Page 38 - the NOISE September 2013

b Ugh
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Letters
>> Continued from 37 >>
Dear The Noise,
I can appreciate how things can some- times get twisted while doing business. But after 20 years’ [1993-2013: Prescott
Jazz Society Celebrating Twenty Year An- niversary] worth of contacts I am serious- ly diminished by the fact that we could be misidentified by your publication. (How- ever, I really think that this might prob- ably have been the intent of the ‘Prescott
Jazz Summit’ when they conceived their name tag/title.)
However, the Prescott Jazz Society was founded in 1993 and incorporated in 1994 as the only charitable nonprofit membership organization in Northern AZ promoting and preserving live-jazz music. We actually established the first year-round jazz program in Northern AZ in1993 with the Cannon Academy of Per- forming Art which was merged into the Prescott Jazz Society, Inc.
Our Annual programs are: APRIL JAZZ APPRECIATION MONTH (JAM Festival); JUNETEENTH Jazz Splash FESTIVAL (each Father’s Day Weekend @ Arcosanti); An- nual WOMEN of NOTE CONCERT; Annual CHRISTMAS-BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION (GALA ANNIVERSARY EVENT December 15, 2013)
The Prescott-Cannon Organization started in 1994 and 1995 producing ‘JAZZ SPLASH’ Festivals in downtown Prescott (5 days & nights). In 1998-9 our festival be- came the annual Arcosanti JUNETEENTH Jazz Splash FESTIVAL which is 15 years old and on-going.
Milton DeLove Cannon, Jr.
PJAZZ Founder/Director, Volunteer P.O.B. 26096
Prescott Valley, AZ 86312
Muscle Beech
Self Titled EP
Self Released
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A light Southern California breeze carried the harmonic waves of a new, idiosyncratic sound through the dimly lit catacombs of San Diego’s Soda Bar. It was Muscle Beech’s self-ti- tled inaugural EP release show; the kind of gig that almost always evokes a more rowdy and populated attendance. Muscle Beech, with their draw of friends and fans from their local Escondido and Valley Center, met expecta- tions with a brilliant display of what can debat- ably be described as surf-punk-rock.
Muscle Beech formed during the summer of 2012 by Escondido locals Ian Douglas (vocals/ guitar), Justin O’Brien (bass) and Drew Satter- lee (drums). Unfortunately for the dwindling few with a taste in good music, the band didn’t start playing live shows until spring of 2013. But once they did, it didn’t take long before they began to make a name for themselves at local San Diego joints like The Void, Tin Can Alehouse, and Soda Bar. Once summer hit, the group, which by now had become regulars around town, welcomed Jordan Chini as a sec- ond guitarist. With a diverse collection of origi- nal material, getting into a studio was the ob- vious next step. Chini took up his new band’s endeavor at his home studio in Valley Center.
Though the Muscle Beech EP boasts only 4 tracks, totaling a little less than 13 minutes of jam time, the diverse mixes adhere to the uncategorized niche the band seems to have formulated. Their EP stands out from overdone and easily forgotten music for a multitude of contributions from each of the four members. Douglas’s rhythmic progressions and adjoin- ing melodies have a catchiness that can pen- etrate the eardrum and plant in that sweet spot just inside the cochlear nerve. Satterlee’s unique skin-pounding abilities drive as inte- grally a part of the writing process as chord progressions. O’Brien’s crunchy bass lines leave one wondering whether he has experi- ence as a part time dog caretaker, since he clearly knows how to take his axe for a walk. Chini’s guitar riffs fluidly mold each track to- gether, creating the last bit of vertical finesse that might otherwise be lacking.
The EP’s first track, “Substitute” is solid. Be-
ginning with the crash of a symbol and com- plex system from Satterlee, accompanied by O’Brien’s 4-string, the rhythm and lead guitars soon jump in with no fuss. When Douglas’s vocals are thrown into the mix, it becomes apparent through the speaker-box effects that the Muscle boys aren’t just trying to play patty-cake with the rampant invasion of indie- rock drones. “Substitute” is the right opener because it is complex without arrogance and stylistically loyal in setting expectations for the rest of the EP.
“Short Breaths” is the second track, and also the mellowest of the four. Like “Substitute,” it is perfectly placed in the EP. If the first track weren’t enough to establish the band’s dis- tance from unoriginality, “Short Breaths” fur- thers the notion. Douglas has an imaginative knack for fabricating melodies over progres- sions that other musicians might find difficult to sing to, which is apparent in his soft vocals that play off the rhythm guitar as neatly as Howard Hughes’ bedroom was kept. Likewise, the other three bandmates share Douglas’s understanding of what should be incorporat- ed into the song. Satterlee’s drumming is less complex than in the opener, and Chini’s role isn’t as much at the forefront, leaving the track as sort of breathing room before the second half of the EP kicks into full gear.
The third number, “Hands,” is indisputably a crowd favorite. It elevates itself above the oth- er three tracks for reasons that hit home with this self-proclaimed music aficionado. Unlike the first two songs, “Hands” starts right in the belly of the beast and works from there, rather than chopping its way to the heart. The track begins blaring full speed into an ear-pleasing synchronization that leaves no doubt this isn’t their first rodeo. The overall grunge, blended with the salty guitar licks and echo of back- ground chanting, stands reminiscent of both the Southern California punk scene and Or- ange County’s propensity for surf-rock. Ergo, surf-punk-rock.
The final track involves a melody from Douglas unlike those from the first three. It has a more ominous tone. “Quitter” is the ideal closer. It opens with the soft plucking of strings held in tempo by a simple beat from Satterlee. If it’s a boulder rolling once the rest of the band jumps in, they almost certainly have In- diana Jones sprinting down their torch lit cor-
muscle Beach; running
ridor by the track’s final all-out rock-out. As the drums, bass, guitar, and background echoes finally cease, it’s clear the band has proven what I personally like to believe they set out to: that the rawness of rock and roll isn’t dead. Hopefully the title is some sort of indication that the band, itself, isn’t comprised of quitters, and that we should expect more of them soon.
Despite the uniquely awesome ditties in- cluded, it’d be almost foolish to call yourself a Muscle Beech fan before seeing them per- form live. This is how you know you’ve found a band worth listening to: when their well re- corded endeavors still don’t live up to their live shows. Not that this EP isn’t worth listening to, because it most certainly is, but their music has so much raw rock n’ roll energy, it seems almost impossible to capture it on tape.
— Tom Blanton
Running
Vaguely Ethnic
Castle Face
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Dumb as hell reverb and slapback heavy sturm and drang rawk. (I hate the band name! No offence, Flagstaff photographers) I can’t hear what the guy is singing, and I just don’t care. This is good lowbrow dance music. If Bauhaus was fun? Yeah, that’s it. Vampires are boring. Unless they’re like the scary monster ones, like Salem’s Lot. These guys are hopefully not vampires. They do sound drunk. There was once a band called the VSS and Running is like their snotty asshole brother. The Fall is defi- nitely another reference I need to throw out there before someone fires me for not bringing that up. Particularly, “oOooOoo OooOOooO OOooO,” (did I get that exactly right? No? Okay) and it’s two chord epic shred stomp. If you enjoy FIDLAR, The Shindaggers, and the Cramps, well, seek this out. Or don’t. This isn’t a commercial, I don’t think. Actually, I think this might just be one really loud obnoxious guitar and drums. And those insane vocals.
Longest track: under 3:30. Beautiful.
— Bobby Carlson | music@thenoise.us
38 • september 2013 • the NOISE arts & news • thenoise.us