Asshole-free zone

The crowd at last Wednesday’s Modest Mouse show at The Ryman was a mixed bag: young kids who have “Float On” on all their party mixes, indie rock hangers-on, people assuming that seeing Johnny Marr play with the Pacific Northwest’s finest was the closest they were ever going to get to seeing The Smiths, Band of Horses fans and probably one or two schlubs who caught the American Idols doing that MM cover during one of their Ford-sponsored music videos. The Band of Horses we remembered from last year’s show at Exit/In had swelled to six members, enabling their rich, dynamic sound to fill the big ol’ place. We were lucky enough to be seated right behind the band’s families—nothing like square-as-hell, middle-aged white people going apeshit over their indie rock progeny finally making it good. (It really was sweet and even touching. Really. Can’t we ever have a snark-free moment?) BOH’s new songs sounded big and pretty and melodic, making us itch for the October release of their follow up to Everything All the Time. Modest Mouse took the stage with Marr on one side and Isaac Brock all the way on the other—dueling egos, perhaps? Every time Marr took a solo, the room exploded with appropriate gusto. Brock managed not to say anything too asshole-ish and Modest Mouse’s clangy pop (anchored by two drummers) created quite the head-nodding cacophony.

Hands off my Privates

When we arrived at Local Honey Friday, the night was warm and the beer was buzzing, or was it the other way around? Either way, Hands Off Cuba (joined by Jonathan Marx on samples and effects box) were already midway through their set of glitchy soundscapes. Keyboardist/guitarist Ryan Norris is a bewitching watch: he seems totally unaware of the audience as he hunches over his instruments coaxing out swipes of this, squiggles of that. The sky had threatened to rain all night and move the whole shebang inside. But the warm wind, swaying branches draped in white light and the pinging rain were a perfect complement to the band’s ambient hum and swelling warble, and it occasionally produced moments of near-cinematic wonder. Up next were Ocelots, who picked up the pace with their jammy math rock, full of spastic stops and starts. But the night belonged to The Privates, who, in spite of not playing around town in months, still proved that they’re one of the best bands on the scene: it’s high-stakes pinball rock, tight and loose, full of stabs and swipes of brash guitar riffs and singer/guitarist Dave Paulson’s achy whine. And holy shit, Rollum Haas is one badass drummer: king of the galloping beat, he who commits completely to every fill, most riveting dude on a kit you can watch in the 615. The crowd filled in, the beer got warmer and the buzzes got stronger. And after a set that breezed through standout tracks like the angsty sing-along “Heart’s Got a Hole” and the insanely propulsive “Pocari Sweat,” the boys finished off their set with a hilariously awesome cover of Lenny Kravitz’s “Are You Gonna Go My Way?” It left us saying the same thing we always say after a Privates’ show: “Play ‘Johnny B. Goode’!”

The Kweller effect

After waiting in a line full of fresh-faced Vandy kids at Exit/In, we were pleased to find the Ben Kweller & Tim Fite show hadn’t bothered to start on time. We spotted Fite in the crowd, though, and chatted him up about the success of his latest album, Over the Counter Culture, ’til he politely excused himself for showtime and proceeded to bemuse and amuse the packed house (and it wasn’t with his seersucker overall shorts). It’s safe to say the crowd waiting for Kweller’s fresh-faced pop wasn’t expecting Fite’s lo-fi folk-rap and anti-consumerism message, but his energy and creative video aids, which included audience eye exams and elementary illustrations, soon had the kids responding to his call for burning down police stations. Then Kweller delivered a batch of honey-sweet indie-pop that had most of the crowd singing. He has a polished stage presence, though we’re pretty sure we could do without him referring to himself as “The Kweller.” At one point, he announced that many of his friends had moved to Nashville, including Brendan Benson of The Raconteurs, who was in attendance. And with plans for an upcoming country album, maybe The Kweller will be relocating here as well.

She’s your girl

As far too many talented young artists have learned, getting signed to a major in Nashville isn’t the final step before actually seeing your face looking back to you from a record-store rack—in fact, it’s sometimes an impediment. That’s what South Carolina native Lauren Lucas discovered when she was signed to Warner Bros. Nashville just long enough to see her 2005 debut shelved after the first single sputtered out at No. 52. Finally freed of her corporate bonds, she took matters into her own hands. The result is the independently released If I Was Your Girl, a vibrant EP of soul-kissed country-pop whose actual, honest-to-god physical existence was celebrated with a CD release party at 12th & Porter Monday evening. Lucas’ natural charisma and versatile voice—ranging from a husky croon to full-on soul belting—were deservedly the focus throughout a 45-minute set backed by her aptly named Bad Ass Band, with guitarist Rob McNelley’s stinging leads a standout. The whole shindig could be seen on the Internet through Lucas’ MySpace page—just one of the rapidly evolving technologies whose reach and power may give future Nashville newbies a valid reason not to sign on the dotted line in the first place.

We came, we creamed, we conquered

Sometimes it’s hard to know if your relationship is ready to take that next step. For instance, were we ready to meet our Nashville Cream audience in the flesh? There were some awkward moments, to be sure (frequent commenter TobintheGnome, as it turns out, is not actually a gnome), but we had a great time at at Mercy Lounge on Saturday, celebrating one year of bloghood. Foremost, our love for JEFF is steadfast and true, and that wasn’t just the dollar beers talking—there were dollar shots, too! Anyway, after DJ Trashley, Janet Timmons from Out the Other, Chris Slack and our resident Cream Master took turns spinning some ramma-lamma dance tunes, the brothers Orrall showed once again why we heart them so—by rocking the fuck out. Even heretofore skeptical Cream commenters whose (fake) names will go unmentioned found themselves caught up in the riff-rocking turbulence, and loving it. DJ Bawston Sean then shook what was left of our faces with a set of skanky Miami booty bass. Overall lubrication reached a critical mass around this time, and it all gets a bit hazy after that. Lee Stabert spinning a Kyle Andrews dance remix? Shea Steele and Amanda Valentine from Local Honey...Michael Madrid’s alter ego, Rio...birthday cake...glitter...uh, who’s kissing me right now in this photo booth? Hi, I’m druuuuunk. Yeah, it was kinda like that. See you all next year.

She’s your girl

As far too many talented young artists have learned, getting signed to a major in Nashville isn’t the final step before actually seeing your face looking back to you from a record-store rack—in fact, it’s sometimes an impediment. That’s what South Carolina native Lauren Lucas discovered when she was signed to Warner Bros. Nashville just long enough to see her 2005 debut shelved after the first single sputtered out at No. 52. Finally freed of her corporate bonds, she took matters into her own hands. The result is the independently released If I Was Your Girl, a vibrant EP of soul-kissed country-pop whose actual, honest-to-god physical existence was celebrated with a CD release party at 12th & Porter Monday evening. Lucas’ natural charisma and versatile voice—ranging from a husky croon to full-on soul belting—were deservedly the focus throughout a 45-minute set backed by her aptly named Bad Ass Band, with guitarist Rob McNelley’s stinging leads a standout. The whole shindig could be seen on the Internet through Lucas’ MySpace page—just one of the rapidly evolving technologies whose reach and power may give future Nashville newbies a valid reason not to sign on the dotted line in the first place.

We came, we creamed, we conquered

Hey, ya’ll, we got really trashed this weekend and made bad personal choices, leaving us with a moral hangover that no hair of the dog we can think of can remedy. Tell us how to stop this cycle of abuse at thespin@nashvillescene.com. For more photos from the Nashville Cream party and the Ben Kweller show, visit nashvillescene.com.

Sometimes it’s hard to know if your relationship is ready to take that next step. For instance, were we ready to meet our Nashville Cream audience in the flesh? There were some awkward moments, to be sure (frequent commenter TobintheGnome, as it turns out, is not actually a gnome), but we had a great time at at Mercy Lounge on Saturday, celebrating one year of bloghood. Foremost, our love for JEFF is steadfast and true, and that wasn’t just the dollar beers talking—there were dollar shots, too! Anyway, after DJ Trashley, Janet Timmons from Out the Other, Chris Slack and our resident Cream Master took turns spinning some ramma-lamma dance tunes, the brothers Orrall showed once again why we heart them so—by rocking the fuck out. Even heretofore skeptical Cream commenters whose (fake) names will go unmentioned found themselves caught up in the riff-rocking turbulence, and loving it. DJ Bawston Sean then shook what was left of our faces with a set of skanky Miami booty bass. Overall lubrication reached a critical mass around this time, and it all gets a bit hazy after that. Lee Stabert spinning a Kyle Andrews dance remix? Shea Steele and Amanda Valentine from Local Honey...Michael Madrid’s alter ego, Rio...birthday cake...glitter...uh, who’s kissing me right now in this photo booth? Hi, I’m druuuuunk. Yeah, it was kinda like that. See you all next year.

 

Hey, y’all, we got really trashed this weekend and made bad personal choices, leaving us with a moral hangover that no hair of the dog we can think of can remedy. Tell us how to stop this cycle of abuse at thespin@nashvillescene.com. For more photos from the Nashville Cream party and the Ben Kweller show, visit nashvillescene.com.