The kids from The Kindergarten Circus are more than alright
by Sean L. Maloney
- Three the Hard Way: The Kindergarten Circus
The Kindergarten Circus are, quite literally, a garage band. If you wander around Murfreesboro's Blackman neighborhood long enough, you're bound to hear their overdriven tornado blues punk reverberating off the aluminum siding of that sleepy suburban enclave. There's probably a member of Bucket City's finest parked out front to relay the message that the neighbors can't hear Dr. Phil blather on over all the racket. But this isn't the racket you'd expect from "kids these days"—no side bangs, no screamo and none of what a crusty old codger like me might call "that damn Warped tour shit."
No, The Kindergarten Circus are a garage band in the classic, post-British Invasion sense: blues-fueled adolescent angst with an emphasis on fuzzed-up freak-outs rather than emotional over-sharing and eyeliner. Among their peers, they're musical weirdos by virtue of being, well, pretty freaking normal. Guitarist Dillon Watson, bassist Logan Sissom and drummer Aaron "Lil Bill" Browning are the kind of kids every parent wants. They're all straight-A students, two of 'em are on their way to making Eagle Scout and they're all—outside of what the band call their "sour patch buncha crunch explosivsions"—amazingly well-mannered. They're good kids that just happen to channel the scuzziest, fuzziest strains of American music with a veracity that can only be derived from not having a license to drive, bills to pay or any of the other typical adult downers.
Recorded over the course of three years at Grand Palace Records, the Kindergarten Circus' self-titled debut LP (as in 12 inches of sweet, sweet vinyl LP) is like an overachiever's guide book to underground sounds. From the opening riff of "Cut N Torn," which sounds like it came straight from the Alvin Lee Guide to Guitar God-ness, to the spazzy '80s hardcore vibe of "So I Says to the Guy...," The Kindergarten Circus is equal parts youthful exuberance and academic excellence, influenced as much by Delta blues and Blue Cheer as it is by contemporaries like Jack White, The Dirtbombs and The Clutters. Hell, the back cover of the album is a parody of Who's Next, with the obelisk marking the geographic center of Tennessee standing in for the former High Numbers' pissing post.
The drums are so thunderous that you'd never guess the drummer weighs 100 pounds soaking wet and holding a phone book. The bass is so deep in the pocket, so sinuous, that you'd be forgiven for thinking it was The Ox and not a soft-spoken mop-top from Rutherford County. And the guitars—oh the guitars!—stand alongside some of the city's best six-string samurai in terms of intensity, emotion and sheer kick-ass-itude, and they're coming from a guy that can't even get into most clubs without a chaperone. Take one listen to the soaring solo on "Steel Canary" and try to name a local act that comes close to being that unhinged, that deliriously bonkers—betcha you can't.
Email music@nashvillescene.com.
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