Upcoming Concert Reviews of The Appleseed Cast, Pit Er Pat and More

More Concerts of Note

Mar 30, 2005 at 2:06 pm
Pit Er Pat



The Appleseed Cast with Chin Up Chin Up and Ampline

Thursday · Southgate House

For reasons that have been obscured by the current context of the term, Fugazi is frequently name-checked as an ancestor of Emo. If this is true, then The Appleseed Cast is taking the genre back to its roots. After cracking into the public consciousness with The End of the Ring Wars, a textbook Emo work that caught the style at its crest, they followed with Mare Vitalis, a work that explored their strengths, namely, the dynamic and atmospheric dual-guitar work of Christopher Crisci and Adam Pillar and the quirky, insistent drumming of new member Josh Baruth. Then the quartet from Lawrence, Kan., did something daring (or derivative, depending on who you ask). They made a sprawling, experimental double album, Low Level Owl Volumes I & II. Although sometimes dismissed as a bad case of the Kid As, the piece is a remarkably inviting listen, never resorting to grating noise or arty pretentiousness to push boundaries. Instead, they take Prog-inspired melodic journeys, with each song sounding like a well-crafted medley. Baruth seems to have been a catalyst for this transformation, bringing complex rhythms reminiscent of Brendan Canty to bear on the already thick sound the band had established. His arrival was like a Post-Punk grenade thrown into a cartoonish world of chunky glasses and mournful lyrics. The remaining fragments of AC's Emo existence (primarily Crisci's pained crooning) now adorn a tattered landscape of a voluble Post-Hardcore science project gone right.

Through extensive touring, they are slowly building back to the popularity level of their 1999 heyday, only this time probably developing a less fair-weather following. If nothing else, AC is a gateway that you hope will make fans of The Get Up Kids put down the Kleenex and start ordering albums from Dischord. (Ezra Waller)

Pit er Pat with Meadoe and Toy Band

Saturday · The Comet

Though I've yet to meet anyone who admits to liking them, new Brit sensations Keane have made a huge splash by utilizing the "sparse" trio format, driven by keyboards, devoid of guitars and loaded with schmaltzy melodies for a Coldplay-meets-Air Supply sound. I guess it makes the ladies swoon, but I'll take Chicago's Pit er Pat's over that drivel any day. While also using the keys-out-front/no guitars motif, this trio achieves heights greater than any straight Chris Martin rip-off project could ever dream. The band began in the Winded City as backing for a singer/guitarist, who left for New York City not long after they started playing together. The three remaining members — bassist Rob Doran, keyboardist Fay Davis-Jeffers and drummer Butchy Fuego — decided to soldier on and discovered their unique format served them well, writing songs built around rhythms that roll like the hills with piano lines to match. Audiences responded and the EP, Emergency, was released in 2004, introducing vocals into their sound for the first time (all three sing, though Davis-Jeffers takes the lead more often than not). The rhythmic cadence of their sound is the first thing you notice when you listen to the group's evocative debut album, Shakey, their first full-length, recently released by the venerated Thrill Jockey label. Fuego's expressive, Jazz-like drumming is mesmerizing, making their name seem all too fitting (even if it was cribbed from a painting by artist Jim Nutt and not used as an onomatopoeic allusion). With Doran's nimble, versatile bass lines locked in to secure the core, Davis-Jeffers connects the dots with her undulating organ/piano splendor and fluttering, hypnotic vocal haze. The sound is as if the hotel lounge band full of accomplished musicians got wasted, threw out the sheet music to "Feelings" and started playing Prog, Free Jazz and Stereolab all at the same time. But it's more controlled and elegant than that; the band members each boast visual art backgrounds, and that's reflected in the scope and grandeur of their vivid, sensual songwriting and methodology. Pit er Pat haven't made it outside of Chicago much (excluding a Midwest tour with pals Tortoise last year), so this will be the first look for many in the area of this stirring new threesome. (Mike Breen)

The Kills with Scout Niblett and Staggering Statistics

Sunday · Southgate House

London and Florida never had anything in common until Jamie Hince and Alison Mosshart bridged the gap by joining forces in their twisted Blues duo, The Kills. The pair (she was formerly with Discount, he with Scarfo) met in London five years ago where a visiting Mosshart (nicknamed VV) heard Hince (dubbed Hotel) experimenting on his guitar in the apartment above. After introducing herself, they talked music and wrote songs together before Mosshart returned to Florida to finish art school. In the subsequent months, Mosshart and Hince corresponded by mail, trading tapes, artwork and ideas until Mosshart decided to return to London and the pair officially formed The Kills. With some thrift store guitars and a cut-rate recording rig, The Kills started creating and circulating crudely effective demos around London, which led first to the Black Rooster EP on Dim Mak in 2001 and then the startlingly dense full-length Keep On Your Mean Side on Domino the following year. The stellar reviews and intense media attention generated by The Kills' first two releases resulted in a contract with Rough Trade and the duo's stunning sophomore album, No Wow. Hince's guitar howl combines the sonic claustrophobia of Jesus and Mary Chain with the minimalist tendencies of the Velvet Underground and the arty squall of Royal Trux. Mosshart draws her darkly dramatic vocals from a similar well of despair and passion as P.J. Harvey and Patti Smith, while the twosome's duet vocals bring to mind the emotional interplay between John Doe and Exene Cervenka. Although it would be easy to draw a superficial Blues line between The Kills and The White Stripes, Mosshart and Hince clearly embrace a wider variety of musical genres while plumbing the dankest depths of their Blues obsessions with songs of betrayal and emotional anguish like the thrilling "I Hate the Way You Love" and the Stooges-like "Love is a Deserter." Even immersing yourself in the albums might not prepare you for The Kills' visceral and shatteringly intense stage presentation. The Kills are raw and real. This show also serves as a sixth anniversary party for Northside's beloved independent record seller, Shake It Records; advance tickets are available at the store for just $5. (Brian Baker)