Though originally from Virginia, Kelsey recently graduated from the University of Georgia with a cavalcade of neat degrees. She's written for other sites like Wide Open Country, Half Past, Seeing Trees Music, The Cropper, InfUSion Magazine, and Blurt. Kelsey’s greatest weakness is a large bowl of pho, and though she doesn’t know it yet, her friends will soon host a soup intervention for her. In her spare time she enjoys exploring abandoned buildings, crafting dad-humor puns, collecting vintage key chains, writing long lists that utilize the Oxford comma, and acting like Larry David.
Megafauna describe themselves as 90s post-rock, and the new video for “This Town” proves this comparison to be more than appropriate. The aggro Pixies-on-speed track makes good use of guitar shredding and a jarring 6/8 time signature to get the job done, and the distinct old time-alt feel pairs real well with the surreal imagery used.
Though obviously shot in much higher def than was available twenty years ago, the video borrows plenty of visual tricks from everyone’s favorite decade. The whole affair is very dream-like – sequence after sequence of stream-of-consciousness images appear, lacking context but still somehow making a grain of sense. The video’s heroine, played by lead singer Dani Neff, trips her way through seemingly unrelated memories – visiting the fair as a child, getting felt up by a dude at a bar, and journaling in her bedroom. Each memory leaves a literal imprint in the form of neon paint. Her suburban hood is subtly presented as stifling and duplicitous, a barrier overcome when Dani musses her white dress with enough paint to cover up the traces others have left on her. As a bonus, eagle-eyed viewers may notice the wink to Siamese Dream in the girl who stands in for Dani’s id.
This past Thursday night at the 40 Watt saw a packed, diverse evening of what rock has been up to in the past three decades. It was also the debut event for local startup Aria Promotions, and they did a damn good job – the show was almost sold out.
Opener Juna delivered sludgy, math-intwined boomers. Between the Prozac haze guitar chords, quirky time signatures, and buffet table drumming, they definitely qualify as new members of the emo revival. A few of their meandering guitar noodles seemed ripped straight from a Sunny Day Real Estate record. Despite technical issues at the beginning of the set, they were still able to churn out winding high-passion sonic explorations. Lead singer Hunter Whitehead is probably the most impassioned bassist the Classic City has ever seen, and I was halfway convinced drummer Sasha Schilbrack-Cole was gonna permanently maim his kit. They were also really, really loud – once again, thank the heavens for We’re hEAR For You.
Waitress was up next, and at this point it seemed that the night existed on an exponential \m/(>.<)\m/ graph. They sounded like a Black Flag-Descendents intermediary, and even on their slower, more intricate songs, they still sounded like a metal Dismemberment Plan. Lead Brian McGhee was beyond delightful, basically standing in as a stand up between their ultra-tight songs. He waxed poetic about everything from Clickhole to Cliff Bars, and was charitable enough to tell each of his bandmates just how hot they are. In terms of straight technicality, the night went to drummer Ryan Houchens, who gave me Whiplash if you know what I mean.
But then Monsoon took the stage, and holy SHIT. For just three Athens kids, they made a whole lot of really great noise. Singer and guitarist Sienna was a natural showwoman, prowling and climbing the stage like a feral bilingual lunatic. Their pseudo-Americanized J punk / coked up Beach Boys vibe is something I’ve been searching for my whole life and didn’t even know it. If Clocked were a band, it would be Monsoon. There’s nothing more enjoyable than watching three obvious best friends absolutely weird-out and wreck a set of songs that don’t quite sound like anyone else. I feel like an idiot for not having seen them before, and would now like to publicly swear my undying allegiance to this band.
Then Atlanta’s The Howling Tongues came on amidst smoke machines and a light show that would make Kanye West say, “Dudes, you’re doing a lot.” While a great technical band – they had clearly practiced their set and song changes ad infinitum – they were playing a bluesy brand of rock and roll that’s really not supposed to sound this rehearsed. They were pleasant enough, and on the surface they were great; but they felt an odd choice as city-slicker closers juxtaposed to the earnest, scrappy punk of the Athens bands that opened for them. Some garage rock bands who deal in Rolling Stones riffage fall victim to the uncanny valley of soul vs. precision, and it looks like the Howling Tongues are one such band. Their whole schtick felt too familiar – making a big show of chugging Jack Daniels; songs involving “I’ll give it to you” double entendres; women smoking cigarettes in red dresses. Every “Whassup Athens?!” and “How y’all doin’ tonight?!” platitude felt empty and forced. It didn’t help that lead singer Taylor Harlow asked permission to “play some rock and rooollll” from the audience between every.single.song, and his playful joshing of the crowd’s lack of energy became uncomfortable berating by night’s end. And I wasn’t the only one who noted the irony of the Tongues’ “Ain’t Too Proud To Beg” cover. Basically, this is a group who’s proper to their own detriment, and doesn’t appear comfortable in their own skin. Loosening up would do ’em a lot of good.
CHVRCHES’ 2013 debut The Bones of What You Believe was jam-packed with pop hooks, so it was only a matter of time until they covered a JT song. While the original is a groovy R&B number that foreshadowed Timberlake’s later back-to-basics work like The 20/20 Experience, it still had one leg in the sampled production of the 90s. CHVRCHES took the next logical step by infusing some slinky, space-y synths.
The result is a highly danceable piece of electropop that could easily be featured in Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century. Even if the melody is a little more robotic, singer Lauren Mayberry uses her plaintive high end to keep the vibe perfectly human. Yet the sparse arrangement is significantly more hair-raising, and makes CHVRCHES sound a bit more thirsty for revenge. Given that Timberlake first wrote “Cry Me A River” as a diss track to former flame Britney Spears — and we all saw how her life turned out — potential CHVRCHES belles and beaus should watch their backs.
