The Ettes, Shoot the Mountain, Lucky Pineapple and more
Low-hanging fruit
"I had to recognize their finesse and their gloriosity," one prominent Nashville rocker observed of Lucky Pineapple's performance at Springwater Friday night—but more on that later. We arrived at the bar shortly before the Pineapple's set began, to find what looked like the usual crowd of Springwater eccentrics. This group looked likely to be appreciative of the Louisville band's weirdo-rock, except for one fellow we spotted wearing an Armani Exchange T-shirt, dog tag necklace, backwards baseball cap and Bluetooth headset. Dude, that's not very rock 'n' roll.
Lucky Pineapple's setting up distracted us from this distressing situation. They performed as a six-piece, with the traditional guitars-bass-drums setup supplemented by a keyboardist and one band member (Dan Moore) who switched between trombone and a second drum kit. Guitarist/singer William Benton prefaced their set by remarking, "Lemme put on my Ron Asheton sunglasses," but we must protest that, unlike Asheton's trademark aviators, they were not pink.
Lucky Pineapple's songs are built up out of dark, suspenseful melodic lines (often carried by Brian Sweeney's keyboard) and solid, funk-influenced drum patterns, with guitars, trombone and other instruments layered over them. (The band brought with them a huge array of guitar effects pedals, as well as a plastic bin of unusual percussion instruments.) These multipart compositions earn comparisons to Captain Beefheart through their use of unexpected rhythmic shifts. Opener "Old Data" starts out as a funk song, abruptly changes time signature, and builds to a sort of tribal chant, with the line "old data, new signal" sung repeatedly.
The band was remarkably tight, and we were particularly impressed by J.C. Denison's fierce drumming. The taut, dramatic "Planet" was another highlight of the set. We asked Dave Cloud for his opinion on Lucky Pineapple. "I thought they were good," he replied. "Melodic; dynamic shifts of volume; sometimes sparse, sometimes busy." His bandmate Paul Booker chimed in, "Sounds like Pink Floyd."
Their set was over at 1 a.m., and we left without hearing much from Nashville's Pushy Lips. We have at least one new band to be a fan of, though.
Garage against the machine
On Saturday, we arrived at the Mercy Lounge in time to see featured act The Ettes, but too late to catch the two opening bands. Like intrepid journalists, we asked around about what we had missed. Mercy Lounge manager John Bruton gave a positive review of Atlanta's Gringo Star, comparing their sound to that of The Kinks, circa 1966. And one member of Shoot the Mountain declared his group's stage presence such that it "makes you wanna marry the bass player."
Well, now we wish we had seen it. We spotted Nashville's greatest funk DJ, Doyle Davis, in attendance, and when The Ettes started their set, the moderately sized crowd was attentive to the band's aggressive, fuzzed-out garage rock and even went so far as to tap their feet and nod their heads enthusiastically. But only one dancing couple dared go further. In their case, spirited dancing soon led to making out, but we've always said that's one of the dangers of garage rock.
The Ettes did their best to create an atmosphere conducive to necking. In songs like "Reputation" and "It Ain't You," lead singer Coco Hames delivered garage-y come-ons and put-downs in a soulful, slightly bored voice. Rounded out by bassist Jem Cohen and drummer Poni Silver, the band created an overpoweringly loud sound, with three-chord songs reminiscent of Nuggets-era rock. The band's fashions style reinforced their interest in '60s beat music; wearing a black-and-white striped shirt and heavy black eyeliner, Coco resembled Jean Seberg in Breathless, and Jem looked mod in a check shirt and Beatle boots.
Perhaps the crowd would have been bigger had a segment of Nashville's trendy young people not been at the Left Can Dance party at The End. Shortly after The Ettes finished their set, folks at the Mercy Lounge were preparing to make the trip across town. (An impromptu Thin Lizzy dance party that The Spin took part in didn't really catch on.)
But whenever The Ettes take the stage again, we'll be there.
Texas is the reason that George W. Bush was our president for eight years. Send your emo demos to thespin@nashvillescene.com.
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