends. The whole thing was a case study of not only the emperor but also the cabinet, the military, and the court jester all walking around in the buff. So which Wavves was going to show up at Bunk Bar? The petulant, self-destructive charlatan, or the avant-noise wunderkind? The latter, I would argue.
When Wavves takes the stage at just past eleven the trio looks, and sounds, like its shit is thoroughly together. Williams, Pope, and Hayes go about their set with the kind of seamless rapport that can only result from months of solid touring, or years of solid practice. There may be some carryover from the days of Jay Reatard, but when the trio smashes through “Post-Acid” or stretches the end of “No Hope Kids” into a five-minute jam, there’s isn’t so much as the ghost of Primavera Sound’s unprofessional mess. What’s more, the band performs like it’s actually enjoying the task. Williams has developed his floppy head bobbing into a goofy piece of choreography; Stephen Pope’s sloppily dyed afro is tossed around like a perpetually reoccurring explosion.
It’s hard to escape the dissonance that Wavves brings to the venue, as the trio—with its cutoffs and self-styled hair—is easily grodier than anything else gracing the interior of Bunk Bar. But still, there’s a mosh pit that starts up during the first song and keeps an active membership clear until the end. Bunk Bar is a moderate to smaller venue, and it’s in this space that Wavves shows its strength. Pumped through Bunk Bar’s muscular sound system, Wavves’ songs seem like the work of cheerful garage punks, rather than the pure-noise abstraction of Williams’ solo work. You don’t have to use much imagination to see why some of Wavves’ festival performances have been so disastrous. The music is giddy and smirking and seems like it would lose its essential combativeness, were it placed in a larger venue. Watching Wavves, it’s easy to see how Williams’ music has caused a critical scrum. Williams himself is a combative figure. His stage patter is dismissive (he talks about how his throat is sore because he’s been smoking too many blunts), but when he starts playing he does so with an honest desire to see the crowd engaged. This desire is coated with a heavy lacquer of irony, like he’s playing a game of chicken with his audience, trying to see who will be the first to crack and admit that they’re, you know, actually having fun.
Wavves’ affected nonchalance is legendary, but it’s masking a sense, present in both Williams’ earlier songs and this summer’s more polished King of the Beach, that what the group is striving for is stupid, uninhibited release. It’s part of what makes tonight’s show so strange, and so successful. The crowd at Bunk Bar, and the bar itself, has affected an air of cosmopolitan refinement. From the tastefully disheveled haircuts to the leather-padded bar, the room seems engaged in an effort to carry the adjectives “urbane” and “understated” to their terminal degrees. Into this milieu, Wavves comes screaming like a straight dose of neon-colored id. Williams sneers and challenges and dares his audience to play along as he goes yowling through forty-five minutes of unrestraint. Tonight, at least, it’s a bargain to which both parties can eagerly agree. Maybe it’s not surprising that the two work so well together—Williams’ posturing and Bunk Bar’s atmosphere. It’s a pairing that allows both to be seen at what is, probably, their best. Links: Images by Shane Danaher. Also, his proposed title and readout (for posterity’s sake): Wavves of Mutilation; California shitgaze heroes play surprise show at Bunk Bar. Video: Starparty, “Sleep When You’re Dead”
“Sleep When You’re Dead” is the kind of song that made me excited about Starparty in the first place. Catchy, smart, punky with a pop safety net below (that same mood is in the video: These kids like punk, but they’re not too crazy); the tune has been stuck in my head since bassist Raine Frederickson sent an early version of it my way a couple months ago. This is the sound of a young group finding its forte and graduating from high school band status. They play with an unrehearsed passion that most bands wish they could still dig down and find. I can’t get enough of that. (If you’re like me, you can download the MP3 here.) Links: Band photo by Jarod Opperman. Feedback: Punch and Ceremony at Satyricon
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