Author: jamesford

The Scottish band Mogwai debuted in the mid-’90s with a handful of albums and EPs of anthemic experimental rock, characterized by gorgeous, hypnotic guitar lines that would continue for minutes on end before exploding into lengthy crescendos of crushing intensity. Its songs largely eschewed traditional verse/chorus structures or discernible lyrics, instead favoring barely-intelligible recordings of phone conversations, TV noise, or occasionally half-mumbled monologues courtesy of Arab Strap’s Aidan Moffat or the band’s own Stuart Braithwaite. For the most part the soaring, ear-bleeding guitar parts spoke for themselves.

Such intense and expressive music can inspire feverish devotion among followers, but one of the secrets of Mogwai’s longevity is that it remains hesitant to repeat a successful formula. In fact, many other groups seem far more enthusiastic about revising the band’s past glories than Mogwai itself—imitators such as Japan’s Mono and Texas’ Explosions in the Sky have seemingly based entire careers on manufacturing carbon copies of Mogwai’s 1997 classic Young Team and its’ album-closing 16-minute epic, “Mogwai Fear Satan.”

Mogwai seemingly perfected this formula with 2001’s My Father, My King, a 20-minute EP based entirely on repeating the same guitar riff (a melody taken from a traditional Jewish hymn) with gradually increasing degrees of volume, beginning as a gentle lullaby and ending in deafening white noise.

Over the past decade, Mogwai’s music has changed considerably. While the group is happy to occasionally revisit the style its fans love most (the soundtrack to the Douglas Gordon documentary about French footballer Zinedane Zidane is superb, if predictable), its just as likely to turn out something like 2008’s The Hawk is Howling, a collection of punchy, no-nonsense instrumentals whose combination of heavy riffs and studio polish recall the prime of the grunge era (appropriately, Mogwai is now distributed in the U.S. by the Sub Pop label, the original home of Nirvana).

Mogwai seems to need to reinvent itself, to re-think both the content of its music and the way its perceived. On recent albums, the group has grown more concise, dense, and playful. It has narrowed its scope but broadened its palette—while the songs rarely surpass six minutes, they increasingly include electronic textures, orchestral accompaniment, and auto-tuned vocals alongside the driving guitar melodies.

While early contemporaries like Godspeed You! Black Emperor portrayed themselves as mysterious, reclusive, somber chroniclers of the decay of human civilization, the chaps in Mogwai seem like their primary non-musical concerns consist of heading down to the pub to catch the match over a pint and a larf. The album and song titles have gone from puzzling and cryptic to deliberately ridiculous: The latest full-length, 2011’s Hardcore Will Never Die But You Will, features tracks entitled “How to Be a Werewolf” and “You’re Lionel Ritchie” (declared by one severely intoxicated band member foolishly upon unexpectedly encountering the titular singer at Heathrow Airport).

“I think the juxtaposition of the less serious titles and the brutally serious music is a good one,” Braithwaite said. “Loads of the people who hear the record will have a completely different view of what it means. I like that too.”

Mogwai will appear at the Jefferson Theater on Sunday, June 10, supported by the young Pennsylvania-based beatmaker Balam Acab. It’s the band’s second appearance in Charlottesville, after a gig at Satellite Ballroom in 2006. Redlight Management’s Danny Shea, who booked both concerts, said he has high hopes for Sunday. “At the Satellite show, they definitely had respect for the limitations of the sound system there,” Shea said. “I caught them at South By Southwest on the same tour and they were much louder.” Shea predicts the Jefferson show will strike the right balance of quality and volume: “If you think you heard Mogwai at the Satellite, you should come to this show and really hear them.” The use of earplugs is advised.

Hip-hop is one of the most commercially dominant musical genres of the past 20 years. One reason that it continues to capture our collective consciousness is that hip-hop has always been connected to aspiration—from the mid-’70s Bronx block parties thrown by kids who were too young and too poor to gain access to the fancy Manhattan discos, through the current chart-topping pop thugs telling tall tales of their journey from the streets to a life of fame and success. Hip-hop is about dreaming big, but the flip side is that it’s also about resourcefulness—about making do with whatever’s at your disposal: your parents’ soul records, a cheap drum machine, and a homemade recording studio cobbled together in a bedroom, a basement, or a closet.

Hip-hop turns 39 years old this summer, and has inspired multiple generations around the world. Virginia, of course, is no different—names like the Beetnix, Q*Black of the Illville Crew, and the Unspoken Heard will be familiar to local hip-hop heads, and there are dozens of rappers hoping to start their careers with a mixtape and a MySpace page.

In a 2008 interview in these pages, UVA sociology graduate Carey Sargent noted that young musicians, and rappers in particular, are increasingly savvy at self-promotion and social media, despite the fact that Charlottesville offers so few venues for live hip-hop. Hitmakers on national tours appear at the Arena, the Pavilion or the Jefferson, but following a rash of episodes outside local hip-hop shows over the past few years, most won’t open their doors to rappers for fear of inviting an incident. With few live options, it’s no surprise that young rappers and beat makers are turning to the web and to each other to get their tracks heard.
Much of Virginia’s hip-hop remains undocumented and unheard by a wider audience, but DC-based photographer Jared Soares is working to change that. His project “Small Town Hip-Hop in Virginia” is a straight-forward documentation of the Roanoke hip-hop scene as important for what it captures, as it is for Soares’ considerable skill behind the camera. Scallycapped young men gather in living rooms, on porches, and in parking lots, smiling and at ease, and rarely without a notebook in hand. There’s an overwhelming sense of community in the photographs, a joy in creativity and communal solidarity, mixed with the mundanity of day-to-day life in the South and the sweat of hard work on a labor of love. The young men in these photographs have a sense of self-presentation, but Soares has the disarming ability to capture them in a way that feels honest and inviting. We are simultaneously seeing them as they are, and as they would like themselves to appear.

The one seemingly out-of-place image features a woman’s thonged derriere perched on a pool table—but the photograph is made knowingly funny by the lighting equipment and electrical cables around the perimeter. The photograph itself isn’t a gratuitous display of sexuality, but a casual document of a moment being carefully composed, an unflinching document of the way in which these men see the world. That world has many other facets, and throughout the exhibit other details stick with you; a gold necklace with a tiny pair of praying hands, a father hugging his children on a suburban street, and a shot of several of the rappers donning tuxedos before a wedding.

Soares’ work has garnered positive notices, including some high-profile praise from the New York Times. For the month of June, The Bridge PAI will have “Small-Town Hip-Hop” on display, concurrent with the LOOK3 Photography festival. In addition to giving the photographs greater exposure, the June 1 opening reception will include a Roanoke/Charlottesville Connect Hip-Hop Showcase, in which Roanoke-based rappers Palmz, Oxy Neutron, and Red Rum Eastwood will join locals Griff, J-Willz, and the Beetnix for a night of live entertainment, hosted by DJ Neili Neil.

Look ahead
LOOK3, Charlottesville’s photography festival, won’t formally begin until June 6, but there are plenty of events to whet your appetite in the week beforehand, as galleries begin exhibiting the work of the festival’s photographers beginning on Friday, June 1. The McGuffey Art Center will display work by Donna Ferrato and Lynsey Addario, Second Street Gallery hosts Alex Webb, and Camille Seaman’s photographs of icebergs will be on display at Chroma Workshop. The Warm Springs Gallery will show Robin Schwarz’s inter-species portraiture, and David Doubilet’s animal photography is already visible on the banners overlooking the Downtown Mall. The festival’s passes may be sold out, but plenty of world-class photography will be accessible to the public throughout the month.

Charlottesville has no shortage of art; the Downtown area is packed with galleries and concert venues, the McGuffey studios are a prominent landmark, and many restaurants and coffee shops provide venues for local creators.

But as pervasive as Charlottesville’s art scene may seem, it doesn’t reach everyone. Arts education has been declining nationally for years, and access to the arts is limited everywhere, particularly for low-income children. Studies have shown that a child’s exposure to art has a significant effect on cognitive development, social engagement and career potential. This is one reason why, in a town full of arts organizations, the mission of the Piedmont Council for the Arts is particularly relevant.

Arts education is part of the PCA’s broad program, encompassing everything from painting and opera, to slam poetry, noise bands, and quilting exhibitions. In the words of Executive Director Sarah Lawson, the organization “serves as a unifying force, bringing together artists, organizations, and people who are interested in the arts.” They partner with artists and member organizations, and the list reads like a who’s-who of Charlottesville arts. ”

Spring for the Arts, PCA’s annual fundraiser, takes place on Wednesday and features a silent auction with works by Dean Dass, John Borden Evans, and Kristin Reiber Harris, as well as live performances by Beleza and the Charlottesville Ballet. “The atmosphere is something like a cocktail party, but better,” says Communications Director Victoria Long. On display will be photographs from the recent Arts Inspire workshop, “Natural Sculptures,” led by local artist Patrick Costello. Student participants spent an afternoon with Costello, constructing sculptures out of natural materials. When asked if it was difficult to interest students in the sculpture, he explained, “I was actually more worried about whether the adults in the class would be into it. Kids have fewer boundaries, so they’re far less hesitant to take materials as they are, and transform them into sculpture through intention. When we’re older, we need a context for that, to see it as legitimate. But the kids would take trash, blades of grass, and sticks—the rest of us might be frustrated by the impermanence of that, but the kids were happy just to be creating something.”

And the beat goes on…and on
Oneida is one of the more restlessly inventive rock bands of the past 15 years. Its copious discography ranges from the catchy, string-quartet inflected indie-folk of The Wedding to the sprawling triple-album Rated O, whose lengthy tracks included dubbed-out beat experiments, epic psychedelic trips, and thrashing post-punk anthems. The band has solidified its reputation through a series of ecstatic, energetic live performances.

My first exposure to Oneida was in the basement of Tokyo Rose in the summer of ’02. The set began with “Sheets of Easter.” The singer mumbled, “You’ve got to look into the light,” and suddenly the band launched into a rapid, energetic barrage, in which a single chord, pounding beat, and the constant chant of “Light! Light! Light! Light!” were repeated in perfect synchronization, without variation. At first it seemed like a provocation, but the abrasion turned to awe as the band continued to pound that same note over and over and over again. I wondered how long the band could continue—and how long we would listen—as the whole thing was too hypnotically exciting for either party to give up the ecstatic musical staring contest. They played that same chord for well over 15 minutes. After this initial, exhausting mind-clearer, Oneida easily filled the rest of the set with wild psychedelic punk.

One of Oneida’s secret weapons is the phenomenal drummer known as Kid Millions. He’s now touring with his solo project Man Forever, collaborating with a different set of musicians at each tour stop. When he takes the stage on Tuesday at The Southern, the band members joining him on stage will include Mike Gangloff, Nathaniel Bowles, John Harouff, and Mark Shue, and their set consists of a single song. (Great Dads and the Plums open.) Dave Halstead, publicist for Thrill Jockey Records notes, “The actual track on the record is 18-plus minutes long and in the live setting they typically stretch for 30 to 40 minutes to achieve maximum transcendental effect. It’s quite the feat of stamina for the drummers.”

Rock and roll, and its redneck cousin rockabilly, have long been associated with the spooky and the undead, from the 1950s recordings by weirdos like Hasil Adkins and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins through late-’70s revivalists like The Cramps and The Misfits, who spawned an entire subgenre and solidified a permanent association between Halloweenish subject matter and lowbrow punk rock. It’s probably possible to find traces of psycho-billy in any town if you look carefully enough; it’s practically a folk art, at this point. I’m pleased to report, however, that the Charlottesville chapter of the undead retro rock craze is far better than one might expect. The Rock ‘N’ Roll Cannibals may write songs about voodoo priests and the wolf man, but believe it or not, these are actually some of the best songs coming out of Charlottesville right now. Their shtick may not be anything new, but they pull it off almost perfectly.

The Rock ’N’ Roll Cannibals are the fiendish creation of Tristan Thorndyke, who’s been playing under that name with various sidemen over the past few years. He’s currently backed by Morgan Moran of the Falsies on drums; Danny Price plays upright bass (and takes a turn or two on the mic). Their debut album, Blood & Pomade, is remarkably pure in its dedication to the rockabilly sound; perhaps there’s slightly less reverb than you’d find on a vintage ’50s cut, but there’s none of the distortion, speed, or sloppiness that characterize most punk and garage bands. They sound more like Jerry Lee Lewis at the juke joint than the Ramones hanging out on 53rd and 3rd. Were it not for the monster movie subject matter, this could almost pass for a Gene Vincent record.

The self-explanatory “I Really Wanna Rock’n’Roll Tonight” kicks things off with a honky-tonk chug and a chorus of rapid fire ba-ba-ba-ba-bop’s worthy of the Trashmen. On “Monster in My Pocket” and “Run Back to Your Ma,” Thorndyke gleefully revels in his bad boy persona, and remains roguishly charming even when things get gory. “Dancing With the Devil” provides a more fitting mission statement, “Gonna drink some beer, gonna smoke some bud / gonna drink some Christian virgin blood / gonna dance, dance, dance with the devil in the pale moonlight.” This record is as fun (and as classic) as a rubber Halloween mask, with all of the guilty pleasure of trick-or-treating past the appropriate age.

“Mummified” is a clear highlight, a midtempo surf groove with effortlessly clever lyrics about a mummy girlfriend. The innovation here is not in the form, but in the attitude and attention to detail. The subject matter is a trip through the shallow grave of the usual tropes ripped straight from the pages of Teen Romance and EC Comics (best song title: “Rebel Without a Pulse”) but the near flawless execution is what makes it memorable.

However, any effort this thoroughly dedicated to juvenilia is bound to misstep eventually; the would-be shock humor of “A Modest Proposal” is meant to induce dropped jaws and faint hearts—the lyrics detail, with cartoonish glee, various recipes for cooking babies—but the response is closer to a pair of rolled eyeballs. Likewise, the albums’ hidden track, “Gay Robots (from the Future)” is an embarrassing bit of Internet-era goofery. As with even the greatest drive-in B movie, there’s still a bit of schlock to suffer through before you get to the good bits.

The good bits are more than worth it. It may sound silly to suggest that “Oh, Frankenstein” is one of the best ballads I’ve heard in years, but you’ll only be laughing if you haven’t been infected yet. Thorndyke sings as the famous monster, begging his creator for a bride, preferably one with bolts in her neck and a haircut that points to the ceiling, “I need a girl to keep me company / I need a girl with a frontal lobotomy.” Somehow the poor taste almost makes it more compelling. Wearing your heart on your sleeve is an easy recipe for musical embarrassment (and so is goofy subject matter) but when the song in question is entitled “Oh, Frankenstein,” moments of unexpected poignancy can be surprisingly effective.

There’s something thrillingly unselfconscious about the Rock ‘N’ Roll Cannibals —Thorndyke seems like the kind of guy to whom it wouldn’t occur to not write songs about werewolves. It may sound odd to praise a record like this for its lack of affectation, but there’s a dedication here that would be hard to fake for anyone who hadn’t spent time immersed in the works of Sun Studios and Hammer Horror. They make no apologies for being a scumbag rockabilly band, and their sheer enthusiasm makes it hard to resist. It’s tough to level accusations of poor taste at a group when poor taste is one of their stated goals, and it doesn’t hurt that they happen to be really good at it. The Cannibals have more than enough charm and dedication to their craft to make Blood & Pomade worth a listen.

Spurred on by the success of their Nelson County-based festival, the Festy organizers are now spreading out the atmos-phere with events through-out the year. On Saturday, The Infamous Stringdusters, curators of The Festy, will headline a concert at the Pavilion, along with country-rockers Sons of Bill and Sarah White & the Pearls. The event is sponsored by Blue Ridge Mountain Sports, marking an impressive 40 years of business in Charlottesville. The cover charge is a mere $2.50 in advance, all of which will be donated to the Big Brothers, Big Sisters of the Central Blue Ridge.

From church to tea to garage to whiskey to ice
Also this weekend, several other Downtown venues will open their doors for the nascent Tom Tom Founders Festival, an unrelated event that marks the culmination of a month of smaller events that began with a well-attended block party outside the McGuffey Art Center. The Tom Tom roster is a lengthy one, with too many acts to discuss in detail, but there are several highlights worth mentioning.

In addition to headliners The Walkmen, the Main Street Arena (still colloquially known to many as “the ice park”) will host local rockers Red Rattles and Dwight Howard Johnson, while late nights see the venue convert to an electronic stage featuring the house music of AutoErotique, the lush synths of Virtual Boy and MiMOSA, and the dreamy instrumental hip-hop of superb Brooklyn-based producer Eliot Lipp.

The Haven, a former church with excellent acoustics, will make an interesting venue for the tough-chick country-punk of Those Darlins and the nervous indie-pop of Here We Go Magic, two of the performances restricted due to limited seating capacity. Casual attendees will still be able to catch other Haven performances, including formerly local troubadours BirdLips and the No BS! Brass Band.

And while Invisible Hand is usually a four-piece rock act, eclectic frontman Adam Smith has something else in mind for Saturday night’s post-midnight Haven performance: a “guitar orchestra” reminiscent of experimental composers Rhys Chatham and Glenn Branca, featuring “two drummers, one or two bassists, and as many guitars as we can get,” playing a dissonant piece Smith composed for the event, inspired by Igor Stravinsky’s “Augurs of Spring.”

Those looking for traditional rock are advised to investigate Friday night at Random Row Books, featuring three of the strongest rock acts plying their trade in Charlottesville; The Fire Tapes, Infinite Jets, and Left & Right, which will release an album at the show. An impressive feat for a band whose members still include UVA undergraduates.

The Whiskey Jar will host a solid line-up of country-flavored rock acts on both Friday and Saturday nights with Mister Baby, PantherBurn, and Chamomile & Whiskey, spiced up by mellower appearances by Nelly Kate and Phillip St. Ours.

The Garage has often been a home to a particular strain of Americana over the years. Several such acts will play to a larger crowd at Meade Hall in Christ Episcopal Church, the organization who allowed their garage to become “The Garage” in the first place. Meade Hall will host The Hill & Wood, Sanders Bohlke, Spirit Family Reunion, Diane Cluck, Small Sur, and Deleted Scenes, while Carl Anderson, Hope for Agoldensummer, and Due Diligence are among the acts playing to an outdoor audience in the Garage itself.

The Tea Bazaar’s small stage has been a crucial part of live music in Charlottesville over the past decade. The line-up there is varied, beginning on Friday evening with gentle mountain man Erik the Red, and concluding Saturday night with the taut jangle-rock of Roanoke’s Eternal Summers. The Tea Bazaar’s history of eclecticism is evident with Red sharing the bill with Baltimore aggro-math-punks Dope Body, Jenny Besetzt, Ming Ming, and Birdie Busch over the course of the weekend.

This being the inaugural year for the Tom Tom Founders Festival, it’s too early to say whether it has the potential for longevity or durability. But it’s clear that it has already succeeded in one regard: The weekend is packed with dozens of performers, all playing within the space of a few city blocks. Since most contemporary music festivals require a day of driving, a plan for parking and camping, and personal challenges ranging from endurance to hydration, the scattershot approach of the Tom Tom Festival—decentralized, yet closely-knit—may represent an appealing alternative. Whether you’re a die-hard festival lifer who plans to go in for the All Access Pass, or a curious passerby whose interest is piqued, it won’t be difficult to find a good concert in Downtown Charlottesville this weekend.

Charlottesville has long been a delicious melting pot of bluegrass, rock, and alt-country, and the number of high-quality performers here seems as good as it’s ever been: so it was only a matter of time before a crop of local labels sprung up to give these musicians a home. Since launching in February of this year, Countywide Records has released albums by Chamomile & Whiskey and PantherBurn, and is currently preparing to release the Great Big Fire Show, the sophomore album from Mister Baby.

The launch of the label saw a series of listening parties at the Blue Moon Diner, followed up by formal CD releases at the Southern weeks later—fitting venues for these groups, as they have each hosted dozens of similar homegrown acts from around the country in recent years. And considering that Mister Baby and PantherBurn shared a drummer, and sprouted from the same fertile soil of Charlottesville’s roots music community, the Countywide label feels less like a newcomer and more like a natural outgrowth of what’s been going on here for years.

The listening party at Blue Moon on April 28 reflects this sense of community as well. Rather than just a traditional airing of the recorded album, Mister Baby’s friends and musical family will gather to play covers of the album’s yet-unreleased songs, along with their own original material. The line-up includes Phillip and Bobby St. Ours, Micheax Hood, and Sally Rose—and would be strong enough to attract a crowd on any occasion. Meg Huddleston, front woman and songwriter behind Mister Baby, confesses “the thing that I’m looking forward to most is Thomas and Evie Evans, the kids of Rob Evans (who recorded and mixed Great Big Fire Show). They’re slated to play first, since they are little children and will need to go to bed! I plan to cry throughout their performance.”

Mister Baby isn’t formally scheduled to perform on the 28th—they’re saving that for the album’s formal release on June 2 at the Southern—but Blue Moon’s Laura Galgano wouldn’t rule out a surprise set. “PantherBurn ended up playing at the end of their own listening party, just because they were so excited about it. And then the folks from Chamomile & Whiskey ended up getting up there at the end of their show, too.” With so many musicians sharing each others’ music, fruitful musical crossbreeding seems both inevitable and wonderful.

Acorn lobby
It’s almost impossible to discuss Charlottesville’s Americana scene without mentioning Sarah White. The Charlottesville-based musician has been effortlessly mixing folk, rock, and country for years now, with the most recent incarnation of her backing band, the Pearls, being her most rock-oriented work since her mid-’90s band Miracle Penny. March saw the release of the Pearls’ first proper piece of vinyl, a 7" 45rpm chesnut entitled Married Life, which debuted on freshly minted local label, WarHen Records (so named for the founders, Warren Parker and Michael Hennigar). Sarah White and the Pearls play next at the Pavilion on May 12, supporting Sons of Bill and The Infamous Stringdusters.

These days, it’s not rare for White to play to a crowd of this size, as years of effort are now beginning to pay off. She is also known for playing smaller, more casual shows in her other band, the Acorn Sisters—or as their press has it, The (All-New) Acorn Sisters (apparently the original name was already taken by an obscure early-’60s hillbilly trio from Kentucky). Despite the shared band name, and the coy nicknaming as “Sugar” and “Cookie,” and a facetious claim to be siblings—these Acorn Sisters can be unmistakably identified as Sarah White and Sian Richards.

White’s knowledge of traditional American folk and gospel songs is considerable, and the Acorn Sisters provides an opportunity to play songs from that catalog. She grew up with these songs (one of the saddest in their set is written by her father), and her affection for the material is contagious, as she makes even the obscure deep cuts sound like familiar old favorites. Lobbying efforts to have the Carter Family’s “Longing for Old Virginia” recognized as the state song have thus far been unsuccessful (our Commonwealth has been without a proper anthem since the controversial “Carry Me Back to Old Virginny” was retired in 1997), but perhaps that’s only because the General Assembly has not yet heard the Acorn Sisters’ rendition.

Sian Richards, known in town for her theatrical performances and her involvement with CLAW, makes a crucial contribution to the group, with backing vocal harmonies that perfectly balance White’s. While Sarah White’s voice is beautiful and melancholy, Richards’ is a clear and wild counterpart. Richards also provides some of the funniest between-song stage banter in an unshakable deadpan.

Making a culinary contribution to local Americana, The Whiskey Jar opened its doors in February. The (All-New) Acorn Sisters will appear there on Thursday, and although this reporter has not yet had the opportunity to catch a live show there—I can, and will, vouch for the sweet potato dumplings—it’s the perfect setting for the Acorn Sisters’ old-timey goodness.