That damn genre term (you know the one) where no tangible explanation is muttered beyond, “They’ve got a 90s sound.” Sure it’s a connotation for bands that will sport four-day foul working clothes on stage, forego thoughts on commerce for art and never write the same song twice (even though “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Rape Me” are twins), but when you scrape it all down to the core, a 90s sound is about being loud and just embracing the noise that can be made with these expensive machines. This spot of grandiose feedback and bent notes is where you find Mice in Cars and also why my ears were ringing for three days after leaving the trio’s Thunderbox rehearsal space.
“Being in high school in the mid 90s, Nirvana was your life,” Mice in Cars frontman/guitarist Myke Johns pondered on where his preference for the blustering sounds came from. “It was all I wanted to do that moment.”
“I discovered very early on when playing guitar, when I was thirteen, that I have this inability to stand still when I play. It’s just not gonna happen,” he continued, pointing out the stand still and stare approach that came about sometime after the 90s hay day – bands slouching through their sets as if each song created a hangover – that still continues today is something that he just can’t connect with. “If you’re gonna play a show, play a show. Nobody goes to a show to say they went to listen to a band. They’re going to see a band. Plus I want it to be worth it for me. If we play a show and I’m not bleeding at the end of it, I feel like I didn’t do well enough.”
Mice in Cars newest offering is a two song digital EP titled Good Men Are Monsters. The opening riff to “Exit Interview” – an innocuously brooding bass line – comes by way of bassist Mark Parker. As the song groans to a state of cracking distortion, it’s clear they have taken the path treaded by Bitch Magnet and Rodan: the curdling feeling that is more like a slow decent than an uprising. John’s guitar welds the melody while the man behind the drum kit and surrounded by used electronics and keys, Nick Johns, pins it all down with a controlled yet hyper-active beat.
This image of the band isn’t the same as it was in their beginning. When they formed in 2006, Mice in Cars were a foursome; one that fumbled in a Dinosaur Jr. like fuzz, which you can clearly hear in the band’s self-described “shit EP” – 53 Bicycles and a Dead Man. Once they were down a guitar, the aggression became a head figure in the songs.
The sprawl of the musical landscape of Atlanta has always allowed for many musical avenues to present themselves as bands are able to meander through experimentation in a competition for mind-fuckery, but all this breeds the possibility for cliques. Often misplaced as a post-rock band, Mice in Cars have resided in that gray area in between the varied crowds that will attend one show but not the other. Not to mention that the misnomer post-rock has and always will sound unequivocally boring enough not to care.
“Every band you talk to is going to say ‘We’re the outcast,’” Johns goes on to explain. “I guess it’s the hip thing to do but also because we’re working together in rooms like this.” He points to amps and poster filled walls, a very claustrophobic space when under the right influences. “Basically it’s like being a writer. You work in isolation, and then you go out into the world and apply your wares. Atlanta is a city where it’s really easy to feel isolated.”
But, John contends, if you really want that feeling of comfort and belonging, you have to reach out to people. If you end up watching the three at Nophest, which the band will be playing at The Earl for the festival’s sixth year, and are in front, be aware that you might be a part of the decimation of notes in the finale of their set as John happily hands off his guitar. “It’s funny to see the look on people’s faces,” Parker laughs. “People just don’t expect that anymore because people come to rock shows and just stand there and drink beers,” Johns adds.
Before the words ended and the band began to propel their joints back into movement, John began to slowly circle his riff on “Exit Interview”. The resonance of Nirvana’s “Something in the Way” is undeniable. Try as we might to mask our influences with volume and new compositions, we just can’t escape the fact that our loves always bleed through.
Mice in Cars will be playing Nophest Friday, August 24th at The Earl.
http://www.facebook.com/MiceinCars
http://miceincars.bandcamp.com/
Photo Credit: Zach Beiser
“Just let loose,” the head pastor (him) said to the assistant pastor (me). The words fell down much like a decree from a sovereign lawmaker; a pastor’s words thrust themselves onto their staff with an oracle of power. They are to be followed to the letter and with little question – well, questions can be encouraged as they lead to discussions, and those lengthy devices lead to good sermons.
Pastors need people for this very reason. Without people they are merely presenting book pitches to an audience every week. Over a year into building a church that worked locally and could be admired nationally, my fatigue had become fully visible and undeniable. I was the party girl left curbside at 3am, skin stained with mascara. There was no denying my decaying state. It was time to laugh or just enjoy the inevitable crash.
In the middle of a staff retreat, within a corner of the rusty Christian flag admiring Midwest, my only to-do list was to relax, have some fun, and just let the stress melt away. I chose to let it drip out my pours through liquor sweats.
The night began with a full staff dinner: the pastors, the paid, the volunteers – all the people that make a church a real breathing device. I had a rhythmic method to my drinking, much like the rhythm method used to avoid getting pregnant and, much like it, the end result was guaranteed unpredictability. Green domestic bottles were chased by redheaded sluts – the cheap then the sweetness. I lost count of my rounds somewhere after the third. By this time the fun was being moved back to the hotel, but not before a stop to get snacks and more aged Holy Spirit in a bottle.
I put my drink-consuming method to bed as I buddied up with my own oversized bottle of whiskey. I resided in a chair watching everyone smile, laugh, and joke in our half-priced, half off the highway hotel. I sized everyone up as if a massive fight in the park was about to happen, and I would need to know who would have my back and who’s back I would need to stab. These were the type of fevered thoughts that careen through a mind when liquor, anger, and a need to sleep have settled in for the long haul. I conjoined with my chair to create a slumping machine. Cartoon drunk had settled in for most of the staff, causing an eruption into a game of “I Never”.
Secrets were revealed as everyone (aside from the senior pastor) drank and raised their hands exposing both the ridiculous and the dark that nestled within their lives. One couple discovered an STD might be in play, others found out friends would sell their shame for the laugh of the guilty raised hand and quick shot that follows. I made all my questions sultry, or at least the drunk me believed he did, out of a hope that one of the blushing, tipsy interns would let me slide in for a sinless fuck.
I slept alone that night, in an incubated curl around the toilet. I counted out my vomits laughing with each one like I had won an award and was waiting for someone to ask me if I was going to go to Disneyland. I was told I yelled out “23″ at the tile and the cancer-colored wallpaper. An imaginary cheer applauded me as my face slid off the bowl into the vomit that never quite made it to its intended destination. I was the Michael Jordan of godly puking, a five-day hangover as my medal.
On the retreat I met one of the most revered and talked-about ministers that has ever lived. We shook hands and my brain couldn’t find the switch to the end the roller coaster. When can I relax again, I thought. Everything was turning serious, and who wants serious when you just saw everyone be themselves for the first time in a year.
“A pastor is a leader by bringing God’s voice to his people,” someone said.
“You’ll know God’s voice when you hear it.”
“In God’s voice is our comfort.”
“Stop asking questions, and you’ll hear Him.” Every pastor I ever met told me that.
Each time someone one else uttered about the whispers of the mighty above, I could only cringe, wondering if there was an escape hatch waiting for me before we came back south to Atlanta. The only voice I ever heard was in my own inflection, somehow always backing the emotions of the moment. The same voice that told me God was real and to devote my life before a driver’s license to pastoral service was the same that crept in quietly one day, whispering, “You’re a bastard and its time to say goodbye.”
I’ve toured the country speaking on more pulpits than I can every truly understand but when I stare into the eyes of hindsight, and though I’ve lost memory of every Bible verse I every preached on, there’s one thing I can say: There’s a saint that stares back at the bottom of every bottle, not ordained and holy only in the attempts to improve. This voice knows you best and it’s best not to ignore it.
Weed makes music better, even the shittiest, vomit-inducing minutia that employs guitars will seem interesting and timeless (i.e. 311). But if a band is already top notch, big hits of THC will take the sound to a new level. In the case of Wizard Smoke, the riffs gain girth, and images of the band kicking Jesus in the tender bag while high-fiving the devil should be expected to careen into one’s consciousness. “To my ears, when you’re high [music] is something huge and crushing,” says guitarist Dan Nadolny. “I don’t know if our stuff is repetitive, but you’re not going to hear a bridge or chorus for a minute and half. If you happen to be in the state of mind that is a little more open to letting the clock tick, then Wizard Smoke will work for you.”
But though weed truly plays its role in the slow gloom of the metal outfit — the band’s moniker itself is named after the legal bud that gets smoked up in films — the quintet’s ethos is more about having a good time than focusing on drugs. “It’s not like we are massive potheads inspired by weed,” screamer James Halcrow laughs, pointing out that the majority of the band are merely casual smokers. “It’s a tongue and cheek sort of thing; not really a joke, but we don’t take it too seriously.”
It’s this lax attitude that separates Wizard Smoke from their peers and is one of the reasons that the band plays more shows with rock bands than with fellow brothers of the down tune and somber. The constant smiles marking each member’s face when they play defiantly goes against the snarling look most come to expect from a band of such maniacal sounds.
“It’s fun for us, that goes with out saying,” Nadolny explains of their on-stage joy. “At practice we come up with something, and we are just pumping our fists about it. It feels good, but we’re not tough guys. We’re not trying to look the part. It’s easy to get caught up in the imagery of the genre, but we’re not interested.”
“There’s a lot of metal bands around town I enjoy playing with,” Says Halcrow, “but I prefer to book a show with a non-metal band I like. It seems more special when we do it that way because it gives people a chance to hear something they normally might not hear.” He admits his favorite show was playing with the garage rock band Obits.
One thing that has helped push Wizard Smoke onto non-metal crowds has been the sheer fact that this is most of the guy’s first foray into metal. Nadolny details the band’s early roots that took shape when he was in the Cassavetes. He says that during one practice the amps got turned up, bailing on the Springsteen style rock to play with some noise, or as he put it, “write some riff shit”. But the old elements still surface in some of Wizard Smoke’s newer tracks. Listen to the full rock jam near the end of “Witches Brew” for proof.
Now with the band’s second album Speed of Smoke readied for your hard drive for free (Yes, they love you that much) and your analog player for a small cost (If you can touch it, it needs money), many will find the band has not only tightened up and matured since their first release Live Rock In Hell, but also that synths have crept their way into the music. “It seems like we were just getting the base of our sound down before, but now we’re more comfortable with it and more comfortable experimenting,” says Halcrow. Bassist Matt Cherry (also of Maserati) was able work his synthesizers and electronic magic into the ominous textures that surround Speed of Smoke.
One track (“Weakling”) has Halcrow’s scream sounding like a demon that was lost from Pink Floyd’s The Wall. During our long interview he admitted his sole intention on using a Vocoder was to nab from Thrones, a one-man band designed by former Melvins bassist Joe Preston.
“We played that song once or twice at shows before we went into the studio, and I had been doing it with straight vocals. The night before we went into the studio I was listening to Thrones, and I was like, ‘I’m stealing that and puttin’ it on that.’ I don’t care. I’m being shameless. I was actually pissed off it didn’t sound exactly like [Thrones].”
Right now, Wizard Smoke has a slew of shows coming up (including their album release show at the Drunken Unicorn on April 30th), which is a very different state from the one the band was in a year ago. The previous rule was only play every so often and make it memorable each time — a damned event for people to brag about. “It was easier to say that back then,” Halcrow says. “Matt was adamant that we were gonna be a seasonal band and only play four shows a year. Fuck that. I don’t want to do that.”
“That was the plan,” Nadolny reasoned, “but we had to find a medium. We can play a little bit more often than that and people will still show up. We inexplicably get show offers to open for great bands — even though we only played four or five shows. We fucking had Torche and other bands wanting us to play. There’s a general rule: if you’re good and you limit the appearances you make, it’s better for you, but you don’t want to fucking cut your nuts off.”
All of this bears a big question, as there is now quite the national hype staring down at the band. Does the band plan to hit the road, leaving our city behind for a bit? No, even though they’ve had offers. The chance to open for the legendary, hook-drunk band Floor is the latest trek to be turned down. “I’d personally love to tour for a short couple of weeks,” says Nadolny.
Halcrow quickly adds, “I don’t feel the need for it. Where we are it is totally fine.”
“If we can just continue making great records and playing as often as we do, that’s cool with me for now. I’d love to play in front of ten people in Iowa someday,” Nadolny laughs, embracing the truthful sarcasm of tour life. “It doesn’t look like it’s in the forecast for now.”
Speed of Smoke came out digitally for free today and pre-orders for the luscious vinyl version are now being taken.
Photo Credit: Tim Song
“I’ve been on the road for years listening to sad emo bullshit,” Jeremiah Edmond laughed. “A lot of that music I love and think is brilliant but I just wanted music that would get me driving. I can only listen to Saves the Day‘s Through Being Cool or Rancid albums so many times.”
Edmond, who runs Favorite Gentlemen Records, spent five years as the drummer for Manchester Orchestra before stepping down earlier this year as the supporting tours for the fuzz induced Mean Everything to Nothing ended. Tired of the road and the complications it brings to a marriage Edmond decided to pursue a more stable life and cultivate the label frontman Andy Hull and him started.
Those keeping tabs on Edmond have witnessed an addition to his online updates through Twitter and Facebook since staying local; on top of promoting the movement of the label’s artist he takes an excited tone to talk about his love of hip-hop.
“Hip-Hop has been this in and out thing for me,” Edmond explains, as it once existed as a phase, not unlike being really into metal or hardcore for a month. But he’s catapulted way past that into not only a passion but also something to study for the sake of business. His first real interest came when hearing the collaborations of late singer Aaliyah and her producer Timbaland. “I remember hearing those songs on the radio and being completely drawn in, shocked and inspired.” He recalled with a smile.
As an engineer he was not only in awe of the production side of the songs but fascinated trying to figure out how tracks were constructed. Thanks to his then girlfriend — now wife — he was pointed in the way of artist that inspired him to step beyond the methods of indie-rock. Though a mix CD he discovered Common, Blackalicious, deep Outkast tracks, and Cannibal Ox.
While in the van going from show to show Edmond began delving deeper and deeper into hip hop, escaping from what he calls the “downer” of sad-bastard music — or least that’s how it felt hearing the same music in the venue and on the way to the next one. He gave Lil Wayne a second chance, already having written him off. He listened to the infectious Tha Carter III in the little time he had before heading to Europe. “It was not what I expected at all. It’s different. His flow is different. Whatever arguments you want to make against it… it struck a chord with me.”
From there it was a few web searches and the drummer had discovered the world of mix tapes, in the case of Wayne a fuck-tall mountain worth of experimental releases in between the official major-label backed albums. He spent the week before tour downloading all of Wayne’s music he could find, for free. “I don’t have money I’m a touring musician,” he smiled defending the internet actions reserved for those who don’t run labels. “Wayne’s got money so I don’t feel bad about it.”
Now Favorite Gentlemen has jumped into new territory adding rap outfit Vonnegutt to the family, sharing them with Big Boi‘s Purple Ribbon Records. You know that crushing chorus to Big Boi’s ‘’Follow Me”? That’s Kyle Lucas and Neil Garrard of Vonnegutt. Being involved with this up and coming act has given Edmond his first honest glimpses into the business of hip-hop and the varying differences it has with selling indie-rock.
“In general the hip-hop scene seems to have more entrepreneurs. Like hip-hop artist aren’t real artist, they’re entrepreneurs. They’re hustling. They’re trying to be an artist and trying to build a business, or maybe they’re just an artist who are like, ‘Shit. If I’m going to do this I’m going to make money off of it. This is my business and I’m going to treat it as such.’”
On the other end of the genre spectrum he sees that same devotion and long-term thinking lacking. “Bands they don’t get it,” he explains. “No matter how many times I tell a band ‘You’re not going to make any money until you get your merch shit together and treat that as a separate business.’
‘Oh,’ his voice drops lazily for the impression; ‘ We had some drinks at the bar and then sat by the merch table and sold two CDs and a shirt.’ You’re not going to make any money other than that. There’s ten people at your show and you’re not going to make any money at the door.”
He continues pointing out the empty venue/empty cash box problems that plague bands who get an album on iTunes and immediately see an opposite coast tour as their manifest destiny to never work a day job again.
It’s not all praises for the hip-hop community. There’s been some misguided hustling as far as Edmond is concerned. “There’s things to me that don’t make sense at all, especially on the media and online side. They could be doing things that could be so much more beneficial to them but they seem to be six-months to a year behind technology wise.”
In the end though being current on the web and keeping a band’s business in line doesn’t secure anything without a solid plan. “People always ask me ‘What did you guys do with Manchester to make it work in the beginning?’
“We we’re strategic. Everything we did had a very specific purpose. You got to start out small markets and build from there.”
Favorite Gentlemen will be hosting The Stuffing on Wednesday the 24th throughout the CW Midtown Complex (The Loft, Center Stage, Vinyl). Close to every band in the FG family will be taking the stage, including Manchester Orchestra, Bad Books, Dead Confederate and All Get Out.
Photo Credit: Christy Parry