Fruit Bats Are Anything But ‘Absolute Losers’ At LA Show

Fruit Bats

Fruit Bats played Bootleg Theater Sep. 29, 2016; press photo

Over the course of five albums, Fruit Bats have perfected rootsy, feel-good, country-tinged pop, taking up the flame lit by the “cosmic American music” of Gram Parsons and his buddies. After a five-year hiatus, Eric Johnson and Co. came roaring back with Absolute Loser, which served as the anchor of their lengthy setlist at the Bootleg Theater.

“I hope you’re enjoying this assemblage of, uh, mid-tempo, uh, toe-tappers,” Johnson self-deprecatingly said to the packed crowd, after running through standouts off the new album, “Good Will Come To You,” “From A Soon-To-Be Ghost Town” and “My Sweet Midwest”.

Johnson, whose nasally voice perfectly crowns the sense of humor and authenticity that permeate his songs, hasn’t lost a step. His voice along with the accompanying harmonies, were locked in all night, over the length of a 21-song, two-hour+ set.

Though dressed in a wrinkly linen jacket, Johnson could probably get away with wearing a rhinestone Nudie suit, thanks to the Americana spirit and big-blue-sky guitar breaks that permeate Fruit Bats’ music.

“None of Us” was a highlight of the show’s first half. A gently-driving, warm breeze of song, that had Johnson singing to the spellbound patrons of his hope that all their “wishes come true,” was perfect for the intimate setting. Johnson, picking up on the good vibes explained, “I love playing at the Bootleg. I feel like we’re all at a cool party in some guy’s weird house.”

The rest of the set was a discography-jumping mix of old favorites and deeper cuts. The waltzing “Primitive Man” was one of the most graceful romps of the night, while the irresistible “Dolly” saw Johnson putting his guitar down so he could groove around with a tambourine. The band left the stage for a chill-inducing, bare-bones version of “Baby Bluebird,” that blew away the version on record, then returned for fan favorite, “You’re Too Weird.”

For the encore, Johnson was having such a good time he asked for some requests. He did a solo version of “Singing Joy To The World,” then brought the band back for “Born In The 70’s.” Closing out the night was the one-two punch of the thumping “Humbug Mountain Song” and their classic, “When U Love Somebody”. Fruit Bats left the crowd with more than they expected, and everything they wanted.

Bear Hands Bring “You’ll Pay For This” To SoCal

BEAR HANDS

BEAR HANDS play The Palladium Sep. 27 and Music Box Sep. 28; photo Nina Westervelt

In support of their new LP You’ll Pay For This, electro rockers Bear Hands will be playing The Palladium Sep. 27 and Music Box Sep. 28. The album continues the eclectic sound of 2014’s Distraction, which provided the band with their first radio hit, “Giants”, which finally pushed them into the hard won spotlight.

Coming up on their 10-year anniversary, the music has matured along with the band. Best encapsulated in the song “2AM”, a catchy rumination on growing up and not being able to party as hard, the inspiration for which vocalist and guitarist Dylan Rau claims is twofold.

“Ted [Feldman] and I wrote that when I had just turned 30, so obviously, that was weighing on my mind a little bit,” Rau said. “I’m also in a relationship with this really great girl that just started six months ago, and I hadn’t been with anybody for a long time before that. I think that definitely makes you think twice about needing to be at the bar every night.”

Aging pops up a few more times on the record, perhaps attributable to the band’s new stability. Years of working other jobs and struggling to scrape by has made their current success all the more sweet. When other bands with less resolve would have called it a day, Bear Hands hung tough.

“I’m proud of the fact that it’s been a gradual, incremental increase over the years,” Rau said. “There wasn’t really one moment or a big break where it was like, ‘Oh this is it. I don’t have to worry anymore.’ It’s been a slow burn and notches on the belt, opening bigger shows, headlining bigger shows, selling more records, getting played on the radio. You just build a little mountain of these things and hope that you’re proud of it at the end of the day.”

So what’s been the most rewarding thing about finally breaking through? Hearing your song on the radio? Playing to huge crowds that know all the words to your songs?

Bear hands

Bear Hands at The Observatory; photo Lauren Ratkowski

“Money is a good one,” Rau laughs. “Obviously, having fans face-to-face react to certain songs, or identifying moments or lyrics from the record that they specifically enjoy, that feels really good, too.”

Making it all this way with your buddies from college must feel pretty good, too. Rau and Feldman met at Wesleyan University in Connecticut before hooking up with bassist Val Loper and drummer RJ Orscher. Besides cutting their teeth on the local music scene (which included fellow Wesleyan students MGMT), Rau and Feldman, both studied film, a medium that informs Bear Hands to this day.

“Ted actually directed three of our videos, “Agora,” “What A Drag,” and “Crime Pays”,” Rau pointed out. “He’s definitely kept up his technical expertise in a way that I certainly haven’t, I’m more interested in the writing end of things. There’s a song on the new record called ‘Marathon Man,’ which is named after the Dustin Hoffman movie. Any time I see a good movie, my brain innately tries to connect it to a song or tries to steal one of the best lines. I’m always looking for things to harvest.”

Questioned about the inspiration behind another song on the album, “Winner’s Circle,” where Rau sings “I’m a piece of shit / it’s a point of pride / I’m the super rich complaining I want more in life,” he’s quick to cop to a less distinguished source.

“I remember I was reading a lot of US Weekly and Star Magazine at the time. When you’re doing something that trashy you at least try to get something out of it [laughs], and in my world that usually means writing a song.”

Bear Hands return Sep. 27 for a show with Foals at the Hollywood Palladium.

Freaks And Outsiders Gather For IAMX Shows

IAMX

IAMX play The Casbah Sep. 20, The Constellation Room Sep. 21 photo: Saryn Christina

Purveyor of “sinister synth,” IAMX (Chris Corner), return to The Casbah Sep. 20 and The Constellation Room Sep. 21. Fans can expect music from IAMX’s sixth album, Metanoia, a stunning visual show, and maybe even some cupcake-fueled revelry.

“There was a nice, buttery moment in Seattle when somebody brought a big pile of
cupcakes with ‘x’ marks, maybe 20 of them, and we smothered ourselves in cupcakes on stage.

“We forgot that butter is very slippery, so everybody just fell over and it was absolutely ridiculous, you couldn’t move on stage because it was so slippy. That was fun! And then we just smothered it on the crowd too so it was just like, a cupcake orgy.”

So what else might fans expect from an IAMX show? Corner’s setlist is still unformed.

“I often have a problem choosing because there’s so many songs now,” Corner said. “I think what I’m gonna try and do is base it on this new album, which is a good deal more electronic than the previous albums. It’s more purist and simple in its approach, so I’m going to take songs from the past that are more like that, and that are easier to translate into an electronic vibe. I can plan it as much as possible but once you actually get into rehearsal things will often just develop.”

However, Corner ensures a unique experience with stunning visuals that he creates
himself, and passionate crowds that are ready for a good time.

“There’s a lot of energy wherever we go. You get this release where people are just so hungry to connect with you on an outsider level. We get lots of freaks and outsiders that come to the show, which we love because we are freaks and outsiders.”

Metanoia, meaning a profound transformation or conversion, is a fitting name for the new album, considering Corner has changed his sound as well as his surroundings. A move from Berlin to LA had a profound effect on his state of mind and his music.

“I moved from Berlin mainly because of the dark, oppressive winters, and every time I found myself making an album in the winter, because I would tour during summer and spring,” Corner explained. “Whenever I had time to actually be creative it was always in a very dark and dreary period, so that was really getting me down.”

The new single, “Happiness” explores Corner’s journey through his lowest points, as well as his grapples with the corruption and hypocrisy of the music industry.

“It’s something that’s a recurring theme in my music because I think about it all the time, and it’s not something I can really, truly let go of,” Corner said. “This album is about the attempt to let go of that stuff. It’s about breaking things down, going through a period of despair, and then rebirth, and flourishing in something new.

“It’s like therapy. The whole album is about that. It’s about quite a dark period in my life a couple years ago. I went through a lot of depression and I had really bad insomnia, so it describes that process and how you can turn that around into a rebirth.”

The new album was funded by fans on pledgemusic.com, an organic and rewarding
process that has only increased Corner’s already unique and close-knit relationship with his fan-base.

“We were very scared to do it, actually,” Corner admitted. “It was a big step for us because we just thought, ‘Who the fuck’s going to buy this?’ As it grew, and we realized the intensity of the love that we were getting from the fans, it was just incredible. We became more confident with it.

“I’ve always been very independent, almost anti-music industry, and this just solidified that for me. The fact that we didn’t have to have all the bullshit in between, we could just go directly to the fans, they love that, and it’s really the new way for us. It helps us to stay out of the bullshit of the industry with all the hype and all the money, and we have that personal contact.”

Nick Valensi Wows With New Band CRX

CRX

CRX played The Troubadour Sep. 17; photo Amanda de Cadenet

The Strokes are one of the last veritable institutions in rock music (You can fight me on this, I know I’m right). As such, people actually know the names of the dudes in the band, not just the guy up front, which means that no matter what successful side project or solo record they do, they will always be referred to as a member of said band.

As I watched The Strokes guitarist Nick Valensi’s new band, CRX, at the sold-out Troubadour on Saturday night, I couldn’t help but make comparisons to his other group; a submission to human nature and our hunt for familiarity, which Valensi and CRX alternately played around with, and discarded, over the course of the show.

Valensi is the last member of the The Strokes to dip his toe in the side-project water, launching the band with a website and social media accounts at the beginning of August. Always appearing the most content to just stick with his main gig, it was the lack of touring behind 2013’s Comedown Machine that made Valensi antsy to get back on stage. Piecing together talented musicians from other bands (Darian Zahedi and Jon Safely from the Reflections, Richie Follin from Guards, and Ralph Alexander from The Dose), Valensi formed CRX.

“Ways To Fake It,” the lead single from New Skin (out Oct. 28), was all I had to go off of prior to the show. It’s pop-y, it’s Strokes-y, it’s got one of Valensi’s classic, angular, eighth-note riffs, and that interlocking guitar sound that will make you question if Albert Hammond Jr. is on the track.

But before CRX took the stage, opening act, The Gloomies’ lead singer warned, “It’s gonna get a lot louder,” and he was right. The opening heft of “Broken Bones” rattled the wall I was leaning on, while “Unnatural” rode in on a locomotive lick that reminded me of a sinister, mutant version of the “Peter Gunn Theme” ostinato. As if it wasn’t clear enough already that CRX goes heavier than anything the Strokes have done, “Monkey Man” actually started a mosh pit.

CRX is a tight band, and Valensi proved himself a capable singer and convincing frontman. Whether hitting falsetto notes and crooning “Let it go baby, let it go,” on the muscular “Give It Up,” or letting his voice passionately fray just enough at the edges as he sang “I don’t know what to make of it/When everyone is faking it,” during the closer, “Walls,” he showed he’s doing his own thing. Even the power-pop songs, like the mainstream, radio-friendly “Anything,” or the jittery groove of “One Track Mind,” are kept out of Strokes territory by Valensi’s avoidance of Julian Casablancas’ detached, answering-machine bit. The bottom line is, every song has Valensi’s familiar, Epiphany Riviera sound that the crowd of fans in Strokes t-shirts was greatly appreciative of, but other than that, CRX is it’s own animal.

Perhaps most important to me, as a longtime Strokes fan who, full disclosure, has referred to Room on Fire as life-changing on several occasions, is that Valensi is having a damn good time. “Well shit that was fun,” he yelled before closing out the set, and you knew he meant it after the electrifying, jammed-out display that came prior. Valensi showed more enthusiasm at the Troubadour than he has at a Strokes gig in years, willingly playing the guitar hero by thrusting his axe into the crowd as he soloed, seeming to enjoy the shouts of “We love you Nick,” that came after nearly every song, and even letting a head-banging kid that snuck on stage jam out with him for a little bit.

That’s the thing about these bands we hold so dear. We love that they make music for us, and if side projects and solo careers are what they need to still love it too, so be it. We just want to see those familiar faces, and when the music is this good, it’s even sweeter. “We’ll see you next time, right?” Valensi asked before leaving the stage. Judging by the way fans were frantically fighting over the setlist, I would say that’s a safe bet.

The Zombies Still Rocking 50 Years Later

THE ZOMBIES

THE ZOMBIES play Belly Up Sep. 10; press photo

Let’s take a trip back to 1969. The Zombies’ song “Time of the Season” is at the top of the charts. Every time you turn on the radio, there’s Colin Blunstone’s plush, velvet voice asking, “What’s your name? / Who’s your daddy?”. It was the biggest hit of their career, but at the time of its release, the band had already broken up.

Fortunately, Blunstone and keyboardist/songwriter Rod Argent reunited in 2000, beginning one of the unlikeliest second acts in music history. In anticipation of their upcoming SoCal shows, Concert Guide Live caught up with Blunstone to talk about the fortuitous early days of the band, the mystery of Odessey and Oracle, and how The Zombies lived to see another day.

Criminally polite, and understated in the most British sense of the word, Blunstone attributes most of his career to chance. “There were a lot of happy accidents,” he mused while thinking back on the early days of The Zombies.

Whether it’s John Lennon leaving his Mellotron in Abbey Road’s studio 3, causing Argent to use it all over Odyssey and Oracle, or one persistent DJ in Boise, Idaho relentlessly playing “Time of the Season” until everyone caught on, The Zombies story is filled with these unexplainable happenings.

Although, Blunstone once showed up to a rehearsal with two black eyes and a broken nose he received in a rugby match, he instantly proved to be essential in building the band’s signature sound.

“I looked like a zombie, to be honest,” Blunstone said.

During one of their rehearsal breaks, Blunstone watched as Argent began to expertly play “the most broken down, old piano you can ever imagine.”

Amazed, Blunstone insisted that Argent play keyboards for the group, but Argent was hesitant.

“He was very, very reluctant because he thought of rock bands being three guitars. He didn’t think there was a place for keyboards.”

Later, Argent overheard Blunstone singing a Ricky Nelson song to himself and quickly returned the favor.

“He said, ‘I’ll play keyboards if you be the lead singer,’” Blunstone recalled.

“Now I was always very shy. If I was going to be in a band, I wanted to be the rhythm guitarist, standing at the back, looking at my feet. Instead, I ended up right at the front.”

The Zombies rode the wave of “She’s Not There” all the way to America, where the song went to #2 on the Billboard charts. The band hit again with “Tell Her No”. By 1967, the band decided to call it quits (Blunstone was just 22), but not before recording one last album, the chamber-pop masterpiece, Odessey and Oracle.

Since it’s less than successful release, the album has become a cult classic, garnering a spot on several “greatest albums of all time” lists. With songs like “This Will Be Our Year,” “A Rose For Emily,” and the aforementioned “Time of the Season,” it is considered one of the most-beloved albums of the decade. It continues to sell more copies than it ever did in the 60’s, and is largely responsible for the continued interest in the band. So what does Blunstone attribute the album’s odd path to eminence?

“It’s a mystery, it’s an utter mystery,” Blunstone admitted.

“In the music industry, people like to be able to categorize you, and when your music is quite diverse and takes influences from such a wide spectrum of music, it can confuse people. I think that was a little bit of a problem for us.

“We never in a million years envisioned we would be talking about The Zombies catalogue 50 years later, but because it was original, it is still of interest to people. I’m not saying we were that special, but there were some bands that were derivative, obvious, and they tend not to be talked about so much.”

Following the split of the group, Blunstone and Argent kept in contact, working together through the years before their eventual reunion as The Zombies in 2000.

“Rod will often say that he learned to write songs, writing for my voice. Even when we weren’t working together, often my voice would be subconsciously in his mind. Just the same, I learned to sing, singing his songs. We’re good friends. If there’s a night off, Rod and I will usually go have dinner together.”

The nights off are few and far between, with Blunstone and Argent playing up to five nights in a row. Amazingly, Blunstone still sings all The Zombie’s songs in the original key, a feat he attributes to working with a vocal coach and doing regular voice exercises.

“Some of them were in quite high keys, even when I was 19 or 20,” he laughs, “but I’ve been very lucky that I’ve still got that range.”

Very lucky, seems to be the phrase Blunstone most likes to use. Eternally grateful that he still gets to make music, he’s extremely thoughtful and wise when giving advice to young musicians.

“Never forget the enthusiasm that you have now, as you’re coming into the business. Never forget what your aim is. Writing and performing are crafts, and it takes time, it takes practice and application. It’s not a bad thing if you take the scenic route to where you want to be.”

When asked what route his own life may have taken if he hadn’t pursued music, Blunstone remembers when he was a teenager trying to convince his father to let him go to art school.

“He said to me, ‘You’re not going to art school. All they do there is drink beer and chase girls,’ which sounded fantastic to me.

“The irony was, when we came to sign the recording deal, we were under 21, so the contracts also had to be signed by our parents. He wouldn’t let me go to art school, but he had no problem signing my contract to join a rock and roll band [laughs].

“I don’t know what he thought we would be doing, but there was quite a lot of beer consumed, and I’ll let you use your imagination for the rest.”

Gap Dream Shares Love Of Music

GAP DREAM

GAP DREAM

Gap Dream was playing The Wayfarer in Costa Mesa Sep.3. In anticipation of that show, Concert Guide Live caught up with Mr. Gap Dream himself, Gabe Fulvimar.

But first, let’s get a few things out of the way:

1. Yes, Gabe Fulvimar (aka the wizard, brain, chairman, and CEO behind electro-psych-synthpop project Gap Dream) lives in the Burger Records storage unit somewhere in SoCal.
2. Yes, Fulvimar grew up in Ohio with Patrick Carney (yes, that Patrick Carney), and was briefly in the early Black Keys.
3. If you would like any further information about the above two points, please consult every other profile written about Fulvimar, because both items will only be mentioned here in relation to other, more pressing matters, like John Titor, or Fulvimar’s serious beef with Pitchfork, or being one of the most misunderstood dudes in indie music.

Fulvimar gives off a perpetual-slacker-with-a-heart-of-gold vibe. The kind of guy who likes to hang out, drink cheap beer, challenge Mac DeMarco to a WWE steel-cage match (which he did), and sleep ’til noon (which he also did a few weeks back, missing our first scheduled interview time).

The only inaccuracy in this description is, he actually works his ass off. He writes and records albums between tour dates, records and produces other Burger artists, works on his own side projects, and acts as his own manager, all while trying to move out of that goddamn warehouse.

Inspired by a love of all things Burger, Fulvimar worked up the courage to send some tapes to founders Sean Bohrman and Lee Rickard, who hooked him up with the label and a place to live. Fulvimar packed his bags and headed for the west coast, a realization of something he’s wanted since childhood.

“I always found myself wanting to do Californian things. I tried to skate but I would just end up rolling down a hill and eating shit getting death wobbles. I remember asking my dad if we could move to California when I was like, six, and he just looked at me like I was crazy.”

As a kid, he fell in love with music, but it wasn’t until a cool, illustrator uncle sent him a four-track tape machine that Fulvimar became obsessed.

GAP DREAM

GAP DREAM

“He knew I was taking guitar lessons and that I cared about music. So one day I got it in the mail, and that was it, that’s all I needed. I stopped hanging out with anybody [laughs]. I was just in my room trying to record anything I could.”

It’s been four years since the move, and Fulvimar has earned his keep, whipping out albums at a steady clip. It was 2013’s Shine Your Light that put him on the map, with its poppy melodies and playful synths weaving between melancholy, disenfranchised lyrics. Some critics loved it, others were thrown by it, a trend that continued with 2016’s This Is Gap Dream.

Lyrics like “This is for the world that I can’t ignore / The one that screams for more” from “24 Hour Token”, or “Too many soft machines / No relation to the world / Unnecessary walls / Don’t ask me for shit, son” from “College Music”, led most reviewers to categorize Fulvimer as a morose, loner boy suffering a “music nerd midlife-meltdown,” who has basically given up. This is something that noticeably frustrates the goofy, laid-back musician.

“My output has barely anything to do with my actual personality. It’s usually just influenced by what I’ve been listening to for the past six months. When you write a song, you’re adopting a character, adopting a shade of yourself that probably isn’t really there, but in whatever world I’m creating with my music, that guy is there.”

To prove his point, Fulvimar explains that “24 Hour Token,” which critics chalked up to his supposed breakdown and spiral into existential angst, is really about John Titor, purported military time traveler from the year 2036 who has to travel back to 1972 for a super-old IBM computer, to save us all from a Y2K-like, hexadecimal crash (Google that shit. It’s crazy).

Oh, and he got the tune from the Berenstain Bears song, mashing up two conspiracy theories and the Serenity Prayer popularized by Alcoholics Anonymous into a lo-fi, mumblepop gem.

“It’s about self-destructive tendencies, it’s also about getting back to where you were, how are you gonna get back there, where’s your center?

“I have an older friend that likes to go to Brentwood AA meetings to try to pick up rich women, so I kind of put [the Serenity Prayer] in there for him. It brings reality to a song I based on John Titor [laughs].”

Fulvimar’s response to critics varies from amused, like when he’s talking about the blogger who’s convinced Gap Dream is following an album-by-album template set by the Velvet Underground.

GAP DREAM

GAP DREAM

“The only Velvet Underground thing I’ve intentionally done is the ‘Sister Ray’ cover I did for Burger, and even that I had to go on Lyrics365 to look up what the hell that guy was saying.”

Then there are angry responses, like when he rips Pitchfork’s Ian Cohen a new asshole.

“Every time I put a record out, [Gap Dream’s publicist] is like, ‘Ya, Pitchfork’s just not digging it, they’re not gonna do anything with it,’ and I’m like, ‘Cool! Keep me the fuck off of Pitchfork.’

“Two days later, there’s some disgustingly horrible ‘review’ of my record, where my friends are coming up to me being like, ‘Do you know that guy? Because it sounds like you must have accidentally banged his girlfriend.’ And I’m like, ‘I know, it’s really fucking weird.’ ”

Fulvimar is even considering taking a page out of Pat Carney’s book (Yes, they’ve known each other since they were six, used to throw acorns at each other, and wrestled in Carney’s front yard all the time, ok?!).

“He texted me after reading that review like, ‘Fuck that guy, oh my God! You should start a Twitter thing like I did with Justin Bieber.’

“I could say things like ‘Ian Cohen quits Pitchfork, trades jobs with Gabe Fulvimar of Gap Dream. Gabe has to write shitty Pitchfork reviews’.”

When all is said and done, the fact remains that Fulvimer’s very pure love of music, is something he speaks about with a surprising eloquence.

“People love familiarity in music, but they also shy away from it. If you’re trying to communicate an emotion, it’s kind of like opening up someone’s nerve. You can either massage it, or you can really jar it.

“It’s the same thing as when you watch an Oliver Stone movie and it just makes you sick because it’s so fucked up, but at the same time you’re like, ‘I’d watch that again!’ If you’re making creative output you want your audience to understand. I’m happy when I hear people say they get it, they relate to it, because that means I did my job well.”

The Zombies Breathe New Life Into 50 Year Career At The Coach House

The Zombies

The Zombies

Before launching into their 1965 single “I Want You Back Again,” a jazzy cut that’s still so fresh the band re-recorded it for their 2015 album Still Got That Hunger, lead singer Colin Blunstone explained, “Not only had the public forgotten it, we did too.”

Contrary to that statement, the sold-out crowd at The Coach House last Saturday night didn’t seem to have forgotten at all, belting right along with Blunstone and giving the band a standing ovation after almost every song. Never mind that 50 years have passed since The Zombies were regularly on the radio.

One of the oddest stories in rock, The Zombies rose to fame on the backs of hit singles like “She’s Not There” and “Tell Her No,” slipping in the British Invasion door propped open by The Beatles. However, as it was for many groups, the hits quickly dried up and The Zombies disbanded, but not before recording the chamber-pop masterpiece Odessey and Oracle. Released in 1968 after the group had already gone their separate ways, it flopped upon arrival, but by some magical mystery has become one of the most beloved albums of the 60’s, continuing to sell more copies every year than it did back then.

As Blunstone and other original member Rod Argent played a medley from that album, “Care Of Cell 44,” “I Want Her She Wants Me,” the aforementioned “Time Of The Season,” and the
sweetly, touching, fan favorite, “This Will Be Our Year”, it drove home just how baffling it is that the album didn’t sell upon initial release, but also how lucky and grateful Blunstone and Argent feel to still be able to play their music.

Argent, who wrote most of The Zombies’ songs, was as spry as ever, effortlessly firing off transcendent keyboard solos on “Time Of The Season,” and “Hold Your Head Up,” a huge hit from his post-Zombies band, the appropriately named, “Argent”.

Blunstone, who had a successful solo career in England with songs like “Caroline Goodbye,” miraculously sings The Zombies songs in the same key as when he was 19 years old, hitting the dizzying high notes on “I Love You” and “Going Out Of My Head” with complete ease. If anything, his voice has actually gotten stronger and more capable, while the breathy, velvet voice that cooed, “What’s your name/Who’s your daddy” all those years ago, still remains.

The night wasn’t all nostalgia, with cuts like the blues piano-inflected “Edge Of The Rainbow,” and the upbeat, “Lady Madonna”-esque “Maybe Tomorrow” being particularly well received. After all, everyone loves a good comeback story, and the enthusiastic crowd loves this one so much, they actually seemed to be enjoying the new songs.

Other highlights included a “You Really Got A Hold On Me” and “Bring It On Home To Me” mashup in a nod to the group’s blue-eyed soul roots. The hit singles “She’s Not There” and “Tell Her No,” and a rousing rendition of Argent’s “God Gave Rock And Roll To You” closed out the show.

“I won’t cry for the past,” Blunstone sang during new track “Moving On.” With shows as good as this 50 years on, The Zombies definitely don’t have to.

Mitch Ryder Keeps The Rebellious Spirit of Rock-N-Roll Alive

MITCH RYDER

Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels play The Coach House Jul 3; photo Jason Engstrom

Mention the name Mitch Ryder you might be met with a blank stare. But many know Mitch Ryder is a heavyweight of blue-eyed soul, an architect of the oft-referenced Detroit sound (Bob Seger, The Stooges, MC5), and one of the few people actually worthy of the moniker “rock and roll survivor.”

In the 1960’s Ryder and his backup band, The Detroit Wheels, shot to fame with hit singles like “Devil With A Blue Dress,” “Little Latin Lupe Lu,” “Jenny Take A Ride,” and “Sock It To Me, Baby!”. These rousing rebel-rocker songs, still electrifying, highlight Ryder’s fiery, soul vocals. His voice knows no bounds, going from sweet to gruff, threatening to come unhinged with every coming downbeat. These records serve as a crystallized example of a time when rock-n-roll was still sexy, wild, and dangerous. A student of the school of Little Richard and James Brown, Ryder found his voice early on.

“I was in high school when I sang for a student assembly and I got a load of applause, and it was like a drug, it was like, phew,” Ryder recalled. “These were guys I was getting into fights with, and putting glue on people’s lockers and shit, messing around in the classroom and they were applauding. And I’m going, ‘Alright, screw you guys.’ Then when I got on the road and started getting the same thing I realized how important it was.”

As the tides began to change in the late 60’s, Ryder would continue to chase that applause even after The Detroit Wheels fell off and Ryder went solo. His 1967 collaboration with super-producer Bob Crewe entitled “What Now My Love” became the low-point, with Crewe pushing Ryder in a schmaltzy, theatrical direction that was not right for the times and certainly not right for Ryder, knocking him off the charts and effectively, and legally, ending the already tense relationship between him and Crewe. In 1969, Ryder made a winning attempt to bounce back with “The Detroit Memphis Experiment”, a collaboration with Booker T. & the M.G.’s and The Memphis Horns, but the damage was done.

Just like any other Detroit native, Ryder refused to give in. After minor successes (a cover of Lou Reed’s “Rock and Roll” and the John Mellencamp produced album Never Kick A Sleeping Dog), and a whole lot of drugs, Ryder has found success on the U.S. nostalgia circuit, and enjoys a flourishing career in Europe, where he has released dozens of albums exploring every corner of his creative impulses.

“There are some beautiful ones like Rite of Passage, You Deserve My Art, The Acquitted Idiot, A Dark Caucasian Blue,” Ryder said. “These are all fucking cool albums but they were never released here, because, as far as the industry is concerned, I don’t exist. It’s a young man’s game.”

Clearly embittered after years of mistreatment, bad deals, and plain old bad luck, Ryder is wise to the game the industry plays, and remains staunchly anti-establishment.

“I couldn’t tell you who the first rock ’n roller was, I just know it’s an attitude, and that’s what pisses me off about these hall of fames and everything,” Ryder said. “Rock and roll was a music of rebellion, the way I remember it. It was something that our parents hated and couldn’t listen to. Being an act of rebellion, it was never supposed to be defined. And then you get some jerks out in Cleveland who tried to define it. Look at the roster. Does it even resemble something that looks like rock and roll to you?”

One thing that hasn’t soured is Ryder’s powerhouse voice, which remains miraculously intact. “Every time I light up a cigarette, my voice gets better,” he says gleefully.

Indeed, it’s his voice that gives him confidence his string of shows in SoCal will be knockouts, even though he’ll be playing with a band he hasn’t sung two notes with.

“We are using different musicians out in California,” Ryder explained. “We do a really eclectic show, and when we do hard, driving songs they nail you to the wall. When we do soft, tender ballads, you may as well be in bed with your man or your woman, you know? I’m hoping that they’re able to pull that off for me, because I’m able to do it vocally. I’ll be rehearsing from the time I get off the plane. We may be late [laughs].”

Fans coming out to The Coach House in San Juan Capistrano Jul 3 can expect an entertaining show, with Ryder originals, inspired covers, and plenty of jokes and stories from one of rock’s most authentic characters.

Want more? Ryder’s autobiography, “Devils & Blue Dresses: My Life as a Rock and Roll Legend”, is filled with backstage tales and sharp insights that lay the music industry so bare, lawyers removed 50+ pages from the book, a fact Ryder delights in.

“One critic said, ‘You will never read a more honest account of the music industry than this book.’ I don’t know if he was high at the time or what, but I’ll take it.”

Sunflower Bean Delivers At Constellation Room Jun 26

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Sunflower Bean at Constellation Room Jun 26; photo Lauren Ratkowski

Any time I’m slotted to see a buzzy band I experience a jolt of anticipation mixed with a sour tinge of dread. Call it my bullshit meter whirring to life, or maybe it’s just my overgrown curiosity. Either way, there’s a new element in play and it’s a smutty, four-letter word called “hype”.

Rolling Stone called Sunflower Bean “NYC’s Coolest Young Band,” NME named them One To Watch for 2016, and their debut album, Human Ceremony, is on more “Best of 2016” lists then you can shake a drum stick at. But what really gripped me was the accolade from Oh My Rockness declaring them the “Hardest Working Band in NYC,” for sheer number of shows played.

As they took the stage at The Constellation Room (which was packed to capacity), I clutched my little notepad, took a deep breath, and said a little prayer to the rock gods, hoping that practice does indeed still make perfect.

All that gigging around NYC payed off just like I thought it would. They. Are. Tight. So tight, they’re like a pair of Bon Scott’s jeans. No, even tighter. I’ll say it: full Robert Plant.

The extended prog-lite jams (we’re talking two economical minutes instead of 15) of “Tame Impala” and “I Was Home” were performed with laser-like focus. Over drummer Jacob Faber’s behemoth beats, singer/bassist Julia Cumming and guitarist Nick Kivlen locked into each other with so much intensity it’s like they’re using one brain, staring each other down from across the stage.

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Sunflower Bean Constellation Room Jun 26; photo Lauren Ratkowski

The hours upon hours they’ve slogged plus a lean set added up to the actual music being so clean, so down-pat, that the band was free to absolutely smash. Songs like “Come On” and “Wall Watcher” erupted the room into one giant pit, causing me, the photographers, and those of a slightly milder manner, to scramble for the corners of the room.

Most reactive to the energy was Cumming, bobbing her head so hard it looked like her neck might snap, dousing the crowd with water, and even jumping down into the pit.

“We just did a show in LA that was our favorite show ever, but this is our favorite show, too,” Cumming said.

The crowd seemed to agree, begging for one more song, which they obliged with “The Stalker,” the absolute earth-rocker of a B-side to their debut single. “What’s this song called?” I heard a guy behind me yell to his buddy, “This is some heavy shit!”

The Casket Girls Bring Freaky Fun to SoCal

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CASKET GIRLS play Bootleg Theater June 26; Press photo

The Casket Girls, known for their far-out stage shows and girl-group by-way-of graveyard sound, are coming to LA Jun 26 for a show at the Bootleg Theater. While sisters and co-lead singers Phaedra and Elsa Greene often get all the attention with their platinum wigs and choreographed dance moves, make sure you look for a masked man toiling away on the keyboards. That’s multi-band member, multi-label owner, and self-professed lunatic Ryan Graveface.

“I’ll get offstage and people will be like, ‘Hey, were you onstage?’ And I say, ‘Yeah.’ ‘Well what did you do?’ and it’s like, ‘I played all the music!’,” Graveface said.

“It’s kind of cool, because I guess that means that they’re so focused on the other aspects that I’m inconsequential.”

Not many musicians would be as nonchalant about being “inconsequential” onstage. Then again, Graveface is no ordinary musician. More of an anti-musician, he writes songs out of borderline-schizo necessity.

“I write because I hear shit in my head, and I have to get it out. It’s that simple. It’s not sexy.”

He played his first, $7-a-month guitar incorrectly for six whole months.

“I had it laying down as though it was a lap steel or something. I never watched music videos or anything, so I had no idea what the hell I was doing.”

And, most interestingly, he says he really doesn’t give a shit about music.

“It’s not like I fell in love with music once I started writing,” Graveface said.

“I don’t listen to anything. The only shit that I like, is the stuff that I release on one of my labels. It’s just funny. I have a record store, I have two record labels (Graveface and Terror Vision), I co-own a music PR firm, everything is musical. And yet, I quite frankly don’t like it that much.”

Before you scoff, and dismiss Graveface as desperately trying to seem above it all, there are elements of his life in music he enjoys. Being in the Casket Girls for instance, seems to have been charmed for him from the start, when he stumbled upon the Greene sisters singing songs to each other in a park, just after deciding he wanted to start a new band.

“I wanted my version of a contemporary, Shangri-la’s type band,” Graveface recalled.

“Almost all quote, unquote, girl groups today are garage-y, but not Shangri-la’s garage-y, which is more highly produced and just incredibly well done, actually. So that was the impetus.”

The combination of Graveface’s lush and nuanced musical beds, with the girls’ spellbinding lyrics and dreamy vocals has been fulfilling on more than a musical level.

“It’s the only project I’ve ever been in that actually feels like a true collaboration,” Graveface said.

“It’s just really nice. It actually feels like we’re a family in a weird way, too. We fight like brothers and sisters, and we love each other like brothers and sisters, and we collaborate like I think a family would.”

Before he gets too ooey-gooey, he’s quick to add, “Then again, most families are dysfunctional.”

The fans also seem to be a bright spot for Graveface. He planned the setlist for this tour around what fans on Facebook said they wanted to hear.

“I mean, if someone’s paying to see you, I do feel they should get what they came for,” Graveface noted.

“If someone is gonna be happy about us playing a certain song, hell yeah, we’ll play it.”

Rounding out the setlist will be songs from their latest effort, The Night Machines, a diverse album filled with electro-pop, shoegaze beats that swing spooky to sacchrine, with lyrics from the personal “Beyond a Shadow” to the political, scathing “Tears of a Clown”. Ever the workaholic, The Night Machines is rooted in a sci-fi story Graveface has been working on for years.

“Do you really want me to get into all this,” Graveface laughed before continuing:

“In this story, modern medicine has come so far that, unless it’s a car accident or something of that nature, people don’t die. We start to notice that the way we love is actually rooted in death, not life. So in the absence of death, people become very cold, crass, and evil. This underground movement begins with the Night Machines. They reject all of that and basically start a rebellion.”

Included with each vinyl copy of the album is one page of the story, different from anyone else’s.

“To read the story you have to get online and share it with people, and there’s different versions of the story, so it’s going to confuse the hell out of people,” Graveface said.

Confusing people is something Graveface has grown accustomd to, especially with the Casket Girls’ live shows. Described as everything from “failed California porn stars”, to a “living art piece” he is well aware that they are best experienced with an open mind.

“I just think we’re bizarre,” Graveface confessed.

“We get a fair amount of bad live reviews, and it’s not because we sound like shit, it’s more like they just don’t get it. There’s just something that doesn’t click with a certain type of person, and we just come across as assholes [laughs].”