It’s refreshing when friends of yours play in a band that doesn’t suck, especially since that’s not always the case. I’ve known hundreds of bands who had fine, good people in them, but when they hit the stage, had a collective output as appealing as sex with your parents [EDITOR’S NOTE: I’m sensing a trend with these columns...]. Sometimes I think these so-called friends with musical aspirations befriend you just so you have to sit through their shitty bands. I’ll take a band of dicks that play good music over friends that play music that sucks every single time.
Amazing Ghost is that rare exception. Not only are they (relatively) hospitable human beings, they play music that is immediately identifiable. Overflowing with hooks, charm and charisma, Amazing Ghost’s gift for writing and performing memorable tunes is, well, nothing short of amazing. Even if you don’t have a proclivity for their seamless assimilation of Gary Numan/Ultravox/Flying Lizards swirling keyboard embellishments, “nothing but a party y’all” late70’s/early 80’s hip hop sensibilities, and 21st century lido shuffling, they are downright impossible to resist--as evidenced by their catchy-as-fuck debut 45-RPM single on Electric Cowbell Records. On the A-side, “I Gettupa”, vocalist/bassist/bandleader Eddie Prendergast employs the everyman spoken/sung dynamics of punk poet John Cooper Clarke, channeling “Million Dollar Legs” by the Outlaw Four as keyboardists Bob Miller and Toby Whitaker prolong the unbridled party anthem with looping, non-linear sonic support. “Tiny Raindroz” ventures into the usually insipid realm of 1980’s balladry and ever-so-subtly turns John Hughes’s cinematic heartstring pulling into a slightly funky, tongue-firmly-planted-in-cheek homage to tender moments. As with virtually everything they do, these tunes haunt you long after the record has ended. To me, that is a telling sign of greatness from those who strive for verse/chorus based perfection. And these aren’t even what I consider to be their best songs (I can’t seem to get their defining tune “Somsomina” out of my head), so I hope a full-length release is in the works after this irresistible little vinyl teaser. Until then, I’ll be playing the fuck out of these two little nuggets of captivating pop.
On the gleefully hateful tip, Meat Cleaver’s sonic brutality draws immediate (and accurate) comparisons to Jesus Lizard and 90’s aggro-rock. However, the twin guitar assaults levied by Richmond’s best-kept secret are more a jovial descent into barely contained musical and lyrical profanity than a tired, paint-by-numbers amalgamation of past victories. They remind me of loveable former Richmond fuck-ups PCP Roadblock, but with better tunes and a keener, more focused desire to be the audio equivalent of Hustler Magazine. Rude, crude and hateful, Meat Cleaver’s all-encompassing desire to offend is given disturbing credence by the band’s impressive technical abilities. When screamer David Washburn is ranting uncontrollably about fecal disturbances, contemptuous assholes and other unsavory topics unsuitable for family listening, the band provides the melodic muscle to make even the most unpleasant of lyrical scenarios enticing. You’d never know it from listening to their music, but these guys are some of the nicest, hard-working people you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting. And boy, are they fun to watch.
In my heavy rotation as of late is Alliance of Concerned Men by Suppression. By far the standout group to perform at the recent Gwar-B-Que, this two-man band’s latest release has been living in my CD player ever since. It’s not every day you come across a band that can pull off Chrome/Ruins frantic dissonance and make it sound not only appealing, but fresh as well. Love these guys.
Here’s one band I want to get to know better: Black Girls. On their MySpace page, they describe themselves as playing “Glam / Hip Hop / Surf,” and that they do. They have a lo-fi quality, sorta Beach Boys jamming with Beach House, Ween and Cody Chesnutt. Their lilting, economic compositions are somewhat funky without being repulsive, meditative without being morose, and captivating without begging for attention. I’ll have to see them live sometime.
Lastly, the sound of the bolero, the great Latin American song form, is presented with aplomb by Miramar. The dual vocals of Rei Alvarez and Laura Ann Singh are simply stunning together, and when placed over the piano/organ playing of Marlysse Simmons Argandoña, their sound is a thing of truest beauty. Not many Richmond bands are known for their romantic splendor, grace, or restrained titillations, so Miramar stands out in the crowd. They might signify a low ebb for raucous desires, but for beguiling evenings of quixotic reflection, they are in a class of their own. Don’t miss them.
Chris Bopst has been a fixture on the Richmond music scene for over two decades, playing in GWAR, the Alter Natives, and The Holy Rollers, among other bands. His free-form radio show, The Bopst Show, has existed for over a decade, appearing on multiple Richmond AM radio stations before becoming an internet podcast in 2008. Weekly episodes of the podcast can be found at rvanews.com.