The Spin
Mug Shot The Muggabears
Wizardz ’n’ blizzardz
Against the better advice of weathermen and our moms, we braved the elements Friday night to catch the Infinity Cat party
at Local Honey. Given the 6 p.m. start time, we were afraid we’d cut it
close showing up an hour later. Fortunately, things were far from
underway once we got inside. Only a handful of folks were milling about
the store, sipping cheap beer while the bands set up in back. We
chatted for over an hour as people filtered in, the snow fell
increasingly faster and The Muggabears
finally got things going. Hailing from Brooklyn and en route to SXSW,
The Muggabears clamored and jangled with noise straight out of the
Sonic Youth school of racket rock. While there still wasn’t quite a
full house, it didn’t take many folks to fill up the bedroom-size space
for which volume was not the least bit scaled down. Despite their
experimental obscurity, The Muggabears play some solid pop songs that
never let the dissonance or weirdness overpower. The tiny boutique was
comfortably crowded by the time Sisters—also
from Brooklyn—kicked off with an intro powered by a tiny Casio keyboard
that managed to attract only a fraction of the folks just before. What
followed was some ear-splitting power-pop executed by a shaggy-haired
guitar/drums duo, both reinforced with prerecorded tracks by way of a
CD player and a wall of amps that had most of us shielding our ears but
remaining no less attentive. Outside, the streets were now covered in a
thick, powdery blanket of fresh snow. There’s a fine line between a
brave devotion to rock ’n’ roll and the downright stupidity that
prevents fleeing to safety, but we obviously fell in the former
category, sticking around to catch Wizardz.
(Others exercised a little more common sense and bailed while the roads
were still navigable.) There was still a healthy-sized mob left, eager
to catch this new collaboration between members of minimalist DIY
sibling-rock duo JEFF and local basement show faves Meemaw. What
they’ve come up with is a dream catcher-adorned, muscle-toned mix of
punk, classic rock and a little Southern working-class camp value
thrown in for flavor. It’s quite possibly the perfect soundtrack to
blare from your restored Camaro, speeding through a sunny afternoon in
Smyrna while sporting an ironic handlebar mustache and matching trucker
hat. Unfortunately, our survivalist instincts kicked in mid-set, and we
too succumbed to Mother Nature’s threats to slip and slide through the
winter wonderland home.
Snow job
Fishtailing
down Eighth Avenue while assholes in SUVs do their best to sideswipe
every parked car on the street was not part of our plan to see De Novo Dahl
at Mercy Lounge Friday night. Usually, when Nashville meteorologists
say “two to four inches of snow,” we assume they mean “a flurry that
will freak out our mother-in-law, but won’t amount to anything.” How
were we supposed to know the Blizzard of ’08 wasn’t bullshit? The nasty
precipitation forced us to stay unpleasantly sober as we headed from
one gig to the next, down the treacherous but essentially empty roads
of our fair city—and it wasn’t really worth it. In DND’s defense, they
mail it in better than anybody around town, but we could tell their
heart wasn’t in it (with good reason). This show was their last
hometown gig before their major label debut, Move Every Muscle, Make Every Sound, drops
on March 25, and the place was empty. It should have been a triumphant
throw-down for the hometown heroes, but Mother Nature put the kibosh on
that. Ah well, sleet happens.
Re-up
As the snow melted Saturday, we found ourselves moved to try again and get out and hear some rock ’n’ roll—and Atlanta rockers The Selmanaires at The Mercy Lounge certainly seemed like the best option. Charleston’s happy-go-lucky pop troubadours The Explorers Club
took the stage to a timid crowd that situated itself in an awkward
crescent for the duration of their set. The Explorers Club’s
well-rehearsed four-part harmonies and full instrumentation were
energetic but more than just a bit sentimental. Let’s just say there is such a thing as being too influenced by The Beach Boys. Next came locals The Silver Seas,
who, by the looks of it, have clearly drawn a following among
pop-friendly 30-somethings. They played well in an inoffensive Billy
Joel type of way, but with The Selmanaires came the promise of some
pounding psychedelic fun. The crowd seemed a bit thin for a Saturday
night, but The Selmanaires were energizing as usual with their sincere
brand of modern punk. Their driving dance beats and bass lines
resembled the likes of Television and Gang of Four, and their chanting
falsetto vocals were in the vein of Can. Though some songs ran a bit
long, The Selmanaires’ performance was by far the best of the evening,
even if most of the crowd didn’t seem to know who they were.
Studiodrag Superdrag at Lake Fever Productions
Head trip in every key
The
Spin prides itself on two distinct qualities: the ability to find a bad
pun in just about any situation and our utter indifference to
celebrity, pseudo- or otherwise. We’ve spent years perfecting our
hipper-than-thou postures in hope of obscuring the fact that we are
basically just quivering little nerds with sweaty palms and unwieldy
record collections. This façade came crashing down last week when we
found out that Knoxville’s guitar-pop legends Superdrag were recording a reunion record with Jason Bullock and Joe Colvert at Lake Fever Productions
on Music row. (If that news doesn’t bring out your inner alterna-rock
fanboy, nothing will.) The band was in great spirits when we crashed
the session on Saturday, and we did a good job of controlling our
nerdgasm. The atmosphere was closer to a backyard game of horseshoes
than an album session, really, which makes us think that this could be
a return to the maximum fun that made us so excited back in the Buzz Bin days.
This week while you’re at work, we’ll be drunk! For updates on our exploits at SXSW, check nashvillecream.com for daily bloggarrhea.
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