Most Music Is So Contrived-Feeling

This morning, I realized that while listening to some Boston. Maybe it's time for a fast, as far as music goes (easier said than done when I'm doing two busy bands). Maybe I should, just quit listening to so much of that damn jazz. I've been watching that Ken Burns documentary (I'm like 12 hours into it), and listening to a lot of KUVO (again) and I think it has gotten under my skin.

This one came on right after Boston, and really made me feel a little better, even if it's as contrived as the Boston song. The bass tone is great, and classic, and the second half has some cool layers:

The Official Version

Tom Murphy was right there on Saturday when the dude was coming unglued. Tom's excellent write up (excerpt below) comes from here (I'm an admitted plagiarist). I had no knowledge of the so-called "fire alarms."

Seriously, how was I supposed to hear/see 'em when I was fully engulfed in sound/fog?:

Overcasters setting the mood.

Overcasters really know how to set the mood for a show with their custom projections, stage lighting and fog machines set up to act in accord with the music being performed. And yet none of it seemed contrived, because all of it served to enhance the experience of the show and not cover up for shortcomings in the music. They performed five or six songs each with an elemental beauty and expansive voicings. It’s unlikely that Bar Standard typically plays host to music possessed of such dreamlike magnificence, live or otherwise.

Overcasters' set was comprised of great, controlled torrents of sound pouring from the stage like Echo & The Bunnymen bolstered by a cloned Will Sergeant, along with great lyrical one-liners from Kurt Ottaway, especially toward the end with lines like, “There is no time like the present, so better get moving” -- a reminder that life doesn’t wait for you to get yourself together before it passes you by. At some point during their set some guy came to the stage all hot and bothered and asked bassist Jeremy Ziehe about who was using “the fog pedal.” Apparently the fog machine had set off a fire alarm elsewhere in the building. But with their set almost over, it came to nothing.

After All Three....

Perhaps the greatest rock moment of my life was when that funny-talker (this isn't a politically-correct blog) asked me to cease using my "Fog Pedal." This was VERY confusing to me, since I don't have such a thing (I will re-paint and re-label the LBP-1 now, though--I require pedal-painting tips ASAP, friends). Apparently, Osama took it upon himself to call the fire department in order to shut down our fog machine. They brought a real fire truck to do this, but gave up.

The set was nearly flawless, even if Osama's antics overshadowed it. Overcasters made an impression, either way.

The Bad Luck City's set was flawed from the get-go. Kelly's bow got beer-infested at a prior gig, and now it requires a re-hair. She requires a medal for five shows in a weekend. Kelly O'Dea is amazing. Perry had some amp issues, but, eventually, we worked, 'em out. That set wasn't horrible, but was rather pale compared to the night before. I fucked up for a two or three count which is completely unacceptable. I am the worst player ever. I had fun, though.

After a sweaty sweaty day, LRC and I played naked foosball, took showers, drank screwdrivers, ate cold pizza, and watched Pee Wee's Playhouse on DVD. It was the perfect end to a (nearly) perfect Saturday.

One Down...

I'm one-third of my way through the weekend of rock, and so far it's totally fun. The Gothic crew did a good job on the sound (and actually ran a DI as well as a microphone on the mighty Horizon 4x10"). Devil masks, ICP makeup, and grinding dancers, oh my!

It was fun.

For Linda Ruth...

or others that aren't so into the Poison video-o-rama....

My Brother, Dr. E-dogg, was totally into the Poison. Our father trasheed all of those records because of the 'sex on the beach' from the 'open up and say ahh' record. Anyhow....here's the shit from él señor de amor a la roca:

Actually...it's all about 'talk nerdy to me,' LINDA. Think that I require a lime-green B.C. Warlock, really:




Indeed, I require a Warlock (and lots of cocaine);...is that the RATT or Randall sound?!? Priceless '80s video (love the Newman-lookin' father):



Overcasters require more choreography; certainly for the videos. 'F'J.N. certainly has enough banjos to pull off nonsense such as this:



Classic...I require some crazy brunette groupie (I love 12-string anything):

Unbeknownst To Me, I Was In This Acid Rock Band Once.

I hope that y'all are snowboarding on reality.

I have to copy and paste these (emphasis removed) reviews so that I have a record of the buzz from the first show to read years from now. They're mostly complimentary, I would say. It's quite amusing to me that the perception is that we're so psychedelic (that's the name of the record).

Linda Ruth Carter:

countdown over

expectations uncountable. zero disappointments. I wrote that on the Overcasters Myspace page early this morning within hours after their first public show.

The September 1 show at the Tarshack promised to be a memorable event. There was: artwork (equal parts beautiful and eerie layered glass paintings by Monofog's Doug Spencer); the world famous DJ, Tyler Jacobson (who didn't like my musical requests but played them anyway); knife throwing demonstrations (yes, really, knife throwing, and no, no injuries); the always interesting and and ever eclectic sounds of Pee Pee; and the formidable and impressive sounds of the hard working Mothership. All this would make for one good night if it ended right there, but at the top of the night was what I was most anxious to witness: the debut of the Overcasters.

I've been waiting patiently for a good many months to hear this band. Well, actually I've not been entirely so patient. Hearing about these songs for weeks (and weeks) but never having the opportunity to hear an actual note of any one of them...I began to get a little tetchy. I teasingly dubbed them "the Overpracticers."

But it was worth the wait. Over-rehearsed they are not. Talented and together is what they are...the result of time and effort well spent. Erin and Jeremy construct a rhythm section so tight you couldn't slide a piece of onionskin paper between the sounds then John and Kurt's guitars make a palpably dynamic layer floating just above that. You find yourself moving without thinking about it. And the vocals--lemme just say to those who've only heard Kurt sing a Tarmints song, you might be astounded at the downright pretty treatment he can give a song.

As happy as I was to finally hear them for the first time, it feels like I'll find more to love with multiple listens. And I hope that number will be beyond count.

Tom Murphy:

Overcasters (1): It might be a bit premature and biased for me to write about this band since they really have only played one show. But it's kind of a cool supergroup instead of the usual lame kind. In their line up are: Kurt Ottaway (Tarmints, Twice Wilted), Jeremy Ziehe (Bad Luck City, Red Cloud, Mr. Madonna, See Cities From Space), Erin Tidwell (Cowboy Curse, The Hot House and Tobias Jupiter/The Flashbangs) and John Nichols (Shrill, Munly, Tiny Television and The Birthday Girl). What kind of music? Like Echo & The Bunnymen with more rock and roll mixed in. More psychedelic and of course there's Kurt's signature sometimes quavering but always assured vocals. Great band in the making. But Kurt doesn't tend to fuck around with his projects. He may be my roommate but long before that I knew he was one of those people who if he's going to do something like a band he's going to do it really well or not bother.

Angora Holly Polo:

The Overcasters

Despite the knife-throwing in the front yard, the vibe at one of Denver’s most infamous artist living areas was comfortable the night of September 1st. Families talked, people ate cookies. It was a typical day at the Tarshack, though it had changed in the past year.

The Tarshack is a stark warehouse that several musicians call home. With the convenience of living without neighbors in an industrial area, the Tarshack sometimes opens its doors to a live music experience that’s unique and intimate; each local show is capped off with the Tarmints, a band that plays dirty, black-stained rock kicked around by the tortured growl of Kurt Ottaway. They only ask a suggested donation, bring your own booze, be polite, and leave the bulldozer out front alone.



Just over a year ago, moments before running through the crowd like a banshee and scream-growling from atop the donations table in the back, Ottaway introduced a song with a ranting speech: it was about making music because he doesn't have a wife, and he doesn't have a TV, and he doesn't drink, and he doesn't have a designer jeep to drive over to his girlfriend's house that he doesn't have. Not much of that has changed since then, but for one thing:

In a series of moments clearly designed by the rock gods, Ottaway found his soul mate in one who could be considered his only equal in rock-your-face-off energy (locally, at least): Erin Tidwell, the fire-haired drummer behind political Indie poppers Cowboy Curse, and a slew of other projects.

They secretly formed their relationship behind closed doors, and then formed a local supergroup in a similar fashion: behind the tightly-closed doors of the Tarshack, they created the Overcasters with Jeremy Ziehe from Bad Luck City (formerly in Red Cloud West) and John Nichols, who played with Munly. It was rumored that Ottaway wouldn’t reveal their new band until everything was absolutely perfect. All the while speculation churned outside their walls so that it was almost tangible: would the Overcasters sound like the Tarmints? It was assumed that the combination of such musical talents would combine into some great otherworldly musical combustion.

Then Ottaway suffered debilitating injuries from a motorcycle injury. His recovery dictated they push the unveiling off further. Even days before the first Overcasters show, Ottaway almost chopped off his fingertip in a motorcycle sprocket. After such a wait, presumably, nothing could stop him from playing.

The public return to the Tarshack September 1st was shocking in its familial comfort: the once-barren warehouse was now warm with paper lanterns, lit-up stars, painted red by Tidwell. It felt like a home, with Ottaway and Tidwell’s families hanging out. Monofog’s Doug Spencer exhibited art work – there was even a gallery room set aside – and Tyler Jacobson from Lipgloss DJed. People lined up to try out Spencer’s knife-throwing interactive art project (this still is the Tar-shack). People sat on the floor to watch Pee Pee’s slap-dash, whimsical porch jams. Then Mothership sent vibrations and chills through the entire warehouse with their vibrant, guitar-driven space rock.

And then friends, family, and fellow musicians gathered inside for the Overcasters to begin. Erin Tidwell’s father glanced at the door anxiously, watching the room fill up.

The first song churned along without vocals, a cool melodic body of water that would put out the fire behind Tarmints’ fury. The visual spectacle was equally calming: projected bubbles of light languidly floated over the red-headed Tidwell, adorned in a black and white ‘60s top. Ottaway’s biker growl smoothed out into a haunting, Win Butler-esque yell, a more accessible version of that vocal summoning of inner demons. They fell into characteristic Tarmints fits, black blues, grinding rock; but always settled back into cool, calm waters, calling more from the psychedelia of the ‘60s, and the echoing guitar sounds of post punk. The crowd was mostly silent throughout the show, either calmed or awed. Ottaway sarcastically thanked the crowd for being so polite. When the show was almost over, Ottaway went around and introduced the band. He introduced Ziehe and Nichols. When he got to Tidwell, there was no need for lengthy introduction; he simply instructed the crowd to listen to the next love song.

Locked and Loaded

On the eve of our debutante ball, things are going quite well. It appears that at least some people are as excited as we are to do this thing:

1401 Zuni, denber, 9-1-07, 21:00 sharp

I found a nice little write-up for the show over here (worth clicking). I know fucking nothing of the alleged myspace nonsense:

Father Guido suggests you go to the Tar-shack Saturday night for Overcasters, Mothership, and Pee Pee. This super group has been practicing and rehearsing and probably learning karate and making evil robots and unlocking the key to enlightenment, I don't fucking know, but they've been behind closed doors for what feels like forever.

They've been making hilarious claims on myspace, posting bulletins that say "Knife-throwing exhibition" and "THE CALL OF CTHULHU." Good God! It sounds exciting.

Tyler Jacobson is DJing! Artwork by Monofog's Doug Spencer! Gah!

The tension is killing me! What will you sound like, Overcasters?!

Another one:

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1: TYLER JACOBSON DJs THE OVERCASTERS, MOTHERSHIP & PEE PEE SHOW

Tyler DJs Overcasters, Mothership & Pee Pee show

The night that the Overcasters are unleashed on the world, Tyler will be providing the soundtrack to the in between times. 3 bands, 1 DJ and 1 art show. Be there to say you were there.

The build-up is getting to me a bit.
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