Pittsburgh’s dark-pop quartet Dinosoul takes experimental-indie to the next level, mixing synth, reverb and delay-heavy guitar riffs with emotional vocals and health and wellness. Yes, that’s right. Band founder Donny Donovan is also a health, wellness and fitness coach, and Dinosoul offers a mission statement at its shows that asks “the universe to allow it to connect to the souls who need to be touched.”
A music venue is a strange place to be in the middle of the day. A club is designed for the nighttime, with its dark walls, ceilings and stages meant to be illuminated not by the sun but by bright lights, coming alive when bodies are in the room and music is in the air.
This is true at The Ante Room, where, on a sunny Thursday, Jeyon Falsini sits in an office chair, wearing jeans and a black and white T-shirt bearing the logo of Richmond hip-hop collective Gritty City Records. Falsini crosses his arms and tips back in his chair.
“It’s been fun,” he says, looking around the room at the roulette wheel painted on the wall and the bathroom doors painted to look like king and queen playing cards. “It’d have been six years in July.”
The Ante Room will close on March 31, after an All Bets Are Off party. The building is set to be demolished this summer, along with the Main Street Arena ice rink and the iconic Charlottesville gay bar and bohemian hangout, Escafé. A retail and commercial office development, CODE (Center of Developing Entrepreneurs), will be built on the space that has held some of Charlottesville’s most vibrant and diverse cultural spots.
“It’s hard to think past unscrewing all these screws, taking all this stuff down,” especially after putting years of work into the place, Falsini says. But he has a request for those who have enjoyed the venue in its five years and nine months in business at 219 W. Water St.: “Say a little prayer, however you do it,” because he’s looking for a new space to keep the venue’s spirit going.
And it’s important that he does, say area musicians. “No one in Charlottesville [is] more supportive of local music than Jeyon,” says Nate Bolling, a chamber pop and rock musician who’s run sound and taken the stage at The Ante Room dozens of times.
Remy St. Clair, a Charlottesville hip-hop artist and frequent Ante Room event host, says, “We are losing a home when it comes to urban music and art.”
Falsini got his start booking music at Atomic Burrito in the early 2000s, and eventually started his own company, Magnus Music, booking talent for restaurant-bars like The Whiskey Jar and Rapture and some local wineries and breweries. He opened The Ante Room (initially called The Annex) in July 2012 so that he could put together multi-act bills that would draw attention to the music itself.
Local musicians and music fans will tell you that The Ante Room has one of the most, if not the most, inclusive show calendars in town. Falsini books hip-hop, Americana singer-songwriters, alternative rock, moody rock, goth, new wave, metal, experimental electronic, jam bands, Afrobeat, go-go; salsa dance nights and Indian dance parties; karaoke nights and rap-centric social affairs. He’s served beers to curlers and hockey players who venture upstairs after games at the arena, too.
In particular, The Ante Room has been a haven for the hip-hop and metal scenes, two genres that are often unfairly stereotyped by—and thus not booked at—many venues in Charlottesville. Falsini says yes to both. There’s no reason not to, he says.
“The Ante Room was a welcoming place to genres that mainstream Charlottesville doesn’t seem to value,” says Kim Dylla, Fulton Ave. heavy metal vocalist. Recognizing various genres of music and cultures is an acknowledgment of “diversity of thought,” she says, something Dylla feels The Ante Room has supported more than other local venues.
Travis Thatcher, an electronic musician, agrees. He says The Ante Room has been “a really inclusive space that was kind of up for anything,” including his Frequencies experimental music series.
Falsini is quick to credit small DIY venues like Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar, Magnolia House and Trash House, which also welcome a wide variety of music. The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative and Champion Brewing Company host occasional shows, as does La Patrona, newly open in the former Outback Lodge space on Preston Avenue. Falsini also hopes that the larger venues in town will begin to see the value of booking a wider variety of genres.
“If there’s one [good] thing that’s happening…with two nightlife spots closing,” people are dispersing and going elsewhere, Falsini says. “Other local businesses will be fortunate enough to meet our customers.”
Much is still up in the air about the next iteration of The Ante Room, but Falsini’s hustling to find the right spot. He’ll book the same variety of genres, but it’s unlikely that his new venue would be downtown. “Wherever it is, we’ll have to blaze new territory,” says Falsini.
And he’s fine with that—it’s what he did with The Ante Room, after all, and the music community has benefited from his wager.
“We can’t give up now,” says Falsini. He’s all in.
Psychedelic, space-rock band Ruckzuck finds its unique sound through pulsing synths, fuzzy riffs and, at times, dark but entrancing lyrics that drive the three-piece’s soundscapes. Hailing from the mountains of Pennsylvania, the group’s name has numerous meanings, all of them having to do with moving forward and moving fast—a perfect title for this progressive, futuristic band that writes, produces and records its own music.
When the six-piece band The Apache Relay quietly ended, brothers Michael and Ben Ford decided to work as a duo, and Airpark was born. One year later, the siblings are creating forward-thinking pop music, mixing vocal harmonies with minimal instrumentation manifested in emotional vibes that target both the ears and the feet.
Last April, J.R. Brown stepped onto the wooden stage at the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center and looked out at the small-ish audience that had gathered in the auditorium. With the house lights on, he could see everyone’s faces. All of their eyes—and ears—were on him. He was nervous. He closed his eyes.
The 17-year-old had rapped plenty of times between classes in the breezeway at Albemarle High School, where his fellow students could hear him, but this was different. This was a performance, meant to impress not only a bunch of strangers but a handful of leaders of Charlottesville’s hip-hop scene who were judging the competition.
“Once I spit two bars, I just flowed out and opened my eyes,” says Brown, who goes by the moniker Zeus4K. He got comfortable quickly, spitting rhymes about the ample life he’s lived so far—about family, taking wrong turns, his frustration with how some people are “poppin’ Trayvons” while others are “poppin’ bottles,” about his hopes for his future.
“Life ain’t easy, it’s just crazy as it seems / Living life of hard knocks, of broken hearts and broken dreams. / …Going through a struggle really ain’t a bad thing / Because it made me rhyme harder, gotta get my diamond ring,” he spit a cappella, no beats to fall back on, just his flow.
Rugged Arts Hip-Hop Showcase
Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar
September 29
Brown was born in the Charlottesville area and moved to Hampton, Virginia, with his mom, his stepdad and three siblings when he was about 8. As a kid, he was diagnosed with a heart condition and couldn’t play sports, which meant no more basketball with his boys at the neighborhood park until the streetlights came on. His mom and stepdad worked three jobs between them, but money was still tight—sometimes the water or lights were turned off. He was bullied by his peers for lacking the latest fly gear. “I’m not saying I had it the worst, but I didn’t have it the best, either,” he says. That “broken heart” he rapped about on the Jefferson School stage is real, in more ways than one.
Inspired by Nas’ “I Can,” he started writing his own music when he was about 12 or 13. “Any time I was messed up in the head, I would put on some tunes,” he says. Nas, Method Man, Wu-Tang Clan, Jeezy. Freestyling over classic beats (especially the Wu-Tang/RZA “Ice Cream” beat) was his release. He noticed that any time he focused on music, he stayed out of trouble, but too often, he says, he lost sight of the music.
Eventually, Brown was suspended from school for fighting. His family knew him as a shy kid who was a good student and they lectured him: “This isn’t you. This isn’t you.” He promised to change, and when he didn’t change, his mom brought him to live with his dad in Albemarle County last year.
“I’m always going to progressively grow up, but right then and there, I [realized] I had to get my shit together,” Brown says. He kept thinking about music, about how his friends would say things like, “I’d kill to have your talent,” and “You’re nice with your music. Why don’t you just stick with the music?” So when he got to Albemarle, that’s what he did. He started rapping in the breezeway and signed up for—and won—the Nine Pillars high school rap competition.
That night, “everyone really listened to me,” he says. “Even though it wasn’t a humongous crowd, it’s just something I love doing. …Music is everything to me. It was a real game-changer.”
One person listening closely that night was Doughman, a local producer and engineer who served as a judge for the competition. Struck by the young MC’s a cappella performance (a rarity in the hip-hop world), by the resonance and rhythm of his voice and the content of his lyrics, Doughman knew immediately that Brown was his top pick.
Along with bragging rights, Brown won a small trophy, a set of Beats By Dre headphones and two hours of studio time with Doughman. He laid down two tracks during those two hours, and is now working on two EPs with the producer. He’s appeared on Remy St. Clair’s “The Throne Room” show on 101Jamz and in August performed at the Rugged Arts Hip-hop Showcase at Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar. He’ll perform at the September edition of Rugged Arts this Friday.
“Life is rough, and you can choose to make it better, or not,” Brown says, noting that since he started focusing on music, his grades have improved and he’s stopped fighting. “Music is such a blessing for everybody,” he says. “Music gives people opportunities to say whatever they want,” and right now, Brown is happy to have that opportunity.
Last spring, J.R. Brown signed up for the Nine Pillars Hip-Hop Cultural Fest’s high school hip-hop showcase, and when he did, he needed a stage name (J.R. wasn’t going to cut it). So he thought about how music makes him feel: like a god. In Greek mythology, Zeus is the god of the sky and ruler of the gods—the gods’ god, if you will—so that was a no-brainer for Brown. At the time, he had 4,000 followers on Instagram, so he added “4K” to get Zeus4K. Plus, he says, the number four pays homage to Charlottesville’s 434 area code.
Improvisation on viola, atmospheric cello and lush acoustics fill a unique bill of songwriters: Touring veteran Dina Maccabee (violinist, violist and vocalist) loops depth, space and complexity into the songs from her new album, The World is in the Work. Cellist, vocalist and composer Janel Leppin applies extensive classical training to her diverse collaborations and solo work, with more than 25 studio albums to her credit. And Juliana Daugherty, a member of both Nettles and The Hill and Wood, performs an alluring set of acoustic songs.
It’s a gray Sunday evening, 50-something degrees and drizzling when The Beetnix step onto the outdoor stage at IX Art Park. It’s been raining all day, but a crowd of more than 100 has gathered on the graffiti-painted concrete ground in front of the stage. Many of them hold their phones and tablets in the air, precipitation be damned, ready to capture Charlottesville’s most legendary hip-hop duo on video.
“Come closer,” Damani “Glitch One” Harrison says to the crowd as he picks up a mic. With his arms stretched out wide, Louis “Waterloo” Hampton beckons for everyone to move in closer.
For Harrison, 39, hip-hop has been part of his life since he was a kid. A military brat who grew up in Germany and Philadelphia, he remembers exactly where he was when the music caught him.
During his interactive, choose-your-own-adventure techno-rap show, Gavin Riley might drop his audience into a video-animated scenario about soft serve ice cream. When a video bully asks him if he wants to ditch his swirly cone for a drug called jazz, Riley’s audience can choose his reply: “Get jazzed up!” or “Just say no!” and Riley continues the rap accordingly. Also on the bill are Jay Plus, who dials up earth-tone techno soundtracks, and Tanson, who provides optimistic New Age soul healing for cyborgs.
Moody times call for moody tunes. Locally stacked triple bill The Lightmare Before Christmas featuring the darkwave of Jaquardini speaks volumes to our need for something darker than the blues with the cathartic space beats of This Hollow Machine and the Brickbats’ Corey Gorey in a goth solo set.
Saturday, December 10. $7, 9pm. Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar, 414 E. Main St., Downtown Mall. 293-9947.
The four members of post-rock band Woods Running are about halfway through a pot of mint tea at Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar when they catch the eye of a bearded, ponytailed man sitting at the next table.
“Hey guys! I thought that was you,” the man says with enthusiasm. “When’s your next show?”
December 9, they tell him, at The Ante Room.
“Sweet,” he replies. His own band’s show for that night got canceled, so he’ll catch their set instead. “You guys rock. Let’s play a show together soon,” he says, before turning back to his own mug of tea.
“That guy’s in a band here in town,” Jacob Sommerio, who plays guitar in Woods Running, tells me in a lowered voice, before promptly freaking out with his bandmates. For Sommerio and his bandmates—guitarist Jake Pierce, bassist Aaron Richards and drummer Benjamin Snell—there’s a huge thrill in being recognized as musicians.
One, they’ve only been writing music for a year and a half, and playing shows for even less time.
Two, all of them are in high school. Sommerio and Pierce attend Albemarle High, and Richards and Snell are part of the same homeschooling collective. They began playing music together about four years ago, at first getting together for jam sessions via their youth group at Maple Grove Christian Church.
“Normal teenagers want to go to the mall to hang out; we just want to hang out in Ben’s basement and jam,” says Richards. “[But] we’re definitely not your typical teenage garage band.”
And he’s right. Woods Running’s ambient post-rock is devoid of the punky, chunky power chords and angst-ridden lyrics that you’d expect adolescents to write. The band’s sets are entirely instrumental; no words at all. “It’s a different feeling from other music,” Sommerio says. “My grandpa is always asking, ‘What are you doing, making up all those songs? That’s not what a guitar sounds like.’”
“It’s an emotional soundtrack,” Pierce says, one that explores the landscape of sonic time and space, allowing these four musicians to discover the overall feeling of a piece as it’s written.
The band wrote its first song, “Eleanor,” in about 30 minutes, just so Snell’s older brother (who is a member of indie-folk band Rain Tree) could make a live session parody video. It’s named after a friend’s 1991 baby blue Cadillac that had driven its final mile a few days before. That first take, the bandmates say, was “terrible, awful,” but they’ve refined it into a thoughtful song that starts off with straightforward, fingerpicked guitar and swells gently into an airy, reverb-y atmosphere not unlike the sideways shoreline sunset that graces the band’s Preface EP cover.
The EP’s other tracks, “Harmony of Inhibitions,” “Father of Lights” and “Swift and Certain,” with its reverb-drenched guitar parts, simmering drum beats under shimmering cymbals and full, deep bass, are fuller and more unexpected, demonstrating a level of confident, emotionally expansive and sensitive musicianship that sounds wise beyond the band’s adolescent years.
So far, all Woods Running songs have been written accidentally. “Seriously, nothing is intentional,” at least not at first, Sommerio says. “We’ll play, feel it out, then run through it again. It’s evolving every time,” Sommerio says of the process.
The band knows it has something good to work with when its members look at each other with “What the heck did we just do?!” expressions on their faces. Once, Pierce locked himself in the bathroom to freak out about a song. Other times, the band will run screaming from the room, or jump on a bed.
Preface was created with a “let’s make some dope songs and put it out there” attitude, they say; they recorded four tracks in Snell’s parents’ basement using Logic Pro.
The band’s new material, which the guys are currently recording at the Music Resource Center (Sommerio and Snell are budding audio engineers), is more intentional. Now, each time they run through a “freak-out song,” as they say, they stop to work out each section. They’re playing with structure, paying attention to loudness and quiet. They’re exploring the heavy, the light and the sonic and emotional sound and space that exists between the two.
“We’re pushing ourselves, trying to find our niche,” Pierce says.
They all admit to getting a bit nervous before shows; they’re still learning how to feel as comfortable on stage as they do in the Snell family basement.
“There are definitely moments [during shows] where you realize it’s all coming together and this is what we wanted it to sound like,” says Pierce, who has a penchant for playing with such urgency that he’ll break a string and have to finish out the set with guitars borrowed from other bands on the bill.
Local audiences are responding well. So well, in fact, that less than a year after Woods Running debuted at Maple Grove, the band has played the Tea Bazaar twice and will open for Girl Choir and Matt Curreri & The Exfriends at The Ante Room on Friday.
Snell says the band never intended to perform for audiences, but Will Mullany, who books DIY shows for Milli Coffee Roasters, reached out, and from there, other local bands and bookers started inviting Woods Running onto bills.
When asked why they play music in the first place, the guys joke about only being able to play so much Minecraft, disliking sports, having no interest in Model UN and wanting to do something that sets them apart from their peers. But then Snell deadpans, “What else would we be doing?,” and the group smirks and nods in agreement before taking another sip of mint tea.