For those who think classical and rock music are mutually exclusive, Ryker Jones’ “The Tragedy of the Memory” is proof that they can work together.Indeed, they can have a passionate and sensual love affair.A refreshingly unique blend of classical guitar and richly textured indie rock, “The Tragedy of the Memory” fluctuates between acoustic minimalism and soaring walls of sound.Enveloped in it all is Jones’ whispery vocals, sometimes recalling a less ragged Elliott Smith, often layered in warm intricate harmonies.
The diverse array of songs range from the jovial strumming and Beach Boys harmonies of Why You Walk Alone to the mournful waltzing Help Me Continue, in which Jones’ sprightly classical guitar is nowhere to be found.Jones’ dexterity on the guitar is showcased in the album’s only instrumental piece Canon, a beautifully arranged tapestry of classical guitar melodies.
Sometimes simple and to the point and at times abstract, Jones’ lyrics are consistently strong.In Help Me Continue, words and phrases repeat like a broken record (“Would you tell me, would you tell me…”), evoking the desperation of a break-up victim who is literally falling apart.System’s ever-repeating string of lyrics succinctly encapsulates a stifling uninspired society: “System is valuable to ensure immunity to ensure security…No choice now it has been proven that there is no need for novel thoughts at all.”
Occasionally, as in the last song Tomorrow, words are lost in the sheer density of instrumentation.Only at these moments does one wish there wasn’t so much going on.Nevertheless, this one-man-band has successfully created an unconventional and vibrant blend of old and modern sounds. www.myspace.com/rykerjones.
Produced by Swim Party and Jacob Feinberg-Pyne Recorded by Mario Quintero Mixed by Jacob Feinberg-Pyne Mastered by John Golden
Infused with dreamy textural guitar and punchy reverb-drenched vocals, Swim Party’s new album dips a tentative toe into the indie sea but never musters up the courage to dive. The precariousness of Eric Tremblay’s voice, which weakly channels Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse, is charming at the outset. As Tremblay wavers from note to note, the listener waits for him to take off with a sly smile …and waits…and waits… Pleasant anticipation turns to chagrin, however, as the vocals float endlessly in an unmelodic abyss. Tremblay’s guitars attempt to make up the difference, swelling into instrumental cacophonies that drown the vocals rather than lifting them out of the monotony. Worse are the painfully slow break-downs that halt songs like “Parliament of Rocks” and “Who Even Are You” in their tracks to drag the listener through a rambling cymbal-heavy quagmire before climbing back into repetitive verse.
“The Kids are a Drag” is one of the best tracks of the bunch, boasting the closest thing to a chorus and a tangible melody, which Tremblay sings with conviction. Rich harmonies give the song a powerful boost, endowing the vocals with some strength against a wall of jangling guitars. Instrumentally, the piece is beautiful, erupting into a cinematic mini-symphony reminiscent of Explosions in the Sky. Yet the song lacks direction, meandering from one disjointed section to the next without fully capturing the listener. One is given a glimpse of Tremblay’s vocal potential in the last song, “I’d Rather Be a Mountain King,” which finds him in a surprisingly low register. Here, Tremblay discovers his strength – the dry shaky tenor gives way to a strong smooth baritone, confidently riding each note. The overlapping layers of his voice undergo a hypnotic call and response pattern but stop there, interrupted by an assaulting battery of drums and spacey guitar. Tremblay’s voice disappears in the din with the exception of distant “ahhh”’s in the background. Thus, the song feels divided, half vocal-centric and half instrumental.
Though Pixie Dust on the Blood Range has its moments, the album tends to wander in an aimless storm of sound. The energy and diversity of Swim Party’s EP “Sewing and Blood” seems to have disappeared with the loss of former member Nadia Shihab, who left the band to pursue research in Turkey. Though he plays the guitar and sings, Tremblay is unable to strike a balance between the two. His vocals are simply unable to carry the sheer intensity of the instruments. Hope can be found, however, in the two strongest songs on the album, which provide a taste of what the band can and hopefully will become in Shihab’s absence. (Self-released) http://www.myspace.com/swimparty
Juliette Commagere’s solo album “Queens Die Proudly” certainly stands out from the recent slew of sparse acoustic indie albums breathing fresh air into the music industry.From Commagere’s girl-next-door voice to the synthesizer-heavy instrumentals, the album drips pop and even ventures into Broadway musical territory. The chorus of “Hearts,” for example, adds an unexpectedly dramatic wash of reverb-soaked choral harmonies behind Commagere’s voice, which fades into an Enya-esque echo effect.Barely an authentic instrument can be heard as the singer’s “love of Tangerine Dream-esque arpeggiators and synthesizers” is fully indulged.Though Commagere fancies “these songs as simple statements that try to evoke a certain melancholy and feeling of isolation that no matter what never seems to go away,” the result is disappointingly emotionless, even plastic.
The lyrics, spoken so crisply by the singer, come across like a young adult’s melodramatic, sometimes nonsensical, attempt at poetry.The last track, for instance, strives to tell the painful tale of a young woman leaving a destructive relationship behind.But Commagere fails to reach deeply into the emotion of the song, lolling redundantly on the surface:
I, I need to get away
I hold you back, I bring you down
There’s only tears when I’m around
I, I need to run away
I don’t know where I’ll go or how
But a different person I’ll become…
Paired with the coldness of an all electronic backdrop, the poor lyrics are glaringly obvious.Void of tangible warmth or softness, the song does little to touch or draw in the listener. In her press release, the singer puts up an angsty front: “I don’t want to say this record was inspired by a deep depression, but fuck that—like every other asshole out there—it was.”Unfortunately, the “deep” depression she describes translates musically into more of a forced attempt at Evanescence-esque Gothicism than the bearing of an artist’s soul.
Commagere’s bell-like voice provides a comforting remedy to the synthetic atmosphere, and her vocal prowess is exemplified in the layers of impressive harmonies woven into a number of tracks.“Skyscraper” is one of the most interesting of the group, beginning with a choir of layered Commageres, languidly intertwining in effortless harmony before moving rather jarringly into verse.
But the album as a whole is a far cry from being “a little bit Kate Bush, a little bit Bjork with some Chet Baker,” as Commagere wrongly aggrandizes her project.Over-produced and under-felt, the music craves soul and honest emotion. Perhaps Commagere should ditch the synthesizers next time and dig a bit deeper.
Nico Vega – Nico Vega Produced by Linda Perry and Tim Edgar Mixed by Tchad Blake
Juliette and the Licks and the Noisettes are among the kickass female-led rock bands to recently explode from the woodwork. Joining the ranks of rockers, Nico Vega should make popettes like Colbie Caillat and Sara Bareilles quiver in their boots.
Lead vocalist Aja Volkman’s pipes have been compared to Karen O’s of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, but her effortless transitions between sultry smoothness and growling scream-yells respectively reflect Chan Marshall of Cat Power and Brody Dalle of the Distillers. A lesser voice would drown in the wall of electric guitars, fierce drums and orchestral synth melodies that fill up the majority of the album’s space. But Volkman soars on top of it all with astounding authority.
Before signing with Myspace Records, the band was already drawing L.A. crowds with their energetic shows characterized by Volkman’s theatrical and oft-scantily clad performances. Like their onstage dynamic, Nico Vega’s 2008 self-titled debut refuses to settle, with songs swooping and diving between gritty and gentle, edgy and poppy. Burn Burn is one of the cleaner tracks, welcoming listeners into the album with a hail of drumbeats and Rich Koehler’s crackling surf guitar. Gravity is arguably the catchiest of the bunch, with its bouncy melody and the chorus’ sassy and infectious “Nananananananana!”
One cannot question, however, the sheer awesomeness of Volkman’s voice and Nico Vega’s truly unique and diverse sound. Melodically, the songs are vigorous, surprising and expertly crafted. Their energy and innovation will undoubtedly catapult Nico Vega beyond L.A. fame. (Myspace Records) www.myspace.com/nicovega
Red lips, pompadours, tattoos and circle skirts swung and swaggered into the Mystic Theater last month to see Wayne “The Train” Hancock play.Ladies chatted in tight clusters while greasers with slicked-back dos and indifferent expressions hung in cool packs.Cigarette lighters flicked.Grinning rakishly, a young guy, fedora jauntily tilted over his eyes, strode through the door with a giggling blonde, her hair done up in neat pin curls, a flower behind her ear and a crimson pencil skirt fitted snugly over trim hips.Her stockinged legs balanced impressively atop a pair of killer patent leather pumps, and she peered coyly out from under a veil of false feathery lashes. Hot damn.
These are the cats and chicks of the North Bay rockabilly scene.They gather to be seen, exclusively, it seems, by each other.Few deigned to answer questions from an “outsider,” especially a young female reporter whose pen and notebook might as well have been a gun and holster.Defiant refusal followed sullen rebuff; passersby shied away.“I’m not interested in the media,” said one fellow.“I don’t need any press.”
People trickled into their seats, and Buckaroo Bonet began a rambunctious opening set packed with covers, including Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire,” and “Tequila,” by the Champs.“Any drinkers in the house?” yelled the greasy-looking lead singer with a questionably authentic Southern accent.A few hoots arose from the mostly skeptical audience. “Yes, we like drinkin’ in this band here,” he grinned.A pristine pair of Adidas sparkled on his feet.During each song, he thrust his lanky body about like a guitar-playing praying mantis, contorting his goateed face to emphasize the intensity of each strum.As if by magic, the drummer’s shirt slowly came unbuttoned throughout the show until it disappeared completely. The crowd was unmoved.
By contrast, the entry of Hancock’s band was met with a roar of excitement, and couples poured onto the dance floor. “Good luck getting people to talk to you,” smiled a boy in plaid shirt and thick-rimmed glasses as he twirled and dipped me around the floor.Skirts ballooned around us as experts kicked up their heels to the thumping rhythms of real Hillbilly swing.My partner explained that the general hostility had been a reaction against the media’s tendency to make subcultures like theirs look canned.“I mean, did you see that opening band up there?That guy in his Hot Topic belt and Adidas sneakers?Rockabilly’s about a nostalgia for a simpler time.Where does Adidas fit into any of this?”With Hancock’s voice challenging the likes of Hank Williams and the old fashioned elegance of the Mystic’s auditorium encompassing a sea of vintage-clad dancers, anyone would have believed we’d indeed traveled back in time. “It’s not a fad,” he assured me.“It’s a culture.Few people get that.”
All Mama’s Children
A mergence of the terms “rock ’n’ roll” and “hillbilly,” the actual word rockabilly was originally ascribed to a style of music played in the 1950s that blended country and western and rhythm and blues styles.Wanda Jackson’s growling electric voice ripped across traditional blues instrumentals sped up and infused with heaping amounts of upright bass, pounding keys and twangy guitar.Carl Perkins’ silky croon paved the way for Elvis Presley, he of the swiveling hip and insolently curled lip.The King took rockabilly music to the mainstream with his massive genre-crossing marketability. In the process, much of the raw authenticity was diluted; glitz and showmanship were the hallmarks of the most commercially successful acts.
Rockabilly music’s popularity slowly fizzled out in America after the 1960s, making its way over to Europe and the UK in the ’70s.Musicians who could no longer attract American audiences played to enormous crowds overseas.A culture developed around the music as kids adopted the old looks and lifestyles of their parents.Rockabilly fashion was inspired by the non-mainstreamers of the 1950s – the hoods and the toughs, the bad girls, black R&B artists and hot rod-racing WWII vets, whose love for engines also became a major part of modern rockabilly culture.By the 1990s, rockabilly slowly made its way back to the U.S.Weekender bashes – rockabilly party weekends featuring car shows, burlesque and pin-up competitions, parties and more – were started and quickly drew thousands of attendees.This April, the 11th annual Viva Las Vegas weekender, one of the most popular in the U.S., hosted a Tiki pool party, Dekes guitar geek show and jive competition, among other events.Famous old and modern rockabilly bands from all over the world, including Laura Lee Perkins and the Bop-Tones, came to play.
“I think what makes rockabilly great is that it kind of takes you back in time – the clothing, the cars, the style – to the ’50s, and that’s when our country was probably at its best,” says Todd “Troublemaker” Jenkins, photographer and owner of the Santa Rosa-based pin-up photography company Custom Culture Images.“Life was easier back then and simplified, and people were happy, I guess. Probably everybody who’s in the rockabilly scene now wasn’t born in the ’50s, so it’s cool,” he says.“Looking back at pictures of your grandparents and seeing them in cuffed jeans and slicked back hair – it makes you proud.”
Perhaps but let’s be honest – the ’50s weren’t the best time for anybody who wasn’t white, and they weren’t the best time for anybody who wasn’t male.“And you had to wear a girdle!” says Christina Palomo, owner of the Santa Rosa shop Skirt Chaser Vintage.“I think it’s natural that you get this sort of progression after enough time passes.We forget what it was like to have to wear those things, and we become able to make our own choices.Then some of us are going to choose to have this sort of aesthetic.We’re going to wear makeup and we’re going to do our hair up big because we can, and it’s fun!”
Put Your Cat Clothes On
The vintage aesthetic Palomo hails can be adopted lightly or taken to the extreme, depending on how dedicated an individual chooses to be.A last desperate attempt at gaining an interview at the Hancock show landed an articulate brunette named Marissa Patrick, clad head to foot in vintage – a blue flower print dress, white pointy toed pumps, a matching white purse, expertly styled hair and makeup and even a pair of white gloves.Beaming graciously, she agreed to chat.
“[My boyfriend and I] live in a 1940s house.Everything in it is vintage, from the kitchen to the towels,” she explains.“You have to have an eye for it.I go on eBay a lot.”
EBay? Apparently being vintage-friendly doesn’t have to mean total luddism.“We embrace technology completely,” Palomo says.“That’s how I started [Skirt Chaser Vintage].I was doing eBay for three years beforehand.Most rockabilly people I know spend a lot of money on eBay.”
Though appearance has a lot to do with it, vintage collecting is also about a social and environmental consciousness.“It’s recycling,” says Heather Van Doorn, co-owner of hip Sebastopol eatery Starlight Wine Bar and Restaurant. “You know it’s going to last, rather than some crappy new thing you can buy that you know will end up in a landfill.”
Hot rod building also combines a vintage aesthetic with a crafty recycling sensibility.“We find swap-mates and trade with friends,” Palomo says, “and sometimes you have to make the stuff yourself.Sometimes you have to fashion things out of unexpected parts.”
Hot rods are typically American cars whose engines have been modified, or “hopped up,” for higher performance.The term “hot rod” was possibly derived from the contraction of the words “hot roadster,” open roadsters being favorite cars to modify for their convenient light weight.
Hot rodding took off at the end of WWII, when returning soldiers who had been trained in technical service sought outlets for their new expertise.Old Fords, Model T’s, A’s and B’s were among the cars they modified to reduce weight and improve aerodynamics, and dry lake beds and abandoned air fields became racing grounds. Leather jackets may be more of a fashion statement today, but they were functional for motorcycle racing at the time.
“Back then they didn’t have all of the safety precautions we do now,” says Heather’s husband, Ted Van Doorn, an avid vintage car and motorcycle collector.“Airplanes would land in the airfields during the drag races.They’d never let that happen today – too many concerns and liabilities.”
But a revival of club racing has seen more properties, such as Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert, lifting restrictions and hosting races due to huge demand.
Born to Rock
In this forward-moving, increasingly developed world, it’s a wonder anybody’s looking back to the ’30s, ’40s or ’50s at all.But those aiming to skirt the mainstream find rockabilly to be a refreshingly unique blend of the old and new.A large portion of rockabilly folks transitioned into the culture from the anti-establishment world of punk rock.Some bands, following the lead of South London group The Meteors, took the aggressive hard-edged style of punk music and punched in elements of traditional country and swing, – like the stand-up bass and tremolo on the guitar – creating the intermediate genre of psychobilly.
“Psychobillies,” as fans are called, still don the wild colorful hair dos, tattoos and ripped garb from the punk days, but they borrow from rockabilly fashion as well, seeking out the most taboo styles they can find: prison stripes, bondage gear in honor of the notorious pin-up icon Bettie Page, leopard print and dramatic makeup.An obsession with old science fiction and horror films also characterizes the genre, sometimes called Mutant Rockabilly, adding an eerie kitschy edge to psychobilly lyrics and shows.During an infamous performance of their hit song “I Was a Teenage Werewolf,” Lux Interior of The Cramps crawled and gnawed at chords on the floor in his best impersonation of the fictional creature.
In researching their favorite psychobilly bands and discovering their rockabilly influences, some psychobillies were turned on to that style of music as well as the more classic looks that went with it.From there, many chose to give up their rougher punk and psychobilly backgrounds for the gentler world of rockabilly.But mentalities stayed the same.“We may have left behind the music, but I think some of the ideals are similar,” Palomo says.“Individuality is a huge part of it.A social consciousness is part of it.Not that we don’t dirty the air with our hotrods, but we feel that we make up for it with all of the recycling.”
The retro move into rockabilly was also an attempt to stay part of something authentic and unexploited as psychobilly became increasingly popular with young scene-seekers.“I became more comfortable with rockabilly,” says 20-year-old pin-up model Lorin Estes, known as Miss Lorin Rose to the pin-up world.“The whole psychobilly scene is getting a little out of hand.I mean, Hot Topic got ahold of that basically.It’s kind of being looked down on.”
Hey, Good Lookin’
Out of the rockabilly scene comes the faux-scandalous world of pin-up culture, which has seen young divas with names like Dayna DeLux, Dita Von Tease and Heidi Van Horne modeling for well-known rockabilly retailers and gracing the pages of hot rod and pin-up magazines.Modern pin-up photography borrows from the popular WWII GI escapist fare of Betty Grable and Lana Turner to ’50s glamour girl Marilyn Monroe and the not-so-girl-next-door, Bettie Page.Models wear everything from retro bikinis, to tight-fitted “wiggle” dresses to corsets and back-seamed stockings.Affectionately cheesy props, such as parasols, classic cars or old microphones make playful sidekicks, and nudity is usually only implied.
“[Pin-up’s] more of a tease,” says Miss Lorin Rose, a junior at Sonoma State University.“That’s kind of what I like about it is it’s not like ‘Here I am, here are my boobies!’” she laughs.“It’s classy, you know?You see so many models out there who are just like spread eagle, and it’s like, what are you doing?Why would you advertise yourself like that?There’s just no class at all these days.And that’s why I like pin-up, because it’s classic.”
Many are drawn to pin-up because of its open mind toward all body types.“I think pin-up photography is great for the fact that you don’t need to be a model,” say Jenkins who, aside from taking photographs, plays stand-up bass for local rockabilly band 1/4 Mile Combo.“You can be your average Jane, and you don’t have to be stick skinny.You don’t have to have the perfect figure.As long as you’re happy with what you have and you’re comfortable in your own skin, that shows through the camera.”
Miss Lorin Rose, whose first pin-up shoot ever was as Miss August in Jenkins’ 2008 pin-up calendar, started modeling in part to prove that she didn’t have to have a waif-like body to succeed.“Friends and boyfriends told me I could never be a pin-up model because I wasn’t skinny enough,” she says.“So when I moved out here I decided I wanted to prove everyone wrong back at home.I mean, I’m not a size two.That’s another reason why I like pin-ups – because I can actually go somewhat far in it without having to diet or become anorexic or anything.”For the record, Miss Lorin Rose is a knockout and just the size a healthy gal should be.
Modern day pin-up incorporates a little something for everyone, blending a more open mindset with the vintage aesthetic.In the ’50s, Bettie Page made history when she donned her dominatrix attire and posed for bondage and fetish photographs (illegal back in those days!), opening doors for women to have a little more fun behind the camera. “I think some people get the idea that maybe we’re into this kind of cheesy Donna Reed kind of nice thing,” Palomo explains.“But really, we all come from this sort of punk background.We love the seedy side of it.We love Bettie Page in her six-inch leather heels wielding a whip.It’s a much more empowered vision of women.”
Though they look glamorous in pictures, most pin-up models aren’t rolling in the bucks.“Making a living off pinups is almost impossible, unless you’re down south [in L.A.] and have a contract,” Miss Lorin Rose explains.Yet the field draws an increasing number of ladies excited to dress up and flirt with a camera – dough or no dough.
Some may argue that pin-up is just another way to put women on display for male objectification.But in a time when a woman came this close to earning a presidential nomination, the ability to express one’s sexuality can be considered just another freedom.“We can do whatever we want now,” says Heather Van Doorn.“One day you could wear your cute little low-cut pin-up outfit, and the next day you can throw on your overalls and working boots!”
Bunny Yeager, who began her career as a fashion model herself, is one of the most notable pin-up photographers in the world.Her shots of Bettie Page, who Yeager helped greatly on her road to fame, are notably some of the most beautiful.Painter Mabel Rollins Harris is also famous for depicting female nudes in her art, often placing them in ethereal settings or natural landscapes.Endowed with a feminine perspective, Yeager’s photographers and Harris’ paintings took the sleaziness out of pin-up.“It wasn’t just a lecherous man slobbering on his canvas,” laughs Van Doorn.“They aren’t campy.”
Glad All Over
Back on the steps at the Mystic, Marissa Patrick brushed a curl from a floral printed shoulder. “I just look at it as this is what I’ve always grown up in,” she said.“My grandmother showed my sister and me how to do our hair when we were little.I have a huge love for ’40s and ’50s fabrics.We drive hot rods, we go to concerts and listen to old music.”
Streams of tired dancers scurried to the bar, flushed and just slightly mussed from the night’s exertions.In the background, Hancock’s flawless yodeling floated pleasantly over a foot-tapping melody and the soft buzz of chatter.A warm red light gave the evening an even more glamorous tone. Looking natural as can be, people talked, laughed and hummed to the music.
“We’re not trying to make a statement,” Patrick said frankly.“This is just what we like.”
