Music: Hidden No More

Jared M. Holder The Hiders began as informal jam sessions, but the band's debut release, Valentine, has brought them national attention via NPR's World Cafe.

Come into the Batcave. When the door cracks open, momentarily, visitors go blind. Squint, then widen the eyes, nocturnally adjusting. Colored lights web-cover the ceiling and walls. Stimulation is everywhere: a Patsy Cline poster, a sleepy sun, a winged, guitar-playing skeleton, superheroes and equipment — amps, cased guitars, mic stands, all the gear. Notice the close silence. Left alone, studio air grows stale, needing a sound refill.

The Batcave is singer, guitarist and multifaceted songwriter Bill Alletzhauser's practice/recording space. A hypnotizing den, the atmosphere is similar to The Hiders' sound, which breathes an equally curious subtlety that festers, explodes and then circles back as soothing as a Band-Aid. A cry out, a cry answered.

Two wolves that can't stop.

Alletzhauser turns on some Blues, handing me a Steely Dan album for a writing pad. He wears a camouflaged hat over scraggly hair. He sips red wine, announcing: "I like to dress like a homeless vet." When told that'll be printed, he shrugs, grinning.

A full-time musician, he says, "I'm just obsessed with music. I like recording other people. The shared experience is unique. As a musician, on one hand, you have to have a ridiculous notion of things, and on the other, you have to be grounded."

Soft-eyed, introspective, he thinks things over, looking down or around. But when talk turns to music, he engages eye-level, though slightly shy with a lurking sadness. Alletzhauser once recorded on a major label (A&M) with The Ass Ponys, has had Rolling Stone and Spin reviews and won a Cincinnati Entertainment Award for work with Ruby Vileos. But instead of reminiscing, he focuses more time on drawing me a map, suggesting a place to score cheap records.

As a kid, his parents split. He traveled from Cincinnati to Nashville frequently. Early on, he responded to Kris Kristofferson, KISS, Elvis and "the whole art package with songwriting."

Captivated by bands, he says, "I was in made-up bands for a long time before I played in one. I even drew pictures of them."

Mom had a passion for Country. Dad bought his sister a guitar when he was 10. "She quit, and I started screwing around with it," he says. Drawn to electronics, he became intrigued with the world of noise. At 14, he was in Rover, a Punk band that came alive when skateboarding boomed (later, he was singer/guitarist for the Dinosaur Jr.-esque Grinch). But Alletzhauser preferred the emotional content, the "high and lonesome feel," of more diverse music.

He never took voice lessons. Sometimes compared to Neil Young's unapologetic, nasal tone, Alletzhauser's voice strikes out with less abrasiveness and more naivety, both hopeful and wounded.

"It is what it is," he says.

On his role as The Ass Pony's guitarist from 1995 through 2003, he admits, "You can hide out there. There's more pressure as a frontperson." Holding an arm up, he compares the lead singer position to the last scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Harrison Ford, holding a staff, must "stand and deliver."

In 2002, Alletzhauser met his harmonizing match, Beth Harris, at The Ensemble Theater. Both performed in the musical, Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

"I like singing with people," he says. "Gillian Welch, The Band, The Beatles ... they all have a lot of harmony."

The band began as informal Bluegrass jam sessions at Alletzhauser's house. Soon, a core group developed, including Harris (vocals, percussion), Todd Drake (drums), Toby Ellis (pedal steel, guitars), Victor Strunk (bass) and Dave Gilligan (harmonica), among others.

Tyler Ramsey (keys, guitars, vocals) and album producer Brad Jones (guitar, vocals) also contribute to Valentine, The Hiders' 2006 debut release. Their band moniker, named for a 1975 Gunsmoke episode, holds a double meaning — some songs, hidden for years, predate The Ass Ponys. The Hiders booked gigs when they tired of buying their own beer.

Coincidentally, Valentine was recorded over Valentine's Day at Nashville's Alex the Great Studio. Mostly recorded live, Alletzhauser describes the sound as, "Organic ... something like Gillian Welch meets Black Sabbath. I also had Zeppelin II and Willie Nelson's Stardust in mind." He believes in the "old Blues" simplicity of well-crafted writing and raw, straightforward lyrics.

Valentine begins playfully, transforming into slow, leaking Rock that smolders, dissecting breakups and unions. Alletzhauser describes the first song, "Everything I Wanted," as a "secret crush-type song." But following songs dig painfully deep. "You Can't Hurt Me Anymore" uses the analogy of needles and razor blades, wrestling with neuroses and cavernous loneliness. The final track, "Into the Sun," works as a mirror, reflecting on the desire to recreate "something that was once decent," he says.

Valentine has already received national airplay. When Bruce Warren, production director of famed Pennsylvanian public radio outlet, WXPN, heard the album, word spread until The Hiders were an NPR World Café feature and "WXPN Artist to Watch" for June.

"I'm fucking thrilled with the record," Alletzhauser says. "Usually, people on record labels have to harass World Café to play their stuff. It's all sort of gelling the way it's supposed to. I don't feel like there's anything lacking."

Soaring beyond porches and Batcaves, The Hiders reveal shadowy faces and a sometimes acute, sometimes childlike sound. Complete with musings, secrets, magic, razors and the echo of hindsight, just like its moth and wolf cover, Valentine flies, then howls.

Jared M. Holder The Hiders began as informal jam sessions, but the band's debut release, Valentine, has brought them national attention via NPR's World Cafe.

Come into the Batcave. When the door cracks open, momentarily, visitors go blind. Squint, then widen the eyes, nocturnally adjusting. Colored lights web-cover the ceiling and walls. Stimulation is everywhere: a Patsy Cline poster, a sleepy sun, a winged, guitar-playing skeleton, superheroes and equipment — amps, cased guitars, mic stands, all the gear. Notice the close silence. Left alone, studio air grows stale, needing a sound refill.

The Batcave is singer, guitarist and multifaceted songwriter Bill Alletzhauser's practice/recording space. A hypnotizing den, the atmosphere is similar to The Hiders' sound, which breathes an equally curious subtlety that festers, explodes and then circles back as soothing as a Band-Aid. A cry out, a cry answered.

Two wolves that can't stop.

Alletzhauser turns on some Blues, handing me a Steely Dan album for a writing pad. He wears a camouflaged hat over scraggly hair. He sips red wine, announcing: "I like to dress like a homeless vet." When told that'll be printed, he shrugs, grinning.

A full-time musician, he says, "I'm just obsessed with music. I like recording other people. The shared experience is unique. As a musician, on one hand, you have to have a ridiculous notion of things, and on the other, you have to be grounded."

Soft-eyed, introspective, he thinks things over, looking down or around. But when talk turns to music, he engages eye-level, though slightly shy with a lurking sadness. Alletzhauser once recorded on a major label (A&M) with The Ass Ponys, has had Rolling Stone and Spin reviews and won a Cincinnati Entertainment Award for work with Ruby Vileos. But instead of reminiscing, he focuses more time on drawing me a map, suggesting a place to score cheap records.

As a kid, his parents split. He traveled from Cincinnati to Nashville frequently. Early on, he responded to Kris Kristofferson, KISS, Elvis and "the whole art package with songwriting."

Captivated by bands, he says, "I was in made-up bands for a long time before I played in one. I even drew pictures of them."

Mom had a passion for Country. Dad bought his sister a guitar when he was 10. "She quit, and I started screwing around with it," he says. Drawn to electronics, he became intrigued with the world of noise. At 14, he was in Rover, a Punk band that came alive when skateboarding boomed (later, he was singer/guitarist for the Dinosaur Jr.-esque Grinch). But Alletzhauser preferred the emotional content, the "high and lonesome feel," of more diverse music.

He never took voice lessons. Sometimes compared to Neil Young's unapologetic, nasal tone, Alletzhauser's voice strikes out with less abrasiveness and more naivety, both hopeful and wounded.

"It is what it is," he says.

On his role as The Ass Pony's guitarist from 1995 through 2003, he admits, "You can hide out there. There's more pressure as a frontperson." Holding an arm up, he compares the lead singer position to the last scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Harrison Ford, holding a staff, must "stand and deliver."

In 2002, Alletzhauser met his harmonizing match, Beth Harris, at The Ensemble Theater. Both performed in the musical, Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

"I like singing with people," he says. "Gillian Welch, The Band, The Beatles ... they all have a lot of harmony."

The band began as informal Bluegrass jam sessions at Alletzhauser's house. Soon, a core group developed, including Harris (vocals, percussion), Todd Drake (drums), Toby Ellis (pedal steel, guitars), Victor Strunk (bass) and Dave Gilligan (harmonica), among others.

Tyler Ramsey (keys, guitars, vocals) and album producer Brad Jones (guitar, vocals) also contribute to Valentine, The Hiders' 2006 debut release. Their band moniker, named for a 1975 Gunsmoke episode, holds a double meaning — some songs, hidden for years, predate The Ass Ponys. The Hiders booked gigs when they tired of buying their own beer.

Coincidentally, Valentine was recorded over Valentine's Day at Nashville's Alex the Great Studio. Mostly recorded live, Alletzhauser describes the sound as, "Organic ... something like Gillian Welch meets Black Sabbath. I also had Zeppelin II and Willie Nelson's Stardust in mind." He believes in the "old Blues" simplicity of well-crafted writing and raw, straightforward lyrics.

Valentine begins playfully, transforming into slow, leaking Rock that smolders, dissecting breakups and unions. Alletzhauser describes the first song, "Everything I Wanted," as a "secret crush-type song." But following songs dig painfully deep. "You Can't Hurt Me Anymore" uses the analogy of needles and razor blades, wrestling with neuroses and cavernous loneliness. The final track, "Into the Sun," works as a mirror, reflecting on the desire to recreate "something that was once decent," he says.

Valentine has already received national airplay. When Bruce Warren, production director of famed Pennsylvanian public radio outlet, WXPN, heard the album, word spread until The Hiders were an NPR World Café feature and "WXPN Artist to Watch" for June.

"I'm fucking thrilled with the record," Alletzhauser says. "Usually, people on record labels have to harass World Café to play their stuff. It's all sort of gelling the way it's supposed to. I don't feel like there's anything lacking."

Soaring beyond porches and Batcaves, The Hiders reveal shadowy faces and a sometimes acute, sometimes childlike sound. Complete with musings, secrets, magic, razors and the echo of hindsight, just like its moth and wolf cover, Valentine flies, then howls.