Wayward Weekender: Stay Tuned at Davey's, Fiesta Kansas City, Antennas Up and Ha Ha Tonka
With Spring has come renewal on the Kansas City music scene. I started out this past Friday with a hearty, bolstering meal at Stroud's, followed by a quick drink at Jazz on 39th (where the full moon had its best company of the evening, I swear), and then on to Davey's Uptown Ramblers Club for the first installment of the Midwest Music Foundation's Stay Tuned series.
I missed the earlier acts, Mr. Marco's V7 and the Afterparty, arriving as new-band-of-old-scenesters Hipshot Killer was bashing out no-bullshit American rock in the spirit of the early Replacements and Bad Religion. The band is fronted by ex-Architects guitarist Mike Alexander, who stands feet spread wide and uses just about every nerve in his body when he plays and sings. He's backed up by Chris Wagner on bass and Brad Wicklander on drums. My camera was freaking out, so I only got pictures of American Catastrophe (below), but guess what? I took pictures of Hipshot the first time I saw 'em, which just happened to be at Davey's a couple weeks ago, so here's pretty much exactly what they looked like last Friday.
Hipshot Killah
Lots of people enjoyed the band's sound, which is especially tasty to ears, like mine, that have recently been tuned to the Gaslight Anthem.
Up next: Thee Water Moccasins. I don't have a picture of them, either, but guess what? I took a picture of them playing last Friday at Midwestern Musical Co. and never posted it. So, while this isn't exactly what they looked like playing last Friday, it's as close as we're gonna get.
Like Hipshot, Thee Mocs are a new band of old farts: members-wise, a mashup of Olympic Size (Wade Williamson on keys and guitar, John Bersuch on drums, Billy Smith on vocals and guitar) and Roman Numerals (Smith and singer and bassist Steve Tulipana). Did you get all that? Darn these local supergroups.
I understand that the band was born one night at the Record Bar a few months ago when no one showed up to play. The four guys got up and began jamming to a groove, melodies emerged, an extra "e" was picked up, and Thee Water Moccasins slithered onto the scene. Riffing on repetitive, new wave-y beats, simple chord progressions and improvisatory vocals, the group goes from sounding like the Chemical Brothers to Can to the Sea and Cake. They also make use of iPhone apps in the mix. At both gigs I've been to, I've seen people -- actual, white midtowners -- dancing. Imagine that!
Quote of the night (paraphrase): "We're playing this show because someday we'll need the Midwest MusicFoundation's help." -- Billy Smith.
The evening's final act was American Catastrophe. I hadn't seen this band in quite some time and was looking forward to hearing some new material. No such luck. The group started off with a new song that shook, moaned and howled, but the rest of the night (unless I'm mistaken) was same ol' set. There's just too much talent in this band for them not to have some more new shit by now. During the minute or two when my camera decided to work, I grabbed a pic of the band's guitarist and secret weapon, Terrence Moore.
American Catastrophist Terrence Moore
For all my complaining about the lack of new songs, I did enjoy a moment of sonic nirvana during AmCat's set. MMFer and Davey's bartender (and soundman and Gaslights guitarist) Chris Meck was recording the entire show for posterity. He let me try out the headphones plugged into his mixer for a song, and the sound quality I was hearing went from Davey's Uptown to Austin City Limits. Magic.
Saturday, clubs editor Berry and I hit Fiesta KC, the free, three-day extravaganza that the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce of GKC puts on every year. In short, it's huge. Check out Berry's more detailed discussion of some of the bands, plus this slide show I made of various sights.
The best part, for me, was finding out that Making Movies really rocks.
Making Movies: Enrique Chi
When Enrique Chi first formed his band a year or so ago, their sound was over-the-top emo powerpunk, and, to be honest, it wasn't my thing. But now, the group has added percussionists and evolved into an exciting, musically adventurous bilingual (but mostly Spanish) Latin rock band. If you ever wanted the Mars Volta to be less proggy (more like At the Drive-In, in fact) and exhibit even more Latin influences -- and maybe even throw in a slow song or two -- then your wish is granted in Making Movies.
The night before this show at Fiesta KC, Movies played in Chicago at a show sponsored by the Spanish-speaking version of MySpace (which you don't want to point your browser to because it'll automatically set to it). Chi told me the site had featured his band all week.
I rolled out of la fiesta around 11, just in time to catch all but about the first four songs from Antennas Up. It was my first time seeing them live, even though I've been enjoying the hell out of the group's debut album for at least two months. And I came in somewhat leery, too, because the singer on the album, a balls-out howler named Lonnie Coleman, quit the band right after the record came out. Luckily, bassist Kyle Akers was up to the task of replacing him. If I hadn't known the original vocalist had quit (see our feature from April), I wouldn't have even noticed a difference.
Antennaaaaas... HUP!
Looking like a law-student happy hour party band, the three men of Antennas Up tore through and sweat all over a set of beat-heavy robot-funk. Akers switched between playing bass live and triggering various loops on his pedalboard in a well-rehearsed flurry of multitasking. For the Kraftwerk-meets-Jamiroquai synth jam "5p4c35h1p," all three members of the group drummed while the song's robot vocals and keys played on a backing track. It was righteous. The only thing missing from the show was girls dancing, and when headliners Ha Ha Tonka got up, I understood why that was.
Ha Ha Tonka
It was because most of the crowd was there expressly for Ha Ha Tonka -- and Ha Ha Tonka was there for the crowd.
The quartet of rangy, Springfield boys-in-boots brought loud, rascally Southern rock with four-part country gospel harmonies welded onto the side like an extra gas tank on an old Dodge pickup. They got lots of mileage out of it, too, especially from the ladies in the crowd, whose numbers were many, looks were above average and whose ages ranged from 21 to 25. Kings of Leon, beware: your midwestern pootie's getting shoplifted.
As for the music, it's backyard-party music, far away enough from the middle of the road to still be considered "indie" but with enough sexy swagger and mass appeal that I could see Ha Ha opening for some big Nashville country act on a summer tour, or at the very least Shooter Jennings.
Kyle from Antennas Up is Tonka's on-road lights operator (which is ironic, considering Antennas' set had no special lighting and would have benefited from it). I got to talking to him at the light board and after the show cajoled him into a spontaneous interview. I actually did some editing this time, so ... enjoy.
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