A Lot Like Birds, Not to Reason Why, Early States, The Dreaded Diamond, Cryptics
Friday, Jan. 21, 2011 – The Refuge – Sacramento
Words by Bobby S. Gulshan – Photo by Cait Loper
The Refuge played host to an eclectic bill of hard-hitting bands from around Northern California. The Cryptics, a three-piece from Santa Cruz, Calif., opened the evening with a set of tunes that combined bite and sweetness. Part power pop, part jagged punk rock, The Cryptics relied on pulsing, driving rhythms and machine gun staccato guitar riffs. As the audience trickled into the space that serves double-duty as a Lutheran Church, the Cryptics took the chance to warm the crowd and prepare them for the night.
The Dreaded Diamond brought an unexpected hint of soul to the evening. The two-piece brother and sister act–featuring Juli Lydell on keys and vocals and Tyler Lydell on drums–combine a heavy percussive attack with melodies that at times soar and at other times lilt with emotional fragility. Despite only featuring two people on stage, there was no lack of presence. Juli’s stage persona is magnified not only by precocious lyrical content, but also her witty engagement with the audience. Songs like “Alphonse Muca” contain enough complexity to run the gamut from indie folk to soulful pop, making you wonder what Natasha Bedingfield might sound like if she had street cred.
Early States brought an air of big stage pomp, featuring a lighting rig and stage smoke that would be appropriate on an arena tour. However, the big-time stage setup was justified by the bright energy the Sacramento three-piece brought to the audience. A faithful cadre of fans crowded the front of the stage and danced to the techno-infused pop and sang along to infectious choruses. Early States sound relates to that of Muse without the paranoia, and in fact presents an epic send-up of an emerging generation flush with optimistic possibility. Fans sang along to “Stop Calling Me Out,” the chorus of which describes defiance in the face of frustration and judgment. The band ended with “Smoke in My Eyes,” a song driven by a jangly guitar riff reminiscent of classic U2 and a perfect coda to an energetic set.
“We’ve been called ‘moody,’” said Not to Reason Why guitarist Ian Simpson. In stark contrast to Early States, Not to Reason Why, a four-piece instrumental group from Petaluma, Calif., enveloped the venue in a sinuous darkness, like objects roughhewn out of obsidian. Combining hauntingly gentle piano melodies and arpeggiated guitar lines, Not to Reason Why lulled the audience into a reflective moment, and then would lambaste them with sonic dirges that would be well suited for the soundtrack to the end of days. The final tune, “Good Afternoon,” began with the bass player picking up a guitar, and the drummer switching to bass, as the band wove a tense lullaby that eventually arrived at epic, post-metal bombast as the drummer returned to his post and stark white light enveloped the stage during a powerfully sludging finale.
A Lot Like Birds closed out the evening with their pummeling brand of hardcore. The screams were accompanied by the melodic wails of Kurt Travis, formerly of Dance Gavin Dance, and the twin vocal attack added depth to the presentation. A Lot Like Birds convulsed with tense energy, attacking with a sonic barrage. Most of the songs they played remain untitled, but what’s vital is the energy. A Lot Like Birds are technically savvy, and some of the tunes proceed with a barely controlled chaos, as if it will fall apart at any moment, only to turn on a dime and crush you with a driving breakdown. These guys can play, and they definitely left a pint of blood up on that stage. The audience was whipped into frenetic frenzy, head banging and writhing to every single break. The final tune, “My Body at War,” drove the crowd into a swirling mosh pit. The pure catharsis of A Lot Like Birds was the perfect exclamation point on an evening of wide ranging sounds.
Consider This!
It doesn’t take too keen a memory to recall when the underground was rocked by a relatively new animal; a post-hardcore beast gnashing a row of melodic incisors, besmirched by a heavy metal overbite. The critics called it metal-core, then screamo, then a whole host of hyphenated hyperbole until a style of song that sprung from an Iron Maiden fever dream began to homogenize, embraced a pussycat’s slippery sheen, and is now essentially a safe haven for tough kids gone soft. It’s sad but true: Screamo is a fucking joke. Metal-core is a caricature in a Mall of America comic strip. The death rattle for a once mildly exciting punk rock overture has shaken its final clangs.
Sacramento’s Consider the Thief (nee Heartshed) has been toiling within the confines of this breakdown-heavy haze. They are set to release what will no doubt be regarded as either a complete about-face from what their fans expect, a risky career move in a still-fledgling existence, a “fuck you” to what would have surely been a cakewalk into the mainstream-or most likely all three. Guitarist Sean O’Sullivan, formerly of Dance Gavin Dance, attempts to explain the chronology of events leading to this spring’s release of Signs and Wonders.
“All of us paid our dues playing in heavier bands for years before this,” explains O’Sullivan. “After the release of Soldiers and Saints [the band’s self-released debut EP] we decided we wanted to take a leap of faith and write songs that didn’t rely on what had become a crutch for us: screaming and busy guitar/drum work.”
Soldiers… found the band contented in a sound equal-parts Vheissu-era Thrice and a just-crowning Thursday, emerging behind a wall of punishing metal riffs and algebraic time signatures, capped by guttural yelps and pin-prick melodies. It was an underground release that garnered the praises of everyone from Punknews.org to mega-hip glossy rag Alternative Press, who placed the group among their “100 Bands You Need To Know” in 2009.
While still unsigned, the band (rounded out by pianist/vocalist/guitarist Dryw Owens, vocalist/guitarist Jordan Wells, bassist Zack Walkingstick and drummer Lucas Allen) seemed to realize that their artistic bents remained malleable, and with a creeping disdain for the impending creative flat line of their young catalog, they turned a musical corner.
The process was a trying one for O’Sullivan.
“Writing this record was pretty intense for all of us,” says O’Sullivan. “The first song we wrote after the EP was the softest any of us had been a part of. There was that learning curve with the new material, how to go about writing more dynamic and emotive songs. I suffered writer’s block at one point and during that period experienced a lot of growth and was humbled by watching the other guys write.”
The result of such growth has ushered in an atmospheric wash of layered songwriting more akin to the vibrancy of UK sonic-rock supergroups like Radiohead, with a marked emphasis on lyrical themes. These themes rear most poignantly with takes on the Christian parables “The Good Samaritan” and “The Prodigal Son.” But O’Sullivan is quick to note the band’s neutral stance with regard to the presumed theological imprints on their music.
“It wasn’t really a purposeful thing at first,” explains O’Sullivan. “I personally feel it’s important for an album to have a well-rounded lyrical theme. My biggest worry with the lyrics on this record is that people would think that we’re some sort of bible-thumping Christian band. These stories Dryw sings about [are] just as powerful to an Atheist as they are a Wiccan or a Catholic. We’re not trying to convert anyone with a sing-song Jesus chorus; we just want to convey the power and relevance these stories still have.”
The fear of alienation, while something that most artists might invoke as tantamount, took a back seat for Consider the Thief in the process of writing their new material.
“We had a good laugh as we were writing these songs,” says O’Sullivan. “We knew that the kids who love our old material would most likely not gel that well with the new stuff. The vast majority of people have had nothing but good things to say.”
With their initial successes, O’Sullivan points out the band’s gratefulness for exposure on a national level while still remaining unsigned. Signs and Wonders will be self-released by the band, and should be available exclusively on iTunes by May, with a CD release show still in the planning stages. In the meantime, Consider the Thief is gearing up for its future.
“We’ve been so focused on writing and recording that we hadn’t really thought too far into the future, but we are now,” says O’Sullivan. “The reality is sinking in that we have to move on this—that this is something really important to us and, hopefully, to others, is really motivating us to spread it around.”
Breaking a mold that in previous bands they most assuredly helped create is bound to receive attention, good or bad. For the record, O’Sullivan summed it up as succinctly as possible.
“What bugs me most about the current music scene is the overwhelming fear of failure bands seem to have when it comes to doing their own thing,” he explains. “Bands are giving up because they can’t survive and we’re seeing good, hardworking bands break up or lose members to horrendously awful Auto-Tuned crunk groups, and there’s no desire to attempt something that might not pan out. I’m not saying we have that ideology of creativity cornered, but I can for sure say that the record we just wrote is as honest a record that I’ve ever been a part of, and I’m 100 percent proud of it and of the guys I work with. Hopefully people take notice of the bands that are working hard and support them so that they succeed…otherwise we’ll see screamo-crunk-whatever in the top 40!”
