Our Cat Philip, The Damn Yous, Moon High

We're going to start doing more local album/single reviews in The Other Paper. They'll usually be shorter than the regular 400-wordish reviews, but it should still give a good overview. You can find this week's full installment here, and here's just my two below, plus a short show preview I wrote for the Moon High show at Carabar on Saturday. I'll unfortunately be out of town for it, but you should go.

Our Cat Philip - Apart of Someone
I didn’t know much about Our Cat Philip until I saw the youngsters open up for Ha Ha Tonka and Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin a couple of weeks ago, but the performance put the band atop my local-bands-to-pursue-further list. After listening to the group’s debut full-length, Apart of Someone, I’m officially down with OCP. And if you’re able to embrace your inner twee, you’ll be down, too.

Singer Max Sollisch’s quivering tenor (see: John Darnielle) is a quirky counterpoint to the folky melodies created by banjo, pianos (both the plinking toy variety and a grown-up version) and graceful string arrangements. The album, which sounds distinctly different from typically scuzzy Columbus offerings, isn’t quite as zippy as the band’s live show, and the record could stand a few more injections of that twee playfulness the group does so well; Our Cat Philip is at its best when embracing its inner oddities.

But the heart-on-sleeve mellow numbers are nice in small doses—“Like Movies” and “Dana” are particularly fetching ballads. No doubt other fledgling locals will be jealous of a debut like Apart of Someone.

mp3: Our Cat Philip - Like Movies (more freebies available on the band's myspace page)

The Damn Yous
The Damn Yous’ self-titled 7-inch is out on Burnt Sienna Records, which released stuff by Pretty Mighty Mighty back in the day. The accompanying press release describes the band as “fast columbus, oh punk raunch and roll,” and that’s a pretty fitting description. The trio takes the punk fury of Columbus’s New Bomb Turks and adds a hefty dose of Motorhead metal.

Here’s what the Damn Yous do well: raw power, especially on B-side “Suicide Squeeze,” a lo-fi beast that finds the drummer pounding furiously to keep up with the guitar, like a foaming pit bull fighting one of its own, Michael Vick-style.

Here’s what they don’t do well: songwriting and titling. Side A is “Anal Pledge” and “Cock Fight,” neither of which would be out of place on a Spinal Tap track list, but I doubt this is similarly tongue-in-cheek. Either way, these blink-and-they’re-gone songs probably work better in a dingy rock club than on vinyl.

Moon High
Saturday, Aug. 29, Carabar
Like Our Cat Philip, Moon High is a Columbus band playing music utterly different from most Columbus bands. I’ve really been digging the band’s self-titled debut—a moody, folk pastiche full of mournful, pretty songs that bring to mind a less flamboyant Sufjan Stevens. There’s enough going on to appeal to the freak-folk crowd, but it’s restrained enough to appease those who don’t like their folk too freaky. The band also sets the mood nicely at live shows, with big, glowing globes. Rounding out the bill are some other great bands that would make the show worth an outing on their own: Church of the Red Museum, Rosehips and Deerhead.

mp3: Moon High - Lying Here, Dying Here (stream the full album at the Moon High website)

CD101 Summerfest 2008

This year’s CD101 Summerfest was probably worth the money, but that’s not saying much since it was only $5. You’d be hard-pressed to put together a festival with seven bands for $5 (about 71 cents per band) and have it not be worth the cash.

The evening was mostly a disappointment, though, especially compared to last year’s great performances by Silversun Pickups, Sea Wolf and Miranda Sound. VHS or Beta played an underwhelming set last year, but for some reason the band was back this year to headline the main stage at the LC Pavilion, and Saturday night’s set wasn’t any better. In fact, it was worse.

The Louisville band is apparently content to recycle ’80s pop in a danceable form, mixing glossed-up post-punk (minus the spidery guitars) and Robert Smith vocals (minus the drippiness, adding some vocoder). Every song in the set sounded familiar, and not just because I heard most of them last year. It just felt recycled.

The instrumental numbers were no exception. I thought I was listening to muzak versions of other songs--like watching an infomercial for the “Instrumental ’80s.” Much of the crowd seemed to concur, as people trickled to the exit in larger numbers as the set went on, leaving a sparsely populated lawn.

Philadelphia’s Dr. Dog warmed up the stage for VHS or Beta, and while the fivesome didn’t set it on fire by any means, it was a performance worth seeing. For the most part, I preferred the songs the bassist sang--he’s got a howler of a voice that translates better live, especially on “The Beach” and “The Ark,” which was the best song of the night and deserving of the radio play CD101 has been giving it.

Dr. Dog played a lot of older stuff, which is unfortunate because most of the newer stuff had the most energy and sounded freshest. Also, everyone but the bassist was fairly distant and aloof, and that created a barrier that didn’t need to be there. Fortunately for Dr. Dog, the band’s swaying melodies juxtaposed with bouncy grooves helped to make up for it.

Darker My Love had a similarly indifferent stage presence. Maybe they were pissed off at being relegated to the tiny side stage, and deservedly so. Why put a psychedelic band with Big Muff guitars and huge, fuzzy bass lines on the side stage and put acoustic two-piece honeyhoney on the main stage? There’s probably some sort of logistical reason for this, but switching those two would have put both bands in a more natural setting.

Despite looking quite bored, Darker My Love rocked out nicely, albeit inconsistently. Songs without a distinct vocal hook got lost in a way that they don’t on record, but others--like “Blue Day,” “Two Ways Out” and “Talking Words”--rang true and trippy.

Honeyhoney ended up being my favorite band of the night, and previously I didn’t think much of the girl-guy duo. The band’s debut EP, Loose Boots, is a little too polished for my liking, but live the two stripped it down to Ben Jaffe on bass drum and acoustic guitar and Suzanne Santo occasionally accompanying on violin and banjo. Jaffe threw in some nice vocal harmonies throughout, but Santo’s sexy, jazzy voice was the set’s highlight--like a younger, salacious version of Over the Rhine’s Karin Bergquist.

Turning the Smashing Pupmkins’ “1979” into a jazzy vamp was a cool twist, and “I Go to Work” showed Santo’s blunt and playful sense of humor. Honeyhoney was also the most stylistically divergent band on the bill--something the fest could have used more of.

There’s not much good I can say about ism and Tickle Me Pink. Ism was like a less proggy, less talented version of Muse. Every song sounded the same as the one before. It reminded me of a high-school band that just discovered Boss guitar-effects pedals, complete with awkward silences during equipment failures. “Sacred Cows,” the CD101-pimped tune, was borderline horrible. Fittingly, the set ended with a song called “Give it Back,” which is what I wished the band would do with the previous 20 minutes of my life.

Tickle Me Pink--winning the award for worst band name of the festival--played super-bland emo songs with repetitive choruses that were usually screamed by the lead singer (who sported mid-’90s Jennifer Aniston hair). The parts without distortion highlighted his severe vocal limitations, and the lyrics were just atrocious. Exhibit A (“Go Die”): “It’s been so long since I saw you/But it’s been the time of my life/Now that it’s all over/I want you to go die, die.”

I missed Columbus opener the Lost Revival, but even without seeing them, I can pretty much guarantee they were better than ism and Tickle Me Pink.

Like last year, I still have to give kudos to CD101 for putting lesser-known bands on a cheap bill and giving them the opportunity to play for more people than they’re used to. (One example: Dr. Dog was scheduled to play the 300-capacity Basement recently; the band played to a heck of a lot more warm bodies than that on Saturday night.) The festival is also a good annual reminder that we’re lucky to have an independent rock station at all.

Let’s hope next year’s lineup, though, is worth a little more than $5.

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

Jeff Hanson - Madam Owl

I tend to like my singer-songwriters on the quirky side, especially when it comes to singing. The anxious bleating of the Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle and the brittle warbling of Son Lux’s Ryan Lott appeal to me more than someone with a pitch-perfect, pretty voice.

So when I read a press release that mentioned Jeff Hanson’s unique vocal style, I thought it might be right up my alley. And man, those PR folks weren’t kidding about uniqueness. Hanson’s falsetto is so high and odd-sounding it’s no wonder he’s often mistaken for a girl. This isn’t a big, full, Bon Iver-style falsetto. It’s an Alvin and the Chipmunks falsetto.

The character of Hanson’s voice dominates Madam Owl, and unfortunately it quickly goes from mildly intriguing to grating. Hanson’s phrasing and lilt is reminiscent of Elliott Smith, which isn’t a bad thing, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was listening to one of Smith’s LPs on a turntable set to the wrong RPM.

Hanson, who spent his teens in Wisconsin emo band M.I.J., also has an annoying tendency to coat his words in a too-precious, faux British accent, especially on “I Don’t Quite Remember” and “If Only I Knew.” It’s enough to make you madly search your iPod for the most gruff, gravel-voiced singer you can find just to cleanse the palate.

Hanson doesn’t make up for any of this with stellar lyrics, either. “Maryann” is a pleading love song that finds Hanson stringing together lines that you’ve heard in countless songs before: “So can we just run from here?/Cause I have seen no one like you/You were lost, I was too/Where are you from dear?/Can we just stay here?”

Still, there are a few things to enjoy on Madam Owl, namely the plushy string arrangements that accompany Hanson’s acoustic on almost every song. Though the strings probably would have worked better if they’d been more interspersed and not so up-front in the mix, they’re well done nonetheless.

The album’s opener, “Night,” is also a strong point, highlighting Hanson’s ear for melody. If only he’d sing it without all the ultra-feminine, disingenuous accouterments.

Madam Owl is out tomorrow on Kill Rock Stars.

mp3: Jeff Hanson - If I Only Knew

Other Paper link

Reno strikes again

Clint Reno is the go-to guy in Columbus for concert posters, and of all the ones I've seen, I think the Miranda Sound poster above is my favorite.

As the poster indicates so artfully and poignantly, Miranda Sound's last Columbus show ever is this Friday at the Ravari Room. It should be a bittersweet, don't-miss event. Stephen Slaybaugh wrote about the end of MS in this week's Other Paper.

The band takes the stage at midnight, and the poster will apparently be for sale at the show.

Indie Olympics

Commercials during the Olympics seem to have more indie-rock soundtracks than usual. Here's a few I've noticed. Any others I'm missing?

Chevy: Sea Wolf - You're a Wolf
Chevy: Silversun Pickups - Lazy Eye
AT&T: The Decemberists - The Crane Wife 3

edit--more:
Saturn: Noah and the Whale - 5 Years Time