|
Eat Sugar plays above the good stuff. Their wrought iron shambles and blood-red carpet sanctify the sounds: upbeat and dancey, no real method abounds.
Bassist Jim Reynolds can't really explain it, so he just smiles and shoves his hands into the pockets of his beaten leather jacket. "We're great," he says.
Synth player Doctor Proctor tries to explain. "There's nothing around that sounds like us," she says as she pops her collar and huddles closer to the space heater.
From the look of their setup, one has to agree. Two synthesizers, a bass and drum kit crowd their tiny studio — no guitar in sight. Yet Eat Sugar claims a slice of the four-piece pie.
"It's fully formed and self-contained," singer Aidan Bogosian croons with his argyle-clad back against the wall.
Of course they can't forget the importance of the electric handclap: it makes an appearance in nearly every song.
"That's the other member of our band," Proctor admits, flashing her sun-kissed smile. She's recently returned from a self-described two-year vacation in San Francisco.
But the Golden State eventually lost its luster. Aside from a lively DJ circuit, Proctor says the Frisco music scene is dead. Long gone are the days of free-wheelin' Haight-Ashbury, populated by people with big ideas and meager means. Musicians today can barely afford to live there, much less scrape together rent for two places, an apartment and a studio. Proctor played in a few bands but nothing stuck. She wanted something edgier, something miles away from her comfort zone.
"I wanted something I could dance to — go crazy onstage," she says. Proctor also played bass with the Fairmount Girls before she moved away.
"I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone, too — that's why we have the tambourine," Reynolds finishes while pushing salt-and-pepper hair out of his eyes.
He and drummer Greg Poneris formed Chalk, a group known for its high hair and sidewalk rhythms, back in 1996. They brought class and wisdom to the musical table, but eventually that table morphed into a sugar jar. They still provide the score for kids throwing rocks through windows — syncopated beats best heard in abandoned ice cream factories. But they also yearned to make people shake it.
"Being a drummer, of course I wanted things to be more rhythmic," Poneris admits.
They wanted to get the crowd involved, help the audience forget their troubles and leave the baggage at home.
"We just want to make people dance and maybe get a shot of Jameson," Reynolds says.
To help them achieve this feat, the pair scouted Aidan's swagger one night when he graced the stage during a performance by local Pop/Rock vets The Tigerlilies. Reynolds already knew Proctor from previous encounters — watching her strum bass with the Fairmount Girls and collaborating on a few noise experiments they performed at the fabled Sunflower coffeehouse/venue.
"I played upright bass and he did ... things," Proctor recalls.
Jim's plethora of instruments includes pots, knobs and other household items hooked up to effects processors streamed through contact mics. After trying to describe it he simply pulls out what looks like an army green heat lamp with no bulb. A bit of duct tape holds a small microphone to its side.
Another element in their candy bag is the decided plan to play only one local gig a month. So far they've played only one gig total, but the buzz is already on high.
EAT SUGAR (
 Eat Sugar
Eat Sugar
|
Eat Sugar plays above the good stuff. Their wrought iron shambles and blood-red carpet sanctify the sounds: upbeat and dancey, no real method abounds.
Bassist Jim Reynolds can't really explain it, so he just smiles and shoves his hands into the pockets of his beaten leather jacket. "We're great," he says.
Synth player Doctor Proctor tries to explain. "There's nothing around that sounds like us," she says as she pops her collar and huddles closer to the space heater.
From the look of their setup, one has to agree. Two synthesizers, a bass and drum kit crowd their tiny studio — no guitar in sight. Yet Eat Sugar claims a slice of the four-piece pie.
"It's fully formed and self-contained," singer Aidan Bogosian croons with his argyle-clad back against the wall.
Of course they can't forget the importance of the electric handclap: it makes an appearance in nearly every song.
"That's the other member of our band," Proctor admits, flashing her sun-kissed smile. She's recently returned from a self-described two-year vacation in San Francisco.
But the Golden State eventually lost its luster. Aside from a lively DJ circuit, Proctor says the Frisco music scene is dead. Long gone are the days of free-wheelin' Haight-Ashbury, populated by people with big ideas and meager means. Musicians today can barely afford to live there, much less scrape together rent for two places, an apartment and a studio. Proctor played in a few bands but nothing stuck. She wanted something edgier, something miles away from her comfort zone.
"I wanted something I could dance to — go crazy onstage," she says. Proctor also played bass with the Fairmount Girls before she moved away.
"I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone, too — that's why we have the tambourine," Reynolds finishes while pushing salt-and-pepper hair out of his eyes.
He and drummer Greg Poneris formed Chalk, a group known for its high hair and sidewalk rhythms, back in 1996. They brought class and wisdom to the musical table, but eventually that table morphed into a sugar jar. They still provide the score for kids throwing rocks through windows — syncopated beats best heard in abandoned ice cream factories. But they also yearned to make people shake it.
"Being a drummer, of course I wanted things to be more rhythmic," Poneris admits.
They wanted to get the crowd involved, help the audience forget their troubles and leave the baggage at home.
"We just want to make people dance and maybe get a shot of Jameson," Reynolds says.
To help them achieve this feat, the pair scouted Aidan's swagger one night when he graced the stage during a performance by local Pop/Rock vets The Tigerlilies. Reynolds already knew Proctor from previous encounters — watching her strum bass with the Fairmount Girls and collaborating on a few noise experiments they performed at the fabled Sunflower coffeehouse/venue.
"I played upright bass and he did ... things," Proctor recalls.
Jim's plethora of instruments includes pots, knobs and other household items hooked up to effects processors streamed through contact mics. After trying to describe it he simply pulls out what looks like an army green heat lamp with no bulb. A bit of duct tape holds a small microphone to its side.
Another element in their candy bag is the decided plan to play only one local gig a month. So far they've played only one gig total, but the buzz is already on high.
EAT SUGAR (eatsugarmusic.com) plays The Comet on Friday.
