Author Archives: Leah Henry

Sadly, I’d never been to Zoo Bar before, but, last month my neighbor exclaimed, “it’s one of those places: relaxed, fun, and this band can sort of play, and the woman plays slide.” I’m easily convinced, and couldn’t wait to try a DC institution that I’d overlooked.

Within the first five minutes, a woman dancing with the wall asked me if I wanted to dance – it’s that kind of bar. “I am not quite ready to dance, would you like a spin?” I asked. She said in a very disgruntled tone, “Honey, I don’t need to be spun,” and went right back to her steady partner, the wall. Zoo Bar has Guinness and Bass on draft – not bad; a pitcher serves five pints, and I take the deal. The waitress, erroneously called “Sweet Pea” by a drunken patron (her response: ”I’ve been called worse”) lied when she said you can only pull three. The hoary bartender smiled and poured the beer wearing a shirt with “Lucky Whisky” emblazoned on the back. He spun around to pass the pints, cracking jokes with some eagerly perched beverage enthusiasts. I would recommend the bar area, as the rear loses the sound.

The music was mostly covers (okay all covers), but the atmosphere was warm and fun. Hot Rods and Old Gas played Alan Jackson’s “Crazy ‘Bout a Mercury,” some Johnny Cash standards, Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B Goode.” You know… the stuff dad turns up in the car on road trips after The Eagles and CCR trail off…

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As I entered during the first song of Pillars and Tongues’ set, I hit an unsettling wall of off-centered pitch, as Mark Trecka (vocals/percussion/objectophiliac) thrusted his pelvis into an accordion. This Chicago tribal, tonal, soul-folk trio was unfettered by conventional rules that govern music. Evan Hydzik (bass), Elizabeth Remis (violin), and Mark Trecka explore, play, and have a conversation. Whether or not it is a place I want to travel, something I would watch again, or a conversation I would pay a dollar to overhear… Well, the jury is taking its time.

Their excessively long tracks and desire to build songs without “meat” confused me. Trecka has an absolutely lovely voice, and Remis’ is not far behind, but their drawn out, organic, abstract style is not working. They would be wise to step away from the primal and head back down the road to traditional. Helpful advice given to me that I will impart to you: When seeing a Pillars and Tongues’ show, close your eyes or look away (as Trecka’s gyrations are distracting).

Sixteen year-old (minus breakups/hiatus) indie-rock band Joan of Arc also possessed a non-traditional slant, but their math rock leaned toward an under-confident “TOE with an emo singer,” Tim Kinsella. The first – more than twelve-minute – song stopped and started, built and paused, but, aside from the lack of smooth musical segue, entertained anyway.

A creative quartet with contagious energy, Theo Katsaounis (drums) brought the audience to him with lengthy build-up and pace, and Bobby Burg (bass) kept us entertained, jumping around the proper amount, while Victor Villareal (guitar) played focused-driven riffs. Unfortunately, Tim Kinsella (vocals/guitar) interrupted. After his long, chatty introduction, I should have assumed that his vocals would be an auditory sticking point for me. I would suggest that they move to 100% instrumental; they have fun, they change things, and they manipulate the listener, but the vocals get in the way. I’d like a do-over of JOA, with Kinsella on guitar, sans mic.

After being deafened by their pure raw energy at Galaxy Hut Sunday night, I had the pleasure of sitting down with Ian Thompson (Drummer and Vocalist) to discuss the future plans for hardcore band Lions & Tigers & Whales (L&T&W).

What do you think of last night’s performance?

I’m still not sure. I have a hard time looking up when I play. I’m kinda shy. I think people enjoyed it, though. I can’t hear this morning, that’s for sure.

Some comparisons have been made… How do you feel about the analogy “a heart is to a pump as L&T&W is to a jet engine?”

That’s not too far off, I guess. We are loud as fuck. Read More »

While slightly too loud for the set up, an uninhibited Stout Cortez held the mic, squinted and squatted to see the lyrics, and let his computer (with additional effects) go while he sang his heart out. Although not always in tune, you had to admire his conviction; he felt every single beat, only pausing to giggle during sound dysfunctions caused by his inability to stay behind his computer screen. He amused himself, and me, with repetitive and seemingly socially-conscience-heavy lyrics. I thoroughly enjoyed his energy, powerful vocals, and flirtatious attitude. It was a 100% appropriate performance to warm up the crowd, even if that isn’t your real name, Stout.

Although it remains unclear to me if their parents dropped them off or if they stole a van, Raindeer hopped to it with admirably quick transition. A few quick keyboard and mic checks, and they were delivering Baltimore experimental pop to a relatively large crowd for Velvet Lounge. They had an impressive Baltimore following who arrived to the upstairs of Velvet ready to dance.

During “Social Networking,” Raindeer commanded the audience to, “Dance! I don’t dance, dance! I don’t dance, dance!” Their traveling local crowd knew the words and supported the young trio by working their way to the front and “getting down.” As the show continued, I grew to like the adorable Raindeer but felt that other than the theme of dancing, darkness pervaded their lyrics. In the aptly named “Dark Place,” they promise that “Someday I’ll take you to my dark place when it’s time / Someday I’ll take you to my dark place deep inside,” in “Social Networking” they mention Halloween, and in “Juanita,” they predict that “Will we die / In the fall / Will we die / Diiiieeee.” Another song whose title eludes me mentions a monster. That all said, no matter my mood, I would smile and shake my shoulders to any song that these three chose to play, preferably in the month of October.

After a much longer transition (let’s call it Intermission), on came Painted Face, three women dedicated to electro-pop. After all of the build up, I was looking forward to picking up where Raindeer left off, but with a harder hit. (For example, “undreamt,” a track with genuine promise). The beats were decent, but when DC-based lead singer Allie Alvarado opened her mouth, it was cold. Hoping it was nerves or just tight vocals, I stuck around to no avail. She pressed on, forcing her voice through the small space and never truly warming up. Was I surprised… A little. Was I disappointed… Well, it was $8. The headliner should bring the house down, but the first two were so energized and excited to be performing that it was contagious, and this carried me through the evening. Thanks Newdust, for bringing that line-up to Velvet Lounge.

Painted Face – undreamt

A few things have changed since I last attended IOTA. The most important change is seating, the lack of which was always a gripe I held with this venue. Additionally, there are cafe tables and chairs in the main room, and the bar has been realigned with the rear wall. Old wooden pews have been tucked where dead space once was, and the entrance has been adjusted to minimize interruption. Standing and drinking remain the standard operation here, but now the chatter so present in all IOTA shows is quarantined to the back corners and doesn’t threaten to drown out the music. I like this new IOTA.

Pleased to see they’ve remedied these annoyances once and for all, I took a seat a little early waiting for Charles Walston (Bourbon Dynasty, The Vidalias) to start. Charles played rhythm guitar and harmonica, his neighbor Chris played lead guitar, and as it turns out, this was the first “proper” gig they’ve played, apart from farmers markets. They played eight songs, silly country songs like “Low Tolerance for High Maintenance,” and a song written solely to mock Twitter, “If hobos were on Twitter what would they say?” being one of the more ridiculous lines.

They continued their performance with more than enough songs regarding the death of a friend taking his own life, “Counting out sleeping pills / One by one / ‘Lot easier than a rope / Guess it was cleaner than a gun.” Another song was about a dog named Ginger that Charles will never forget. (“She was a Labrador-Coonhound mix, great dog.”) They rounded it out with a few surprising gems, including “The Best I Can Do,” which had a Johnny Cash feel: “I can’t give you fancy things like diamonds and gold / But I’ll give you all the love your heart can hold / I’ll be there for whatever life throws at you / It’s not a lot, but it’s the best I can do.” Charles Walston was no-frills, not a single one. His plain country folk, with a few sweet blues riffs thrown in by his neighbor, was straightforward and likable.

After Walston took his leave, a small woman with a large guitar took the stage. Surrounding her were three men: one on drums, one upright bass, and the final with a saxophone in hand and an accordion at his feet; they were ready. Mary Battiata checked her tuning, whispered with the sound guy, and waited for the room of maybe twenty people to grow completely silent.

Then Mary, an Arlington local, thanked us all for coming with a whisper, and announced that this first tune would be a new one. Her voice, a little weak and shaky, benefitted the first song by making the lyrics sound frustrated and strained à la Emmylou. She then announced to the crowd, “My New Year’s resolution was to write songs with fewer words. These two aren’t it.” The crowd laughed, and she burst into her next song with zeal, ready to make up for what she’d lost. “You can’t shame me / I did the best I could,” she belted, and her defiance was inspiring. It reminded me of Kathleen Edwards singing “The Cheapest Key.” (Album: Asking for Flowers, buy it.)

Mary sang a few “high-brow” pieces about politics, chemical weaponry, and current events, which is typical of her folk roots, along with the overly-educated banter between songs. The sharp and thoughtful lyrics and folk-psychedelic accordion arrangement were not the classic country to which I’ve grown accustomed. Often shaking her head and stepping far back from the mic as if attempting to release the final note she’d been missing, Mary sang each breath until her lungs gave way. The highlights were definitely the covers (my apologies), “Sharp Cutting Wings“ by Lucinda Williams, “The Stars Burned Out” by Nick Solomon (whom she contacted to pay a whopping $60 in royalties but who won’t return her calls ), and the finale, “Flashes and Cables,” written by a young songwriter from Denton, TX, Will Johnson (Centro-Matic). This last one was fresh and exciting, with its tempo changes and anthem-like chorus. I hope Mary is right when she says that “Will Johnson, he’s going to be a big star.” Maybe Mary Battiata can snag Will on his way up; she most certainly has the right voice to do his poetry justice.

Now the leader of the Alt Country band Little Pink, Mary Battiata was formerly a Washington Post reporter and foreign correspondent.