The Spin
Keeping it in your pants
This past Thursday marked the end of An Unzipped Fly, Murfreesboro’s Campus Pub-hosted dance party. For over two years, local rockers, punks, rednecks, students, curious onlookers and alcoholics have gathered in the dive-to-end-all-dives to populate its small, makeshift dance floor. In the Fly’s early days, patrons crammed the club beyond capacity on the first Thursday of every month, lured by the beers on tap—notorious for both their vicious next-day headache and $1 price tag—or the selections of punk, new-wave, indie, hip-hop, funk and soul records spun by DJs Bawston Sean, Linwood Kirk, Jason Jones and a plethora of special guests. The party’s popularity had significantly waned in recent months, but during its heyday it was a good place for hipsters to try and impress one another by being the only person in the room to know all the words to “Sex Beat” by the Gun Club. When asked about the decision to zip it up and put away the junk, event organizer Bawston Sean said that it was simply time for him to “start acting like an adult and get a real job.” He added that his two-year stint at the Pub “probably shaved several more off of the end of my life.” We hear the Fly’s sister dance party, An Unbuttoned Blouse, will continue at the same location, but with far less regularity. We’ll miss the party—but not the hangovers.
Saturday night prayer meeting
With the fervor exhibited by the audience and the soft-toned preaching by the performers, one might think last Saturday night’s show by Anthony Hamilton and Heather Headley was on a Sunday morning. Headley’s powerful, Broadway stage-honed voice roared through a short set of songs from her recent album In My Mind. Like any good diva, Headley got the women in the audience out of their seats, hands waving in the air testifying to the hit title track and the R&B devotional “Change.” Still, her practiced stage manner and schmaltzy songs came off a bit too Vegas. Anthony Hamilton obliterated his bluesy singer’s image by stealing some of Bobby Brown’s old moves on some uptempo songs. Though he possesses one of the most distinct voices in R&B, he’s not the kind of singer to inspire the ladies to leap from their seats. In fact, the audience watched politely for much of the show, never really responding to his performance until his modern gospel song, “Pass Me Over.” The night’s future star, Van Hunt, was terrific, though he wasn’t well received by the crowd, who seemed to mistake Prince’s new friend for a local act and proceeded to talk while he was onstage. But Hamilton said he thought Hunt’s show was amazing. Takes one to know one. We might have done better just to catch Hunt’s small club show at 3rd & Lindsley instead.
Anthony Hamilton Photos: Joon Powell
Heather Headley
Van Hunt
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Gettin’ Whiggy with it
We’ve never seen plaid shorts in The Basement before, but then again we’ve never seen a drunk girl knock over a pile of equipment with her Louis Vuitton purse there either. But, strangely enough, it was that kind of night at Friday’s show by American Vinyl and The Whigs. American Vinyl’s lilting, jammy rock was a perfect match for all the popped collars and worn-out baseball caps in the crowd, but The Whigs’ driving indie rock seemed more suited to grungy T-shirts and Chuck Taylors. According to Zach Lever of American Vinyl, The Whigs have endeared themselves to the frat scene down at UGA in their hometown of Athens, and the tight-knit Greek network (probably via the magic of Instant Messenger or thefacebook.com) has managed to generate buzz among Vandy kids for the young trio. The Whigs rampaged through their loud set, sweating and giving our ears that delicious, this-can’t-be-good-for-us burn. Lead singer Parker Gispert, his guitar ramped up to his armpit, howled their grungy, infectious songs into the mic, while drummer Julian Dorio mesmerized us, his insistent playing anchoring the whole operation. He smacked his kit so hard that he routinely chucked broken sticks to the side, never missing a beat. The crowd, many of whom knew every word to The Whigs’ independently released debut, bounced, shouted and high-fived (another thing we don’t see so often at The Basement, unless its ironic). It’s hard to see how anyone could not like this band—though a few girls, probably dragged along by their boyfriends, did look like they’d rather be funneling a beer somewhere.
PBRs + septic leak = good times
Murfreesboro’s subterranean party circuit converged upon a modest two-bedroom home to see The Evergreen’s last house party and The Bang-Up’s last show. Not that it necessarily registered to many in attendance: during its six-month run, the “Evergreen” moniker never quite caught on, and if you didn’t have 5 bucks at the door, there was plenty of room behind the house to shotgun PBRs and have a drunken go at the rope swing. Those who arrived unfashionably early caught All We Seabees, Michigan transplants who play a punk-folk-country blend. The living room got a chance to breathe during a lukewarm set by newcomers Paper Mind before filling up again for the now mandatory How I Became the Bomb performance. Murfreesboro’s tongue-in-cheek New Wave darlings have been running a Nashville-Murfreesboro marathon for several weeks, and while they consistently draw an enthusiastic horde, some of their more dedicated followers are starting to show signs of fatigue. By the time The Bang-Up took the floor, a sense of anxiety was creeping in—possibly on the heels of the thrill-seekers who had crashed the nearby cemetery looking for a good time, and possibly from the older creeps who had somehow infiltrated The Evergreen’s den of nubile youth. Most of the crowd was trashed and a leaky septic tank had soaked the driveway with sewage water—girls stood impatiently in line for the one broken toilet while the dudes hit the bushes. Such a situation is rarely diffused by a raucous punk band, but it’s usually the best time for them to plug in. The Bang-Up were rusty but rowdy, and the crowd reacted in kind—jumping, shouting and shoving with the unabashed giddiness that marks only the best of Murfreesboro’s eclectic (and usually illegal) living room showcase scene.
Major-label blues
Art vs. commerce: Round 4,534,859. This Tuesday, local-band-done-good poster boys The Features announced on their website that they’d been dropped from Universal Records, a mere week before recording was to start on their second full-length album. According to the band’s official announcement, the reason for the drop wasn’t the typical major-label fallout, i.e., poor sales or a bad product. In fact, reviews of the quirky, organ-fused rock band’s debut record Exhibit A were highly favorable, with phrases like “ridiculously promising” bandied about in the press, and the band were gaining momentum in the UK. At issue was The Features’ refusal to cover a Beatles song for a commercial and possible placement on their upcoming record. Calls to the label got us nowhere—one Universal Records “spokesperson” for the band claimed not to know anything about the news, while a series of fumbled operator-directed transfers turned up zero. The band confirmed the facts, but is understandably not ready to discuss the details. They aren’t breaking up, and still plan to record the new album. The news is dismaying, but it’s not exactly the first time a major-label behemoth mucked up a perfectly good band’s career. The Features should take comfort that they aren’t in bad company. Many artists went on to put out great records long after being dropped by the corporate beast—can anyone say Wilco?
Rock the vote
Attention local rock fans: you might have already voted for public defender shoe-in Ross Alderman, but now you can vote for somebody who actually needs your help. At press time last week, we were only privy to The Pink Spiders video as it appeared on director Joseph Kahn’s website; little did we know the massive push the band’s video for the debut single “Little Razorblade” would get on TRL. In addition to the fact that the video was played in full (heck, Kelly Clarkson only got a 20-second clip), the promo featured an introduction to the band by VJ John Norris along with live shots and interviews from SXSW. The intro made so much of the fact that the band hailed not from L.A., New York, or Seattle, but from Nashville, that you’d think nobody had ever rocked some balls in Davidson County before. We know better, but it’s truly baffling that so few outside of here do.
So here’s the kicker: after one day of voting, the band were holding strong at number 12, and whether they, er, climb their way into the top 10, and the subsequent rotation frequency, depends on votes and votes alone. Love ’em or hate ’em, we all win when we spread the gospel of Nashville rock. Anything that draws attention to our burgeoning rock scene only means better crowds and record sales for touring bands, and the Spiders have made it a point to emphasize in interviews how many talented acts we’re breeding. Singer Matt Friction said he’s lost count of how often he’s been asked what it’s like being a rock band in Nashville. “At this point,” Friction says, “we say to interviewers, ‘You’re really still asking us this question?’ ” Vote—and brag about knowing them way back when they were getting ripped on NashvilleZine. (Go to www.mtv.com/onair/trl/vote or dial 1-800-DIAL-MTV.)
Muckraker
The South will rise again, and it won’t even take a zombie army of Confederate dead, cool as that would be. All it takes is the heroic effort of one proud Southern man: Joie Todd Kerns, drummer for Les Honky More Tonkies and a behind-the-counter fixture at Bobbie’s Dairy Dip. He’s the driving force behind Mucklewain, an inaugural music festival Aug. 19 at Whicker Park in Harriman, Tenn. In his words, the one-day, two-stage fest (named for a Melungeon hero of the American Revolution) is a celebration of Southern rock and culture “with no jam bands.” The lineup bears him out: Steve Earle, Allison Moorer, Jason Ringenberg, Todd Snider, Lucero, American Minor, Kevn Kinney, Trent Summar & the New Row Mob, Paul Thorn, Scott Miller & the Commonwealth, Dash Rip Rock, Ballhog, Garrison Starr, The Katies, Cory Branan, The Mark & Mike Show, Southern Bitch, The Tennessee Rounders, Mic Harrison & the Hi-Score and Caddle. Kerns says there’ll be a “tent revival” with regional arts and crafts and space for overnight camping; he even found a small overlook with three apple trees, where he plans to set up a memorial for his former boss and guiding spirit, the late E-Squared Records co-founder and Nashville music legend Jack Emerson. Tickets are on sale for $30 at www.ticketadvantage.com ; for more information, see www.mucklewain.com or check out the fest’s MySpace page.