Diversions

Hammer No More The Fingers/Goes Cube - Hell - Mar. 26

You’ve heard a lot on the blog and in the DTH pages about Hammer No More The Fingers. The Durham trio has received overwhelming acclaim across the Diversions staff and will be headlining the Dive party at the end of April. To have an idea of what to expect at the big shindig and to check out the source of all the fuss, I descended to Hell for a complimentary show on Tuesday night.

Brooklyn three-piece and Appalachian Trail beard gurus Goes Cube opened the evening. The distortion-heavy jams and screams seemed unlikely coming from primarily mellow body language, but guitarist/vocalist David Obuchowski frequently stirred the mood by thrashing out into the first few rows of attendees. Perhaps the beards can be blamed for hiding emotion, but the volume, even through earplugs, could not betray the group’s intentions. Conveniently naming each cut “Goes Cube Song _____” followed by a corresponding number, the loud but melodious anthems were worthy of head-nodding approvals.

Called “the band with real talent” by Obuchowski, HNMTF soon started their set amidst a sea of friendly faces. Sure enough, it was quick and easy to comprehend the widespread praise. Though Goes Cube was an entertaining adrenaline-fest, HNMTF showcased an astonishing display of sonic balance in addition to an inviting stage presence.

Transitioning seamlessly from a hardcore moment to intricate picking exchanges between guitarist Joe Hall and bassist/vocalist E. Duncan Webster, the group touched on numerous corners of music-loving minds. The wide array of percussion from Jeff Stickley meshed right in the guitar groove and took the drum set to solo heights when appropriate, yet never drew unnecessary attention to itself.

Harmony was the theme, but that didn’t keep Webster from letting loose some heartfelt yells or Hall from shredding like he was holding a Flying V. Those elements were fun additions, but being able to consistently come back down to smooth communication between all three members is an element that separates the good bands from the great. It was everything you’d want from a group, especially since they’re willing to get to know you and maybe call your name out during the show.

So, is HNMTF worth the hype? Yes. Can they be enjoyed without becoming a fanatic? We’ll see.

Now, I wonder if I can learn some of their lyrics before April 26…

-Edwin Arnaudin

Finding one’s favorite music is full of random encounters and surprise discoveries. For a tall white kid growing up in the mountains of Western North Carolina on Doc Watson and James Taylor, hip-hop suddenly sought me. The story of my relationship with my favorite genre is speckled with memorable moments that may not be far off from your own hip-hop love.

The early days were nearly absent of urban music. My babysitter dubbed me a copy of Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em and my fellow 4th graders and I loved to bounce around at P.E. to Tag Team’s “Whoomp! (There It Is),” but that was the extent of my exposure. The pop radio station out of Greenville, S.C., played “California Love,” but when Channel One announced that 2Pac had been shot and killed, I was out of the loop. Additionally, all I knew about the Notorious B.I.G. was that Puff Daddy was sad and wrote “I’ll Be Missing You” about him.

The first turning point occurred at the cusp of high school. On my 8th Grade Trip in Spring ‘98, which included N.C. stops at Wake Forest University, Beaufort and Wilmington, I sat on a chartered bus next to Jason Bealieau (pronounced Baloo, like the “Jungle Book” bear). While I was listening to the Beatles and Clapton on my Walkman, he opened his CD case and introduced me to his albums.

At first, I was surprised by the revealing illustrations of a nude woman bathed in green goo on a disc by an unknown artist. Insisting that album was from a “cool group from Atlanta,” he pulled out the Fugees’ The Score and played me a few cuts. I had no idea that Lauryn Hill could rap, having only been exposed to “Killing Me Softly” on the radio.

“This guy’s also on the Fugees,” Jason said, and reached for The Source Presents: Hip Hop Hits, Vol. 1, skipping to track 16. “You’ll like this.” As he pressed play, a familiar disco beat came through the headphones. It was the Bee Gees. Someone…several someones were rapping over the Bee Gees! I had never heard anything like it before. After hitting repeat a couple of times and memorizing the infectious beat, I had officially been introduced to hip-hop by Wyclef Jean’s “We Trying to Stay Alive.”

At the same time, Will Smith, no longer recording as The Fresh Prince, was at the top of the pop charts with “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It.” Coupled with “Men In Black,” his hit from the previous summer, Smith was the most popular rapper, but his music felt incomplete. Wyclef’s song instantly filled that rhyming gap with a more complete sound, making me wonder what else was out there.

Not long after, Shreyas Makwana brought his CDs to Jason Lauritzen’s overnight birthday party. Producing a plain-looking silver disc with no graphics, he put on a song called “Brass Monkey,” by, in his words, “three Jewish guys who try to rap.” I had never heard of the Beastie Boys and the one song was my lone taste that day.

During the summer, I was on the way to camp with Michael Sweat when he asked me if I’d seen the video for “Intergalactic.” Not having cable, the answer was a definite “no,” but Michael told me to check it out. “I think it’s by Metallica,” he said. Not knowing what kind of song he was talking about, I took his word for it.

A few weeks later, I was in Virginia Beach visiting my cousins when we went to a generic overpriced electronics store. The bright, colorful display for the new Beastie Boys album, “Hello Nasty,”caught my attention and I chuckled at the cover art of three guys sitting in an interstellar sardine can. The track listing on the reverse side included one called “Intergalactic,” and I felt a yearning to hear what was obviously not a heavy metal jam. Compelled to burn some dough, I bought the disc, and once we returned to my cousins’ house, we skipped to track 7 on their Playstation and enjoyed some white boy rap while chomping on a bag of Twizzlers Pull-n-Peel. It was artificially cherry-flavored bliss for all five senses.

Less than a month later, I started 9th grade. The strong foundations of hip-hop to which I had been introduced proved to be valuable in upper-classmen interactions, but I would quickly learn that there was far more goodness out there…

Coming up: VMA mixtapes, the dangers of No Limit and a little help from BMG.

-Edwin Arnaudin

Brother Ali, Abstract Rude, Toki Wright & BK-One - Cat’s Cradle - March 24, 2008

Minneapolis was reppin’ hard in Carrboro Monday night when Brother Ali and cronies stopped by Cat’s Cradle for a Truth Is Here Tour stop.

Surprisingly, the party that was promised kicked off only 10 minutes after music was scheduled to start; a new record for a hip-hop show. The “live band” and who would also prove to be host of the evening Toki Wright came straight out with as much gusto as a full backing could have provided. With BK-One manning the 1s & 2s like he would all night, the Minnesota native flew through furious renditions of his unknown-to-the-crowd cuts. Delivered with a Black Star period Mos Def bravado, Wright enraptured the still-filing-in crowd like opening acts rarely do. Toki finished up with a short political rave and a tour through the audience where his enthusiasm flourished before bowing out for a short break.

Los Angeles native Abstract Rude brought with him a handful of diehard fans from his lengthy stay in the hip-hop game to accompany his witty lyricism. Mr. Rude weaved stoner smoking tales and gritty street tales to a crowd that seemed to be taking a little too long to grasp the lexis than to properly applaud the performer.

The reason the people came out so strongly on a weeknight Brother Ali arrived onstage after a short but incredibly pleasing mix by BK-One and hosted by Wright. The albino backpacker came armed with two mics, one for effects, and the fans hung onto every bit of it. The Minnesotan brought an all high energy set that was helped even more so by Toki’s presence on stage.

The brother and abstract were good but Toki Wright was by far what should have been the real draw of the night. He is hopefully the “next big thing” and deserves to be headlining similar shows in the near future. If he can get the same beats his fellow Rhymesayers get he may be.

-Benn Wineka

Kooley High - Summer Sessions EP (M.E.C.C.A. Records)

Nothing good has ever emerged from the depths of mortar and bricks at N.C. State University. To keep it that way, we’ll only consider Kooley High from Raleigh because the Wolf Pack faithful should not be able to take credit for such talent.

Already released on iTunes, The Summer Sessions EP is the first offering by group Kooley High and quickly establishes them among the elite in North Carolina hip-hop. MCs Tab-One, Charlie Smarts and Rapsody use what seem like effortless rhyming techniques to make already stellar homegrown beats by the group’s producers Sinopsis and Foolery sound that much better.

For all nine songs on the EP, KH is as chill as their name suggests. After the 35 minute listen it’s tempting to not want to go out and befriend the quintet. It would seem just being in the same vicinity of the collective would make you cooler.

The crew keeps up this reputation with songs like “Kool With It” and “We Be That.” Boasting is done without coming off as cocky and the confidence is so assured that there is no question to whether or not it is deserved. How could it not be when Rapsody can rap so eloquently about her “vernacular?”

Maestro 9^th Wonder lends two cuts but only really stands apart from Foolery and Sinopsis on “Water.” This is a true testament to the quality of the in-house production because “Water” is only more prominent with verses by Lazarus and Edgar Allen Floe, the latter of the two also holds the crown for best MC name in the game.

The only thing holding the EP back is the often made mistake of adding useless skits in between some of the songs. Although the intro to “Water” is an obvious allusion to both the song and hip-hop club H₂O that several of the members formed while at N.C.S.U., it only serves to slow the otherwise fluid release.

Kooley High is definitely worth remembering because it will be a shame if they don’t make a name for themselves out of the Research Triangle. The Summer Sessions EP is great fun with lyrics reminiscent of the bygone A Tribe Called Quest and daisy-age De La Soul era with meticulously well-crafted beats that can make a grown man swoon.

-Benn Wineka

Violet Vector and the Lovely Lovelies - EP 1 (Holidays For Quince)

Chapel Hill’s Violet Vector and the Lovely Lovelies prove something on their debut EP that many might not believe is true.

Happiness can be edgy.

The five songs on the  EP effort deliver sugar-sweet girl group bliss with the attitude of a punk band while also throwing in elements of ’60s psychedelic pop.

The result of all this is like a punch to the face with a nice candy shell. Violet Vector seems at once to be trying to make its listener insanely happy and also pester him for not being so joyous in the first place.

Take album opener “Can You Dig It” for example. “And if you wanna be there/Just give me your hand/And when I say can you dig it, you say?,” lead singer Amanda Brooks asks before the rest of the band chimes in “Yeah, yeah we can.”

The way Brooks delivers the line, it’s less an invitaiton to take her hand and be merry and more a threat that if you don’t get off your butt and do so there will be consequences. But with music as vivid and bright as Violet Vector’s it’s hard not to comply anyway.

Due to the nature of the songs the brevity of the EP becomes a strength. While the intensely sugary, Techinicolor tracks could be too much in larger doses, for five songs the attack is perfect leaving the listener wanting to enjoy the disc again and again.

So in the end while blissful is the best word I can come up with to describe the overall quality of this album, there’s something about the word that’s not quite adequate. Because while it’s a record that’s sure to make many listeners happy, it also demands that you think about why you weren’t this happy in the first place.

-Jordan Lawrence

Nicole Atkins and the Sea - Local 506 - Mar. 22

On Saturday night I witnessed something that I had never seen before–the crowd at Local 506 almost completely silent in between songs. As out of character as that sounds to anyone who has been to the establishment, it is true. And if you were there it’s easy to understand why the crowd stood and listened respectfully. The angelic voice of New Jersey’s Nicole Atkins was just that awe-inspiring.

Before the crowd reached this respectful state, they had their engines revved-up by two not-too-shabby rock ‘n’ roll bands. First up The Houstons treated the crowd to a set of southern-fried rock brooding with heart-jerking organ lines and sepia-tinged melancholy.

While the band’s aesthetic was one used by several other outfits, The Houstons brought enough passion and energy to their set to make it interesting.

New Jersey’s The Parlor Mob hit the stage next and smacked the crowd right in the jaw with classic rock fury. Playing songs that found the rough, tumultuous fury of Led Zeppelin’s most out-of-control moments and channeled them into solid three to five minute bursts, the band’s set was truly exhilarating.

Though the band faltered once during an attempt at elongated balladry, the band was in its element during the faster numbers, churning through rockers propelled by enough energy that it was easy to forget that most of the tricks the band used had been heard many times before.

Though both opening bands played adequately, both sets paled in comparison to the rich, full and overpowering performance of Atkins and her band the Sea. The band itself was great, recreating the arrangements from Atkins EP and full-length with incredible accuracy while also envigorating the mixes with delightful new facets.

Atkins was phenomenal, charming the crowd with cute, witty stage banter and belting out notes so rich and full they filled the listener’s entire consciousness. She put the emotion of her songs right to the forefront, filling her amazing performance of “The Way It Is” with heart-pounding desperation.

Atkins set was so engrossing that every ear in the house had her full attention. That’s why no one spoke. Not because they were trying to be polite, but because when Atkins was singing, nobody wanted to miss a note.

The Houstons

The Parlor Mob

Nicole Atkins and the Sea

- Words by Jordan Lawrence, Photos by Jordan Lawrence and Allie Mullin

Tilly and the Wall - Local 506 - March 17

Let it be known: Audiences still love a good gimmick. This fact was on display Monday night at Local 506 as Omaha’s Tilly and the Wall got the St. Patrick’s Day Crowd moving with its tap-dance-infused dance-pop.

Durham’s Midtown Dickens started out the night with its cute country-pop. The always adorably amateur duo of Catherine Edgerton and Kym Register was in fine heart-warming form.

Delivering performances with enough charm to make even the Grinch smile, the group won over the crowd, which was largely unfamiliar with the band.

Next up fellow Omaha band Capgun Coup walloped the crowd with impetuous aggression. Living up to its name, the group lashed out with sarcastic anger during its poppy yet highly distorted anthems.

The band kept the energy level high throughout its set getting the crowd well warmed up for the main event.

Tilly and the Wall hit the stage next ready to show the crowd a good time. Tap dancer Jaime Williams came out in full green regale in honor of the holiday as the band frolicked through a set of bouncing pop joy.

Though the crowd had been into the show before, Tilly really got their attention. It seemed that every person in the house was moving along to the band’s irresistible beats. And with a performance as buoyant and engrossing as Tilly’s, it’s hard to blame them.

Midtown Dickens

Capgun Coup

Tilly and the Wall

- Words by Jordan Lawrence, Photos by Jaime Williams

The Nothing Noise/Icarus Himself/The Men - Nightlight - March 21

While a good portion of students had already dispersed for the Easter holiday and another section was off somewhere else, celebrating that Friday and how good the long weekend was going to treat them without classes, the Nightlight hosted a trio of bands/performers to satisfy the twenty-odd people in attendance.

Battling PA and soundman problems in the first set, Raleigh group The Men pushed forward with their instrumental numbers. Employing the use of a projector to cast images upon the ceiling, The Men blasted saxes, drums, organs, laptops, whatever they could get their hands on to create a full multimedia presentation for the small legion of fans watching. Unfortunately, the tiered ceiling wasn’t kind to the computer display and following their most memorable prodding and thumping second number the band could never get back to the same level of fervor. The Men still showed potential for a riveting show if all their equipment had been in full-working order.

National Beekeeper’s Society member Nick Whetro performed as his solo endeavor Icarus Himself with only an acoustic guitar and personal orange amplifier. Icarus kept it simple performing as minimally as feasible with exceedingly short songs for about a half an hour. Whetro did grace his set with his homemade funky drum machine beats to accompany him several times and slipped in a NBS song as well. The Madison, Wisconsin native bowed out around midnight to give way to Chapel Hill’s The Nothing Noise.

Missing the backing of brass member Josh Krautwurst to locked car keys in Wilmington, the remaining five members continued with minimal arrangements but on a much larger scale than Icarus Himself. Frontman Logan Halley-Winsett wailed like a lone coyote, as if Kellie Grubbs’ strings had cast a full moon where The Men’s projector had just cast its own light an hour or so before. The xylophone positioned nearest the audience stage right punctuated songs like drops of ice water on your neck in a cold day.

Even sans horns The Nothing Noise sounded in top form.

-Benn Wineka

Holy F–k w/ A Place To Bury Strangers and Red Collar - Local 506 - March 18

Sometimes, our expectations of a show are completely shattered as soon as the band takes the stage. Holy F–k’s swing through Local 506 was one such event.

The Toronto electronica group took to the stage following roof rattling sets from New York’s A Place To Bury Strangers and Durham’s Red Collar (more on those later). I for one, was expecting a deliberate, slow-moving brand of electronically manipulated noise — and in retrospect I have no idea why I felt that way. What I got was a pounding dance party filled with expert drumming helped along by thick basslines and frantic electronic melodies bringing a repetative, but groove-laden sound to the darkened venue. The songs, mostly drawn from 2007’s LP brought an authentic funkiness that was beyond expectations and left audeince members (myself included) dancing in spite of themselves.

The only down sides were the stiff-backed members of the crwod who treated Holy F–k’s unescapably physical music as an academic think-piece, strokignt heir chins as the band provided the soundtrack what should have become a sweat-swamped dance explosion.

A Place To Bury Strangers played accompanied by thick synthetic fog and strobe lights, which lent a much-needed visual lelement to the bands loud (really loud) shoegaze. The band’s leader and guitarist Oliver Ackermann makes custom effects pedals by trade, and fittingly his rig sounded like no other. The band created swollen dynamics from delicately melodic passages to skin-flaying abrasion, seemingly at random.

And Red Collar, as per usual, sounded great, though full-disclosure bears mentioning that I’m a total Red Collar fanboy, and won’t go much further than to say I liked their set.

But to stem the tide of excited expletives I want to issue forth as superlative for Holy F–k’s set, suffice it to say my mind was blown as much as my body was forced into motion.

-Bryan Reed

“No Country For Old Men” silently debuted on DVD last week. Despite the Best Picture status, source material from a Pulitzer-Prize-winning author and expert adaptation, the bonus features are comprised of 3 wimpy documentaries that reveal little about the film and its production.

It’s enough to make you wonder what could have been…

-Imagine if the Coens gave a commentary. They’ve only enlightened audiences this way once, in the brilliantly smoky noir experiment “The Man Who Wasn’t There,” and for all we know that exception may be due to paying Billy Bob Thornton a poker debt. The Coens, along with frequent commentator Martin Scorsese, are the patron saints of moviedom and their wealth of film knowledge in combination with insight on their signature filmmaking would be extremely entertaining. An easter egg with a commentary-laden cut of “The Big Lebowski” hidden in the “Languages” menu could also work.

-Then, imagine if Cormac McCarthy recorded one, too. He was on Oprah. He was at the Oscars. Now the most un-Cormac thing for the reclusive author to do would be to appear on a DVD commentary track for a product that will be sold at Wal-Mart.

How about a solo track describing his work ethic, life at the Santa Fe Institute and his thoughts on the adaptation of his novel? Tack on an additional track with him and the Coens going back and forth, and we’re nearing “Fantasy Island” territory.

-As for worthwhile documentaries, how about chronicling the frustration and/or awe when a spewing oil derrick from the nearby production of “There Will Be Blood” ruined a scene? What happens when Anton Chigurh and Daniel Plainview have lunch, “My Dinner with Andre”-style?

How about a career overview for the directors, featuring such topics as, “Which Coen character ensemble is more tragic: ‘No Country’ or ‘Fargo’?” and “How in the world did you film the “Raising Arizona” car chase? There’s no better time to explore these queries than with a celebration of the Coens’ crowning film.

-And what about the blooper reel? There’s no way everyone was in “Raging Bull” method mode during the shoot. Do the Coens pull any Clooney-esque pranks on set? Did Javier Bardem blow any of his most menacing lines, accidentally pull out a chocolate quarter for the “Call It, Friendo” scene or get caught singing early Beatles tunes in his mop-top wig?

But no. All that’s learned of an intriguing meeting-of-the-giants project is what the cast, not McCarthy and barely the Coens, thinks about the story. By slacking on the extras, Paramount Vantage has missed out on one of the most valuable DVDs in cinematic history. There’s still a chance for the Criterion Collection to pick up the project and they’re welcome to the above blueprint. If they follow through, say “hello” to a true collector’s item.

-Edwin Arnaudin