My Black Keys Experience

Every so often Skully’s and Jack Daniel’s team up to host a free show with a band that would usually play a venue larger than Skully’s. Past shows brought in Spoon, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and The Walkmen, but Monday’s show with the Black Keys was a whole other tier. The excitement for this show was more than I’ve seen for any concert in a long time, and the fans came out in droves. Skully himself called it the most popular show he’s ever done.

Outside the music-diner before the show, the line snaked its way past the parking lot, supposedly stretching all the way to 5th Avenue earlier in the day. Some people gave up (“Dude, let’s just go get drunk at Surly Girl”), but there was still a line 10 minutes before the show ended. I was a doofus and didn’t show up till 9:35, and at point my name on a seemingly nonexistent list was not getting me past the red velvet ropes--and I mean that literally. There were actually velvet ropes.

Thanks to the generosity of one Wes Flexner (who gets on a list like that with a +3??), the flustered, bewildered, overwhelmed JD reps eventually parted the ropes, the free-drink tickets were administered and I eventually settled between the front bard and the bathrooms. There wasn’t much hope of getting any closer. The place was shoulder-to-shoulder all the way back, and every five feet closer to the stage was five degrees hotter.

Skully’s had been magically transformed into a Jack Daniel’s advertisement, with countless bottles of JD lining the bar and big posters that occasionally advised you to “add responsibility to the mix.” The win-tickets-only show brought all kinds: middle-aged men wearing short-sleeve, unbuttoned button-downs; ironic mustache types; the scenester glitterati; a roid-raging Keys fan who was ejected from the premises; and that dude who played the eccentric British boyfriend in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, or at least a look-alike who seemed to be very proud of his eyeliner.

Still, the quintessential person at this show was probably the college-age dude in a Black Keys T-shirt leading his drunk girlfriend out by the hand. Ah yes, the girlfriends. Many of these tag-along significant others could be seen exiting throughout the night, fed up with the heat, the close quarters, or just the fact that the Black Keys really do sound like a fuzzed-out, blues-rock duo. “They’re just not as good as I thought they’d be,” one woman said. This was after I redirected her from entering the men’s bathroom. She thought she was exiting the building.

I pretty much listened to the show more than I did watch it, although if I stood on my toes I could see the duo’s heads from time to time. It was still plenty loud, though. The first half of the set was mostly older stuff. “10 am Automatic” was a crowd pleaser. The second half incorporated more new stuff, which I thought sounded best: “Psychotic Girl,” “Strange Times,” “I Got Mine,” “Same Old Thing.” It was raucous and messy, all in a good, fun way.

The big question on my mind all night was: Why do people (myself included) like the Black Keys so much?

On the way home from the show, I got McDonald’s French fries, because no matter who you are or where you grew up or what social strata you belong to or see yourself in or if you’re urban or suburban or you grew up in a town of dirt and tumbleweeds, you probably crave McDonald’s French fries on occasion. It may be comfort food or a guilty pleasure, or maybe you even eat them ironically. No matter. The point is, just about everyone likes them. They’re the great societal equalizer.

And maybe the Black Keys are like McDonald’s French fries. People from all walks of life and musical inclinations love the Black Keys. At their base, the Black Keys play blues-rock, and ever since Jimmy Page and Robert Plant appropriated the blues and funneled it into young white people, blues-rock has become the base for subsequent subgenres of rock too many to count. And that’s a foundation with endless appeal if it’s done well. Classic rockers like it because it’s so bluesy. College rockers like it because it rocks so hard. Kids like it because the guitar is so loud and distorted, which = awesome. Indie rockers like it because it’s so simple. The list goes on. The Black Keys can be appropriated into whatever rock ghetto you’re drawn to.

The majority of the fans seemed to end the night pretty satisfied. I regretted not showing up earlier to watch the show from somewhere other than the bathroom, but still, mostly satisfied. See? Just like fries. Satisfied, with a twinge of regret.

Matt & Kim, Hollywood Holt, Tin Armor - Skully's

From the moment Matt & Kim played their first note at Skully’s on Friday night, a guy standing in front of me gripped the railing of the stage, closed his eyes, threw his head back, smiled and moved to the beat. He didn’t stop until the final note was played.

At some indie-rock shows, a guy like this might stick out like a pair of pressed khakis. But I only noticed him because I was watching the show from the comparatively sedate side stage. From the front of the stage almost all the way back to the bar, enthused kids threw their hands up, danced, gyrated, shouted along and generally immersed themselves in the music coming from this keyboard-and-drums duo. I even saw someone skipping. While a scene like this is somewhat of a rarity at a Columbus rock show, at least at most of the venues I frequent, I get the feeling it’s standard fare for Matt & Kim--the smiliest couple in indie rock.

Though I’ll happily put on the duo’s sophomore album, Grand, when the mood strikes, I admit the couple’s youthful exuberance and Matt Johnson’s prone-to-cracking, slightly emo vocals don’t knock me out on record. But in a live setting, watching Kim Schifino pummel her floor tom with affixed perma-grin and seeing Johnson bang out the opening notes of “Daylight,” the giddiness is contagious as a runny nose.

It was odd that with a live show this good, the two screens behind the pair just rotated fairly boring images of words like “Grand” and “Matt and Kim.” The only cool image was some exploding fireworks. It didn’t detract from the vibe, but I imagine with some more time and thought put into the projections, wide-eyed fans’ heads would explode.

Heeding the “simple is better” punk philosophy, almost all of the tunes were propelled by Schifino’s simple beats. I was happy to hear all three of Grand’s opening trifecta--“Good Ol’ Fashion Nightmare,” “Cutdown” and “Daylight”--at some point in the evening. They’re the best songs the two have written. Before the last song of the night, Johnson stood up and gave a passionate, endearingly idealistic speech about supporting Obama, remembering everything in life and trying hard, followed by the only (seemingly) unironic rendition of Europe’s “The Final Countdown” I’ve ever heard.

Chicago rapper Hollywood Holt did a good job of getting the crowd all riled up, despite being relatively unknown and employing a sheepishly green deejay (“DJ Skyler”) prone to screwing up. Judging by the five to ten friends roaming the stage taking pictures and video, Holt is pretty new to this game. But he was determined to get the place moving, and his mix of old-school rhymes, crunky beats and vaguely punk influences did the job.

Like Matt & Kim, Hollywood ain’t afraid to make you smile, with lyrics about the cleanliness of his clothes and the recent purchase of a moped. For some reason, I also found his onstage sidekick hilarious (in a good way), so that helped, too. Fans of party rap, electro and the Beastie Boys should find much to like.

I forgot that I’d seen opener Tin Armor before when the band opened for Frightened Rabbit and Spinto Band, so I guess the locals didn’t leave a big impression on me. But I really liked what I heard this time. The band’s blend of punk, pop and rock just felt more put together, feeding off the energy of a full house. This time I’ll remember.

Donewating 6-yr anniversary show: Envelope, Two Cow Garage, Moon High, Adulture

(Late post of last week's show...)

I don’t pretend to be a connoisseur of the Columbus hip-hop scene. In fact, my knowledge pretty much ends with a passing familiarity of the Weightless Recordings roster and Wes Flexner’s entertaining ramblings on local music blog Donewaiting.com. So I can’t really compare Envelope’s performance for Donewaiting’s six-year anniversary show at Skully’s last weekend with other hometown rappers’ performances. But man does this guy put on a great show.

First off, it’s refreshing to see someone put so much time and energy into an actual stage show, as opposed to just getting up there, staring at the ground and going through the motions. Envelope (aka Tony Collinger) billed the night as “Envelope presents The Corner Store,” and he meant that quite literally. The guy constructed a huge set (mostly out of cardboard, I think) for the stage--what looked like a corner store stocked with cereal, ranch dressing, Magnum condoms, chips, etc. It made for a long set changeover, but worth the wait.

Collinger comes off like a lovable goofball bounding around the stage--a far cry from ultra-macho, egomaniacal emcees obsessed with proclaiming their lyrical superiority and sexual prowess. He’s humble, yet highly entertaining, with a self-deprecating sense of humor. (On one track from 2008’s Blueprint-produced Shark Bolt, he says, “I’ll even admit that I’m annoyed when I hear too much of my own voice.”)

It was definitely a sloppy show. Collinger has a great flow but can’t sing for his life; luckily he usually asked the crowd to help out with the sing-along refrains (e.g. “I’m not poor, I’m just broke, broke as hell”). He also screwed up one of my favorite lines from “Oh My My My...,” a complaint about the letdowns of science: “They got wisdom like the Masons lack secrets.” But he made up for it with some other choice nuggets: “American Apparel’s owned by a sexual predator”; “Lost my swagger so I started jogging/ Beer gut, not so awesome”; “If we’re so smart, and nothing is left unexplored/ Then why’s it 2009 and I don’t have my hoverboard?”

He’s also more acutely perceptive than he gives himself credit for. “Day Dream Nation” does a pretty good job of diagnosing society’s ills and skewering the culprits--a group from which he doesn’t exclude himself.

And while an Envelope album is all about the smirky, everyman lyrics, an Envelope show is more about the experience. Just a playful, talented dude dropping rhymes, shouting out to his friends (like onstage deejay Detox) and acting out tongue-in-cheek skits with other friends (like The Catalyst). A fellow TOP critic described Envelope’s last album as quintessentially “Columbus,” and that goes for the Whetstone grad himself, too. Collinger unapologetically embraces this city, and we’d be right to return the favor.

Two Cow Garage gave one of its typical gerbil-on-a-speedball performances, with all the gusto and grit we’ve come to expect from the band, along with a near-overdose of catchy choruses. I’ve been doling out ego boosters to these guys a lot recently, so I won’t go on and on, but I have no qualms calling Two Cow the best live rock band in Columbus. Oh, and the drummer smashed half of his drum set on the last song.

I didn’t stay for laptop duo Adulture’s closing set, but the young’uns played some cool stuff in between acts, doing impressive live edits of Portishead and more. Moon High, a newish folk-inspired act I’ve been enjoying, opened the show with one of the most upbeat songs I’ve heard from the usually super-placid band. I’m excited to hear more of that. Musically, the rest of the set was pretty solid, too, but I tend to think atmosphere is more crucial than usual when watching Moon High perform, and Skully’s garish surroundings seemed to clash with the band’s aesthetic (foot-switchable globe lights, banjo plucking, tranquil songwriting). I’d rather experience the songs at a place like the Treehouse (where the band performed this past Friday with the Couch Forts) than at what someone recently described to me as “Columbus’s version of L.A.”

(Also at The Other Paper)

Ghost Shirt, Couch Forts, Wing & Tusk, Phantods - Skully's

Four local bands played Skully’s on Friday night, and the place was packed. I don’t know if these bands just draw really well, or that was the only thing going on. Or maybe Skully’s always does that well on Friday nights and I just didn’t realize it. Whatever the reason, bully for you, Columbus, for supporting the locals.

For the most part, the bands didn’t disappoint. I was most excited to Ghost Shirt, one of the city’s most promising new bands. Singer/guitarist Branden Barnett led the band through a set of meticulously arranged songs rife with magnetic hooks that felt vaguely familiar but rarely rehashed, taking lessons from the Lemonheads, the Kinks and, like any rock group that embraces its inner pop, the Beatles.

I liked the songs from other vocalist/guitarist Phil Palma, too, but Barnett rightfully took the center stage spot next to Ghost Shirt’s exceptionally smiley violinist. Barnett has an electric presence live, and his strong vocals keep the pretty melodies from ever sounding precious. The slow crooner of the night (“History of the Blue,” I think) was nice, too, though probably a little lengthy for this crowd.

Ghost Shirt apparently has a 10-song demo CD circulating, which I’d like to get my hands on, but I’m hoping I don’t have to wait too long to hear a proper release by this band.

Following up Ghost Shirt was Couch Forts, a three-piece of electric guitar, banjo and violin that drew me in with their extraordinary musicianship. The songs rarely contained chords, instead opting for intricately picked patterns on each instrument that merged to create a surprisingly streamlined melodic base. Somehow this trio made virtuosic complexity sound simple.

Singer/guitarist Owen Kelley sang with unpretentious nerdiness and vigor, sounding like a mash-up of John Darnielle and Colin Meloy. Then, whenever he punctuated the beat with a floor tom, he’d spit lyrics with an edgy impetuosity. I mentioned last week that Couch Forts fit in well with fellow Columbus quirk-folkies Our Cat Philip and Super Desserts, which is true, but this band is still one-of-a-kind stylistically. If three leprechaun musicians woke up one morning and decided to renounce their Irish heritage and supplant it with Appalachia, I think it would sound like the Couch Forts. (The band prefers a shorter description: “yellowgrass.”) The downside is, Kelley’s vocal cadence is so static and the vibe is so consistent that after a few songs it felt like one long song. Some more structural and vocal creativity in the songwriting would be welcome.

Having never seen Wing & Tusk live before, I probably mischaracterized the band a bit in my preview last week by describing its sound as “brittle, Pedro the Lion-esque folk-pop.” There’s definitely some Pedro the Lion in there, and some folk-pop in Wing & Tusk’s recorded material, but live, Wing & Tusk was much more grandiose and sweeping than I had anticipated. (Guess that’s what I get for going solely off a band’s two Myspace songs.) What was brittle, however, was singer Joshua Rea’s voice. I’m OK with brittle voices, but Rea seemed to be going more for reverby, majestic vocals--not unlike a more epic and less pastoral Band Of Horses--and his consistent vocal cracks messed with that feeling some. I don’t know if he was singing out of his range, or if he just a bad night.

That didn’t ruin the songs by any means, though, and the band’s swell-filled rock was a nice contrast to Couch Forts.

The place was still packed when Phantods took the stage to close the night. Gretchen King is Phantods’ main attraction; her soaring vocals are a treat to hear live. I also applaud the band for taking chances and tackling so many genres, often in just one song. But to my ears, the band’s various influences car-crash into each other as often as they complement. The wide swaths of head-banging, metallic guitar don’t always cozy up next to the carousel melodies and waltzy interludes. I’d love to hear more songs where the heavy riffage is toned down, or at least sounds more seamless and less surgically implanted.

(Also at The Other Paper)

Blitzen Trapper, Horse Feathers - Skully's

Blitzen Trapper is on track to become The Next Big Thing. Not a here-today-gone-tomorrow buzz band (remember Black Kids?)--a mainstay.

Here’s proof. First, the Portland band released Wild Mountain Nation last year to moderate acclaim. It’s a good record, if a bit uneven, with a hefty dose of messy slacker rock amid crispy bits of countrified rock. It was Blitzen Trapper’s most widely heard album yet, leading to a deal with Sub Pop and this year’s Furr. Furr is a terrific album of Dylan-inspired tunes that find the band maturing without growing dull--a tough feat. Expect to hear more about this record as the audience grows.

And so all that’s left to solidify Blitzen Trapper as a force to be reckoned with is its live show, and the six-piece proved Tuesday night at Skully’s that it’s more than capable of winning hearts and minds from the stage.

In the big scheme of things, bandleader Eric Earley’s chiseled good looks probably won’t hurt Blitzen Trapper’s coming ascension, either. Earley is the band’s songwriter, usually writing songs on his own and recording/producing lots of them himself in the studio. But Blitzen Trapper doesn’t feel the least bit like a solo project. On stage the band is a tight, finely tuned machine, and each part is integral in making the gears turn.

There were only a few Pavement moments Tuesday night, “Love U” being one of them. Most other songs mixed the band’s fuzzy past with its furry present. “Gold for Bread” was one of the best examples of how well Blitzen Trapper mixes the old with the new, taking an energetic rocker and giving it an unmistakable Western vibe.

The full room responded most to “Furr,” the superbly written centerpiece of the band’s new album. The acoustic-based tune is a songwriting exemplar that uses Dylan as inspiration, yet still manages to feel original. The creative, more electric live arrangement brought spontaneous, simultaneous cheers from the crowd at certain points. (See? A finely crafted song can even get hipsters all worked up.)

There’s no reason for the band to ditch older songs like “Country Caravan” or “Wild Mountain Nation,” either. It allows the Oregonians to unleash a more playful side. That side came out during the encore, especially on “Miss Spiritual Tramp” (“It was a drive-by/ Columbian necktie”) and a cover of Dolly Parton’s “The Last Thing on My Mind.”

Tour mate and fellow Portlander Horse Feathers, on the other hand, wasn’t playful in the least. The guitar-violin-cello trio played quiet, folky songs you’d expect to hear coming from inside the snowy, wintry barn on the cover of the band’s most recent record, House with No Home.

It was a strange juxtaposition to have a such a hushed, lulling band bathed in Skully’s pink lighting underneath a disco ball, but eventually everyone caught on to the vibe and quieted down, allowing singer Justin Ringle’s tenor to carry. Ringle’s voice is soothing, and he has a calm presence to match it. He also happens to look a lot like Ron Howard--the bearded, director version of Ron Howard, not Opie or Richie Cunningham.

The live performance offered more dynamic range than House with No Home, which suffers from a bit of sameness. But the strings provided plenty of interest Tuesday night, even when Ringle’s singing began to sound a bit repetitive.

“Working Poor” featured a violin riff that hung in the air long after it was gone. The violinist also played the saw for a tune called “Heathen’s Kiss.” Maybe it’s a gimmick, but I give extra points to any band that successfully employs a cutting tool in its songs.

mp3: Blitzen Trapper - Furr
mp3: Horse Feathers - Curs in the Weeds

Margot & the Nuclear So and So's - Skully's, 10-19

At Sunday night’s Margot & the Nuclear So and So’s show--the band’s first in Columbus in quite a while--all the ingredients were there to make a memorable performance. The back of Skully’s was comfortably full with attentive attendees, the stage was set off nicely by an artful backdrop in the vein of Margot’s recent cover art, and all 10 players were audible in the near-perfect mix.

So my biggest complaint is that it didn’t last long enough. The band exited the stage after a strong 45-minute set. It wasn’t their fault, really. Skully’s had something else booked later that night. But it left me, and from what I could tell, most of the crowd, wanting more.

I imagine the band didn’t enjoy setting up for 10 people and then taking it all down 45 minutes later. But each musician played his or her role with aplomb. As I mentioned in last week’s preview, on record Margot has figured out how to avoid choking songs with overpowering arrangements--a common temptation for any band with more than five members. That strength carried over to the live show, as well, even with two extra people.

There was almost more of an emphasis on bandleader Richard Edwards’s words live. It wasn’t uncommon to have only two instruments playing at a time, or to see three tambourines and other hand percussion all going at once, which is comical, but also a good thing. You don’t need the brass on every song. (I’m still not sure what purpose the contraption with a big water bottle on top served, other than providing an elaborate stand for the attached triangles.)

Edwards had a serious disposition throughout the set, even when the violinist from Judgement Day (an opener I missed, along with David Vandervelde) was blowing bubbles in between maraca shakes. That could have been due to a cold, which made his voice a bit more nasally, but not detrimentally so.

Just as violinist/lap-steel player and hometown boy Erik Kang (Tiara, the Emerald Down) predicted last week, the band focused mostly on material from Animal!, Margot’s new album on Epic, as opposed to Not Animal, the other new album on Epic filled with songs of the record company’s choosing. The only two older songs of the night were “On a Freezing Chicago Street,” which had a beautiful, orchestral sound as Edwards conducted with his guitar, and “Skeleton Key,” one of my favorites from The Dust of Retreat. The strings were nice and pronounced on that one, too, but the slower, waltzy arrangement detracted from the propulsive feel the album version conveys.

“My Baby Shoots her Mouth Off” was chock-full of falsetto goodness, and I’m also partial to the back-and-forth vocals with keyboardist Emily Watson on “There’s Talk of Mine Shafts” and “Mariel’s Brazen Overture.” Other songs such as “O’ What a Nightmare!” and “A Children’s Crusade on Acid” showed how the band’s songwriting now focuses more on tunes with different movements that rely on a groove or feeling rather than traditional pop structures.

Animal! standout “As Tall as Cliffs” ended the abbreviated night on a loose, playful note, preceded by Edwards’s run-on send-off: “Sorry about the cold this is the last song hope you had fun bye.”

Oh, Margot. We hardly knew ye!

Handsome Furs w/ the Cinnamon Band - Skully's

Apparently people really like Handsome Furs, because the band had a surprisingly large crowd for a late Tuesday night at Skully’s.

It’s particularly surprising because Handsome Furs is a mere side project of Dan Boeckner, who is Spencer Krug’s songwriting partner in Wolf Parade. Boeckner enlisted the help of his wife, Alexei Perry, to create a distinctly different sound arising from the limitations inherent in a two-person band. Boeckner’s rhythmic guitar clips briskly along to the beats Perry lays down on the drum machine, plus her various synth tones.

Though Boeckner’s frantic energy was eye-catching onstage, Perry stole the show as she jumped, danced, gyrated and kicked in her bright sequined outfit behind all the electronics. She was sweaty by the second song, and the recurring smile she flashed was just as sparkly as her top. The enthusiastic (read: drunk) front row couldn’t get enough of her, and even this bleary-eyed critic with a notepad at the back of the room was fully engaged.

Handsome Furs take electro beats that beg you to dance and combine them with big, washed-in-synth choruses that would make Springsteen jealous. The charging rhythms and overall volume of the Skully’s performance made all the songs feel more epic than they do on the band’s 2007 debut, Plague Park. And to sound epic with just two people and no drum set is quite a feat.

The self-described “hosers from Canada” played lots of new stuff, too, including “Evangeline” (about copulating) and “Thy Will” (about cocaine). Plague Park numbers like “Dead + Rural” got the whole crowd bouncing, and “Handsome Furs Hate This City” felt like the perfect summertime jam despite the lyrics. “Life is long and hollow/We hate this city and its drone,” Boeckner sang, but his and Perry’s attitude didn’t reflect the sentiment. From the looks of it, the two appear to be living life to its fullest.

The unfortunately named Cinnamon Band opened the show, filling in for the Witchies, who were supposedly held up at the Canadian border over some sort of work-visa issue. The Virginia guitar and drums duo played with much less gusto than other guitar and drums duos that come to mind (Black Keys, White Stripes).

Most of that stemmed from the singer/guitarist, who didn’t have a trace of charisma, making the band’s set less believable. The songs usually had country overtones, but they ended up sounding like incomplete Tom Petty tunes. And pounding on the drums extra hard didn’t make them feel more complete.

The harmonies were nice, but they couldn’t save the middle-of-the-road songs. I’m also not sure what forgoing a bassist and other musicians is doing for this band. A duo like Handsome Furs could fill the stage with two just fine, but to my ears, the Cinnamon Band’s songs could use the extra oomph another musician or two would bring.

Bodies of Water w/ Port O'Brien and Tulsa - Skully's

It’s a testament to the ever-expanding canopy of indie rock that Bodies of Water can nestle comfortably next to several other similar groups. In a game of Connect 4, the band would be your winning token on top of Akron/Family, Arcade Fire and Danielson Famile—groups that feel more like micro-communities that happen to play music rather than mere bands. If you’re into that, Bodies of Water is your bread and butter.

And yet, on Monday night at Skully’s, the Los Angeles band revealed over and over again what keeps it from being just another commune of rockers.

It all came to a head on “Gold, Tan, Peach, and Grey,” the exceptionally strong opening track off the band’s latest, A Certain Feeling. It was one of the set’s standouts, too, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only eschatological prog-rock gospel anthem I’ve ever heard.

In it, the husband-and-wife team of David and Meredith Metcalf led the band through visions of the end days, starting softly, then building boisterously as the world melds into the song title’s colors. “Sever the silver cord/And break the golden bowl/And let us return to dust/And be at last made whole,” David Metcalf sang in near-cabaret tones, describing a new world without “talk of where or when” or “feelings of vague rapport.”

Meredith Metcalf dominated the end of the number singing from behind the keys, her beanpole frame bouncing madly to let the notes escape. She’s something to hear and behold, a tiny woman with an outrageously big range that often reaches into operatic territory.

“Only You” found the band slow and overcast (yet still captivating), but the vast majority of the songs revealed the band’s skill at crafting irony-absent compositions with distinct and often surprising movements. “Water Here” completely changed moods halfway through, abruptly jumping from a sing-along tribal song to something much funkier with a driving, contagious beat. David Metcalf’s impressive versatility on guitar was just as essential as the drums on multi-movement tunes like these. He’s a deceivingly great guitarist.

Between tunes, the band expressed its disappointment that White Castle is one of Columbus’s best examples of “regional food.” I was equally disappointed that the band neglected to include “Under the Pines” in its set, but “These Are the Eyes” made for a great closer, with the Metcalfs and company chanting “Nature forgave but I cannot forget” with increasing speed and ending with a bang. Not a whimper.

The intriguingly named Van Pierszalowski, the barefoot singer for the previous act, Port O’Brien, aptly described his group as an “Alaskan country-rock band.” In a different world, Pierszalowski could have fronted an early ’90s grunge band (“Tree Bones” sounded a whole lot like a Nirvana Unplugged tune), but in this world he leads his merry band of musicians through Neil Young-tinged soundscapes with lots of nautical references—presumably from his prior experience as an Alaskan fisherman.

The band picked up on the small crowd (Skully’s feels cavernous on a slow night) and seemed to be playing mostly to itself and cracking inside jokes, but it didn’t detract too much. Port O’Brien could give the Black Crowes a few lessons in jamming, too: Several songs broke out of acoustic mode and into instrumental breakdowns with frenetic, creative leads and rhythms. The tunes didn’t have as much power as Bodies of Water’s, but the band wasn’t a bad precursor nonetheless.

Tulsa opened the night, and the Boston trio reminded me of reverb-heavy rockers like Band of Horses, (early) My Morning Jacket and even Fleet Foxes, but forgoing a crystalline sound for a dirtier, more vintage vibe. Like label mate Dr. Dog, the band has a love for classic rock and pop.

The singer looked strikingly young, so I’ll be curious to see how he develops the band’s sound beyond something that right now doesn’t deserve too much more than a cursory mention. But a song like “Mass” shows the potential is there.

mp3: Bodies of Water - Under the Pines
mp3: Port O'Brien - I Woke Up Today
mp3: Tulsa - Mass

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, Ha Ha Tonka, Our Cat Philip - Skully's

If Zach Braff were still making mix CDs of his favorite artists to soundtrack his movies, I imagine Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin filling the spots once reserved for the Shins. Like a more cumbersomely named cousin, the band’s hook-laden indie pop songs are in the same extended family.

But at Skully’s on Sunday night, SSLYBY couldn’t recreate its super-clean, catchy sound effectively. The Springfield, Missouri, band came off as young and inexperienced, replacing boyish exuberance with bland stiffness. On Pershing, the band’s latest and mostly solid album, even songs like “Think I Wanna Die” somehow come off as gleeful and peppy, which made the concert all the more disappointing.

To be fair, a lot of this was probably due to the lead singer/guitarist losing his voice. Those sweet harmonies didn’t work, and every note felt like the tippy top of his register--a bad combination for SSLYBY’s nice little pop songs.

Actually, referring to him as the lead singer/guitarist might not be completely accurate, as he eventually switched to bass, surrendering the singer/guitarist spot to the former drummer as the former bassist then sat behind the kit. But the sometimes-drummer’s awkward timidity and strained voice weren’t much better. He did a fine job with “Modern Mystery,” though, buoyed by the song’s bouncy beat.

The band also threw in a cover of Arrested Development’s “Mr. Wendal,” a song I hadn’t thought about in years. It was a good diversion and a pretty fun choice, but mostly for nostalgic reasons, as the drummer-singer had no flow whatsoever.

With no last-song warning, “Oceanographer” wrapped up the set unexpectedly while the crowd stood waiting for an encore that never came. It was an anticlimactic ending to an underwhelming performance.

Fellow Springfield natives Ha Ha Tonka fueled their set with more Ozark energy and a sound that made it much more obvious the band hails from Missouri, coating good ‘ole rock-and-roll with a crispy southern crust. If you sometimes wish Kings of Leon had a better singer and more ferocious guitar, Ha Ha Tonka would probably be a good remedy.

All four of these guys can sing their hearts out, as they showed on an a capella cover of the traditional Southern folk song “Hangman.” It knocked me out. Ditto for a newer song called “12-Inch Three-Speed Oscillating Fan.” Though he probably should have saved his voice, Yeltsin’s John Robert Cardwell hopped on stage for the tune, as did the headliner’s guitarist, though most of his contribution involved dramatically eating a sandwich. Oh, and a skinny, long-haired dancer dude joined the conglomerate, as well. With arms and legs akimbo, his oddly frenetic, hypnotizing gyrations were an entertaining sideshow throughout the night.

Singer/guitarist Brian Roberts stuck with an acoustic most of the set, letting guitarist/keyboardist Brett Anderson handle the big, chunky guitar chords and smoking leads. (Anderson also did a fine job on lead vocals for one of the set’s more mellow tunes, “Falling In.”) I didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics, but no matter--the performance spoke for itself.

Opening the show was local act Our Cat Philip, an OSU band I knew nothing about but really enjoyed. Singer Max Sollisch’s high-pitched, quavery, crackly voice was eccentric in a way that reminded me of the Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle--a good thing. The songs were alternately driven by keyboard and guitar and always backed by a thick cello and/or violin string section.

It’s tough to put Our Cat Philip into any specific category, but the band employs the sort of simple, twee-folk melodies that make people bob their heads from side to side instead of front to back. The heart-on-the-sleeve lyrics could sometimes be a little cloying, but overall the melancholy ditties satisfied nicely. The band deserves some more of Columbus’s attention, and I anticipate they’ll get it soon enough.