decaf. - We’re The Opening Band (Pt.3): Live at Dalloways - 2/24/1995

This is the 3rd and final installment of the decaf. live EP series, "We're The Opening Band." This one takes us to Dalloway's Coffee House at St. Mary's and was recorded on 02.24.95. That night we played with an out of town band, Tiny. Playing at Dalloway's never reached the energy level of house parties or bar shows, but they were fun nonetheless. Here it is - the last in the series and the last recording you will ever receive from decaf. because we have officially exhausted all material.

--Brian

listen/download:


see also:
decaf. on MySpace

decaf. - We’re The Opening Band (Pt.2): Live at The Box - 2/04/1995

OK so here is the 2nd installment of the decaf. live EP series, "We're The Opening Band." This 3-song EP was recorded live at The Box on 02.04.95. It starts out with our friend and housemate, Kevin, trying to get a roudy house to "shut up" and listen to his public service announcement. That house brought out a great energy from any band that played there, and I remember us going downstairs to check the floor joists as we were afraid the floor would collapse during Sweep's set - ahhhh The Box.

That night we played with Sweep The Leg Johnny, Spoonfed, and a South Bend bend named Used that was supposed to have a questionable film showing behind them while they played - thank god their projector broke. Anyway, here it is - 2 down, 1 to go.

--Brian

listen/download:

see also:
decaf. on MySpace

Transmontane - Live at SXSW 2011

SXSW 2011 ended just over a week ago, and all reports indicate that it was notably chaotic and overblown this year... a gatecrashing near-riot at The Strokes, even more so at Death From Above 1979, the total mess that was Kanye West's show, Ben Weasel's belligerence and punching of two women, hipsters wearing capes (why?), general excessive drunkenness and stupidity... it's understandable why so many of us Austin residents breath a sigh of relief when the whole circus leaves town.

Fortunately, though, there was one show that was worth the trip out for us, being decidedly more relaxed and trouble-free. Former WVFI DJ and enthusiastic SBP90s music fan Ryan Duncan brought his one man band, Transmontane, down to Austin for a lazy Saturday lunchtime performance on a quiet patio on North Guadalupe, well enough away from the folks already waiting in line downtown to see Kanye go on at 2am.



In addition to it just being a real joy to see Ryan again after such a long time, his music was a pleasure to experience as well. Here's a synopsis of the new Transmontane album, Lo Specchio Circolare:

Lo Specchio Circolare translates to "the circular mirror" in Italian, which is quite appropriate as a title for this collection of 12 songs by Transmontane (AKA Ryan Duncan from Chicago), for the lyrics and the mood on this debut record tend to be reflective in nature. The mood here is introspective, but at the same time it points toward certain elements of the soul that are universal. There is definitely a tone of desperation present, but it does not arrive without an underlying vibration of hope as its constant companion. As profound as our desires may be, when salvation seems to be a million miles away, we must always remember, that at the root of our existence is an eternal wellspring of hope, a fundamental love that exists within us and can never be broken.

These simple, honest songs are simply one man’s attempt to reflect this light back out into the world at large. Look into them, and perhaps you might find your own voice.

The first video above is of one of my favorite cuts from the album, "R.W.S." The one just below here is of the non-album song "Genealogy," which Ryan premiered in live form during SXSW. The shaky video footage comes courtesy of the 2-yr-old troublemaker throwing Hot Wheels at my feet while I was recording.



I encourage everyone to check out the Transmontane album, it was the laid-back jam in my headphones all last week. You can stream or buy the songs via the Transmontane bandcamp site, or splurge for the limited edition vinyl LP, which is really packaged quite beautifully.


Transmontane - Lo Specchio Circolare LP



Transmontane on Facebook

90 Day Men - Live at the Canary House 12-13-1997

90 Day Men drove down to South Bend from Chicago on a couple occasions. From what I remember, the first time was to play with Sweep the Leg Johnny and a ton of other bands, including the Mad Dogs, Bessie (Bessie's set from that night is here), Obstruction and a briefly reunited emiLy, at Clifford the Big Red House.

90 Day Men returned in December 1997 as part of a show at the Canary House with Braid (hear their set from that night here), Kind of Like Spitting, The Butterfly Effect, and Florida Evans.

The recording kicks off with some idle banging on the bell of the ride cymbal, snippets of conversation in the crowd, and the eventual confession from the singer of 90 Day Men, "Our keyboard's kind of broken. So fuck it." The band then launches into a tight 8 song set, a good portion of which consists of new songs with no words.

At one point, the band dedicates a song to fans of the band Rush, which got a big yell from certain members of the crowd. Someone called out a request for "2112 ... the whole thing!" As was the case with many SBP90s house shows, the crowd was quite enthusiastic and appreciative.

The sound quality on the tape is quite good, especially considering Ron Garcia recorded it with one room mic.



download:
90 Day Men - Live at the Canary House 12-13-1997

see also:
90 Day Men on Myspace
90 Day Men on Allmusic

decaf. - We’re The Opening Band (Pt.1): Live at Senior Bar - 12/08/1994

This is the first of 3 live EP releases that we will be putting out over the next few weeks. We’re The Opening Band showcases decaf. in 3 locations around Notre Dame: Senior Bar, The Box (our house), and Dalloway’s Coffee House at St. Mary’s. Each show had its own shining moments, tomfoolery, and unapologetic covers of some of the most sacred cows of hardcore songs... but c’mon, this was Notre Dame. It's not like we were covering Minor Threat at the 9:30 Club, so get over it.

We’re The Opening Band (Pt.1): Live at Senior Bar - 12.08.94... that’s right, Senior Bar. There is a story behind this – my good friend, Molly, was bartending there and was put in charge of booking bands. She asked me if decaf. could play for 2 hours we would get... (are you ready?)... PAID. Unfortunately, all the songs we wrote or covered poorly clocked in at about 48 minutes, so we enlisted our friends Sweep The Leg Johnny to share the bill with us – we did this about 3 or 4 times over the course of the year. The entire show went pretty damn well for 2 bands that had never played in a place like Senior Bar and it was because of this very night that they started “Alternative Night” (*gasp*) - paving the way for our other friends bands to play there as well instead of just cover bands or jam bands.

This show was special because it captures the only time we ever played our homage to our friend, Marco, and his love for Hair Metal – “Marco’s Package”. Ted Hennessy called this medley “pure genius”... so here it is... the first of 3 short “live” releases to exhaust the decaf. vault forever. We hope you enjoy.

--Brian

listen/download:


see also:
decaf. on MySpace

Chisel - Live at 242 Main (Burlington, VT) 4/16/1994

I don't know much about this except that these mp3s got posted by Bradley's Almanac about 6 years ago, recorded at something called Burlingtonitus Fest. It's Chisel, it's 1994, includes rarities "My First Resume" and "Chiefs." There's also a Jam cover... what more do you need to know?

Happy New Year!



download:
Chisel - Live at 242 Main 4/16/1994

Chisel - 8 a.m. All Day

[Although this album was not recorded or produced in South Bend (the band was based out of DC at the time), I doubt anyone will mind too much that we are featuring it here.]

How does one articulate the impact and significance to the Notre Dame scene of a record such as Chisel's 8 a.m. All Day? A record that was the soundtrack for so many road trips, the impetus for spontaneous kitchen sing-alongs, whose songs we knew from live sets played in South Bend basements well before they were ever put to tape. This was our local boys making good with a hot album, the first breakout LP from the SBP90s era.

Even after a couple years of doing this blog, though, I'm still not sure I'd ever be able to write up 8 a.m. All Day and do it proper justice. Besides, the DCist did a fairly decent job of that not too long ago anyway. So instead of just awkwardly gushing on for awhile, I think we'll approach this one a little differently. The first thing we'd like to do is share a pretty fantastic article that Jeff Jotz (Oatmeal, Water) penned back in 1996, and was kind enough to send our way (thanks, Jeff!). The second thing we'll get to after the review, so please read on…

*****

Chisel - 8 a.m. All Day
Reviewed by Jeff Jotz
originally featured in the Dallas magazine The Met, 1996

I first saw Ted Leo and John Dugan play together in my dormitory basement at the University of Notre Dame in 1990. Fisher Hall’s basement boasted a dirt floor and extraordinarily thick concrete walls which killed sound at the basement doors. The dorm was built in the early 1950s, so perhaps the Holy Cross Brothers, fighting the good Cold War fight against the godless Red Menace, designed a bomb-proof shelter in the dorm’s basement to protect the Notre Dame students from the hydrogen bombs hanging over the country’s collective head.

The two wailed and raged down there, with Leo blistering away on guitar in this frantic, uptighty playing style, like he was stiffening up with rigid convulsions. Dugan lazily bounced around the drums, seemingly unaware at the ear-piercing noise resonating off the concrete walls around him. The two did some an energetic cover of Mission of Burma’s “Academy Fight Song” and interpreted their favorite Wire and Mudhoney songs. By the time the two graduated in 1993, they changed bassists and seemed all the rage at a college more known for its football players and wholesome Catholic youth than some music scene. Two years ago the band relocated from South Bend, Indiana to the more friendly frontier of Washington, D.C., where their audience grew beyond the occasional beer blast.

It’s odd writing an uplifting article on the three lads who make up Chisel after watching them evolve from two (later three) guys rooted in political punk, British pop, avant-garde noise rock and standard NYC and DC hardcore to their current and most productive period as innocent harbingers of the mod re-revolution after I watched hours of TV or stumbled around in drunken glory with them. Without a doubt, I knew that this was going to be more than my average music article.

Chisel, made up of Leo, Dugan and bassist/vocalist Chris Norborg (who is a former member of the Notre Dame Glee Club and was recruited by the band in 1992), has a new album out, 8 a.m. All Day (Gern Blandsten). In the past two years, Chisel has refined its sound to the point where many listeners pin the band with the “mod” label. I refrained from including some blatant Who/Jam parallels here, maybe throwing in some reviewer’s interpretation of The Who’s performance at a 1966 show as a creative twist normally found in the higher-brained and more witty music writers. To categorize Chisel strictly with a musical and fashion movement that was always over before it began limits the band’s influences and belittles the new paths it has been forging both on stage and in the studio. All I can say for sure was that I ran into Leo at the Who concert at Giants Stadium in 1989. We all have our guilty pleasures, so nobody can knock Chisel to be Johnny-come-latelies to the Who kick.

“Yeah, the Mod comparison is undeniable,” said Leo, who admits viewing the Jam video “A Town Called Malice” on MTV fifteen years ago has impacted on his musical tastes ever since. “I won’t deny that we enjoy the looks and the sound. However when you do look a certain way perhaps other aspects of the band get overlooked.” He credits his biggest songwriting and guitar influence not the obvious -- Pete Townshend of The Who and Paul Weller of The Jam -- but Steve Marriott, lead singer and guitarist for the Small Faces, a mid-60s British band who were contemporaries of The Who and who never moved beyond cult status in the States.

Leo said that coming of musical age among the anarchistic obstinance of New York’s varied hardcore scene in the mid-1980s emboldened him with what he calls “that punk energy and ethic,” adding “Hardcore in New York was always a bit crazier and insane than other scenes. It carries over to my performance, in contrast with all those indie rock shoegazers.” The 25-year-old native of Bloomfield, New Jersey comes across offstage as a latent Dick Vitale, quietly mellow with occasional outbursts of emotion. Onstage, he assumes the identity of a nerdy Mr. Hyde, his jerky energy and absorbing guitar resonating in nervous fits and starts.

“The mod shift wasn’t a calculated thing,” said Dugan, a D.C.-area native who was weaned on the sounds of local legends Fugazi and Rites of Spring. “We figured what we liked in our songwriting and channeled it. There was no ‘defining moment’ for our new direction. The Jam comparison has been so overstated. While it’s a flattering comparison, I don’t hear it so much in our music.”



The trio’s new album -- the band boasts four singles, four appearances on compilation records and a 1995 EP/CD -- takes the listener on a slam-bang rocket trip through many styles of music, from mid-60s British and American garage punk of the same era to the hyperactive indie punk of contemporaries Superchunk. Yeah, you can hear Who-type bass lines in one song and perhaps a self-conscious guitar nod to Paul Weller in another, but the line is drawn there. The three successfully weave a variety of their respective music experiences in a powerful yet never overwhelming album. Hyperactive at times to make you think you’ve had too many cups of coffee, Chisel does not drift through their songs aimlessly without direction. They make their point and make a bee line to deliver quickly, as if the three are trying to beat each other to the end of each song. It works marvelously.

Chisel recently wrapped up a Midwest tour with fellow Washingtonians Fugazi and Lungfish -- Fugazi’s Guy Picciotto is a big fan of the band -- and play quite often in our nation’s capital and in New York City.

My picks? Try the slowly-bouncing tale of Leo’s journeys in “Citizen of Venus,” the paced and singalong rhythms of “Breaking Up With Myself,” and the CD’s title track, which really highlights the cool vocal games of Leo and Norborg.

So save your parkas, bowling shoes and Vespa scooters for the reruns of The Young Ones. Chisel is one of the few bands which proudly flaunts its musical influences while being individual enough to stand out even more distinctly among the pack of bandwagon bands who trace their roots to the first time they heard “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” What’s certain is if the Who ever reunites again for some big rock concert, Leo, Dugan and Norborg will be there having a dilly of a time with ol’ Pete, Roger and John.

*****

For the second part of this we're going to put it on y'all a little. Faithful readers of the SBP90s blog, former ND rockers, casual visitors from across the internet… what did this beloved Chisel album mean to you? Contribute to the comments section and share your memories, stories, and enthusiasm for Chisel and 8 a.m. All Day.


Chisel - 8 a.m. All Day
buy it on iTunes, Amazon

[sorry, no free download. if you regularly read this blog and don't already own this --- shame on you. go buy it now!]

see also:
Chisel on MySpace
more Chisel on SBP90s

The Cole Estate - Live at the Hive 11/13/1998

My memory is so hazy, I can't remember how I came to be in the band. Maybe Ron recommended me? Anyway, I was by far the youngest in the band. It was a little intimidating. Dean was a pretty fantastic guitar player. He could pull off crazy "licks," I believe they're called. My style was (and is) based on slop. So maybe that had a nice yin/yang thing? I believe it was my role to put some quirky "leads" over the songs Dean and Amy had written. We rehearsed a few times in the basement of the Hive, aka Ron's house. Did we only play one show together? Did we ever talk to each other again? Was it a love-rectangle that forced our demise? Or an argument over a meatball sandwich? (No, definitely not that. Maybe a seitan sandwich?)

Gosh almighty, I can hardly remember anything at all. What's wrong with me? I remember our cover of "Heart of Glass," because Amy's vocals really shined on it. And I remember her song about how she loved her dog. And I remember Dean suggesting we do a cover of the Pixies' "Bone Machine," and I was always kind of bummed that never happened.

- John




Like John, I really don’t remember how we all got together except that Ron was wanting to play the drums and I happened to live with a very good guitar player and I knew John was a cool kid. That’s it. Overall, I think it’s unfortunate that we only had maybe seven practices and two shows. I think we could have been alright if we had time to actually be a band. I’m not sure seven practices and two shows even qualifies as a side project. Again, I had no idea what I was doing, but I had fun. As with Bessie, I maintain the attitude that girls everywhere should pick up an instrument if they feel like it and see what happens. So what if it is less than amazing or downright sucks. By the way Chris, I was never ever trying to be Kim Deal. It would have been a lot simpler if I had been. If I was trying to rip anyone off it was the chic from Dahlia Seed. Much more difficult to do—especially while playing an instrument that you don’t really know how to play. I still couldn’t sing in minor keys, but continued to write songs that required such skill. Oh well--my kids love "Gertrude Is a Dog," so I guess that’s something!

Unfortunately, our time together was so brief, there is not a lot to say. I, too, regret that we never covered "Bone Machine." I remember feeling bad for John and Ron for having to listen to Dean and myself bicker about the songs…sorry about that. That last Cole Estate show also taught me never ever to drink Osco vodka. Sorry again about your car Ron. Thanks Tracy for the Febreze. Anyway—good times.

- Amy


Just like everyone else, I don't remember the exact details of our genesis as a band. I was living in the Hive with Andy, and really took to playing the drums. Amy rocked the house in Bessie and since we ran into each other all the time in the Cushing-Fitzpatrick engineering building, we were bound by fate to form a band. I think Dean was just wrapping up his time in another band (or not?), so we started playing together, practicing in my basement. Since I didn't really know how to play the drums yet I was mostly stealing ideas from the other drummers in the scene (particularly Vinny and Doug), but it was a lot of fun. Dean noted that my playing was rather unorthodox, but he seemed to enjoy it.

I had a lot of fun playing in Cole Estate. IIRC, I flaked out of the band at some point, but I have some memory of being replaced by a grateful dead-esque drummer? Sorry for being flakey.

I probably won't ever forget the Osco Vodka night. It was really funny (probably not for Amy though). Special thanks go to Tracy for fixing plumbing problems in our little beat up house (which was otherwise pretty great for throwing shows) and cleaning up my car.

- Ron

The HickUps - Live at the Canary House 11/22/1997

At first I thought I remembered almost nothing about this band. Luckily for you some of it has come back!

It happened the first semester of my senior year, sometime in 1997, and was very short lived. I am shocked there was a recording made of this, that someone saved it and it wasn't subsequently taped over by Trusty or Juliana Hatfield or something.

This band was an effort on my part to play the kind of music I was into at the time. I did not know how to play guitar yet and no one I was friends with was really into the same stuff, so it came down to finding people who would put up with me and do their best under the circumstances. I had spent the prior summer as an intern at Crypt Records, which at the time was renting office space in LA from In the Red and Birdman Records. In a short period of time I had been turned on to a lot of music that totally changed my life and while no one at Notre Dame shared my enthusiasm for any of it, I was dying to play in a different kind of band.

This is who I liked and sought to emulate: Nine Pound Hammer, Oblivians, New Bomb Turks, Dwarves, New York Dolls, Dead Boys, Pussy Galore, and GG Allin. Also older stuff like Hank Williams and James Brown. Which as you can hear means absolutely nothing in relation to what this band turned out to be.

I was living with Doug at the Canary House (where this live show took place) and though he says otherwise I am positive I bugged the shit out of him 24 hours a day. We had played together in the Mad Dogs the prior year and he was way into his more serious bands by this time. Playing bass along to my awkward anti-PC blabbering was not his idea of how to open a Butterfly Effect show, I assure you. I do not know how I talked him into the HickUps but I know he hated it.

I was poorly trying to learn guitar around this time and I think at least one of these songs originated in the band eventually known as the Go-Lightlys, who kicked me out for guitaral ineptitude and romantic incompatibly. Andy Yang was in that band, and as the ex-drummer of the Catatonics and co-host of the Chris and Andy Boom Boom Dedication Show on WVFI, was in no position to refuse the HickUps drum stool. Though he did repeatedly and eventually permanently. Of all the people who simultaneously quit the HickUps after this our second show, I believe his abdication hurt the most because it was the last time we ever played together. Though I am making it up and it is possible we played together at least 3 times afterwards.

When starting the HickUps, the only thing I knew I wanted was a lot of searing, obnoxious rocknroll guitar solos. This was like the least cool thing imaginable in the South Bend Power 90s scene and to do so without an ironic smirk would have been even harder. I had to go outside the Mad Dogs gene pool, which I was reluctant to do. I do not know where we found John Huston and his Fender Jag-Stang, but I am glad we did. With the Catatonics' Dave "The Night" Stoker nowhere to be found, John appeared to be the only guitarist available who knew basic blues scales and was unafraid to solo using them for more than 3 seconds. We tried to talk as little as possible about the fact that he had major wet dreams about Nirvana as late as 1997.

Listening to this show, here are my thoughts:

1) I hate my voice on these songs. I hate hearing my stupid between song banter and I hate my inability to keep my mouth a safe distance from the mic. I hate how I am doing this lame HC screaming, not singing. The lyrics are awful yet I am enunciating them toooooo much for full effect (none).

2) Getting these guys to understand what I was trying to accomplish was impossible. I was not good enough to do it myself and to ask them to mimic the Dead Boys or the New York Dolls (when the prevailing influences were Braid and Jawbreaker) was too weird.

3) The songs that were not covers were written by me singing guitar parts and John trying to mimic the sounds on guitar. Every time we played them they were different and I remember this show was really like making it up as we went along.

4) "Knoxville Girl" is a cover of bluegrass warbler Hylo Brown's version of the old murder ballad. To this day his version is the most sadistic I have heard. I found it on a cheapo 60s country LP comp with a burning prison on the cover. Pretty up my alley back then.

5) "Gazebo" steals thematically from the Raymond Carver short story of the same name. Written for the Go-Lightlys I think. Awkwardness abounds.

6) I still think "Like a Rolling Head" is a great name for a song. Though to be honest, Weird Al is a major lifelong influence.

We played one show before this at Club 23 (where I spent the majority of my time 1997-98). I hope Ted has a copy of the flyer for that show, because it is so much better than the band ever was. Of course as you would expect, Moe cut the set short and told us to pack it up. I am sure I dulled the pain of embarrassment one way or another.

OK! Enjoy!



--Chris



No matter what Chris says, he did not bug the shit out of me 24 hours a day. I learned a hell of a lot about music during the year we lived together, and Chris did an admirable job of trying to bust me out of the Jawbreaker/Braid/DisChord Records bubble I tended to live in. (Though I did know about the New Bomb Turks -- in fact, one of my personal high points in the history of emiLy was playing in Columbus, OH and having Eric from NBT come up to us and compliment us on our set afterwards. I also saw NBT and Gauge in Boston sometime in the 90s and it was fucking awesome.) That Chris was not more successful is more a reflection of my stubbornness winning out over his. Shocking, I know.

The HickUps played more than one show? Apparently my memory of '97-98 is hazier than I thought. Great fun, but the sort of fun that sometimes requires photographic evidence to remember.

--Doug



The funny thing is, I hardly remember playing in this band! I do remember a terrible showing at Club 23, and how I felt very inadequate as a drummer with Doug (master drummer) in the band wondering why I couldn't keep a simple beat. At least that's how I felt. Haha!

--Andy



I remember this show. When Chris called out the first song of the set, I instead played the last song of the set. Not because I was super punk and trying to fuck up his shit. No, it was because I was a total moron and totally didn't know the names of any of the songs.

The HickUps was Chris' thing, and we all knew it. We were all just fine with it, too. A number of weeks prior to this show, he and I got together in the very same Canary House basement to "write songs." Chris, of course, had already come up with a handful of songs. Since he couldn't play guitar, he grunted and hummed and waved his hands at me, trying to figure out how to get what he heard in his mind to come through my guitar. I did my best to decipher his vocal "melodies" and ascribe a chord progression to them.

And yeah, it was a Fender Jagstang. Let it go, dude.

But that brings me to my favorite memory of the HickUps show at the Canary House. I don't know that I've ever told Chris about this, given his obvious hatred for grunge and embarrassment by my guitar, but some dude came up to me at the end of the set and he was ecstatic. Like, overjoyed, if I dare use that word. He'd been banging around in the "audience" the entire set. He told me that he was from Seattle, and that he hadn't seen a live show like that since the early '90s. He thanked me for going nuts onstage and asked when we were going to play again.

So while the HickUps initially started as a band that would combine Punk, Soul, and Country (making what I liked to call "poultry"), it was clearly a grunge band. And that was my fault.

And Chris has never forgiven me.

--John

Pinky - Live at the Hive 12/12/1998

Attesting to the thorough nature of this blog, I would like to introduce, Pinky, possibly the only one-show-wonder, all-girl band in the history of ND Power 90s rock. Closely linked to the Florida Evans Showband and Revue, Pinky exploded out of fan-club/girlfriend status to take their place on the stage. Shamelessly using all Flo Evans equipment and practice space in the Bulla St. stone house basement, Pinky soon relished a sugary sweet sound, hailing from their icons Cub. Elfin Amy Bowman led the charge as singer/guitarist. Her shy, sweet stage presence set the tone for the band. She was supported with more enthusiasm than talent by co-habitants of the 716 Washington St estate, Courtney Blum on drums, Kristin D'Agostino on bass, and Emily Edwards on vocals and "keyboard that never managed to materialize."

While Pinky was hyped-up on the thrill of playing as a group, Matt Curreri had the foresight to make a Pinky recording (sans Edwards) of the two Cub covers before the first show. Pinky opened for Florida Evan and (to our surprise the ultra-hip and therefore extremely intimidating) Boston-based Lynx, on a cold night in the stone house basement (probably the late fall of 1998). Possibly because we stocked the audience with ready-made fans, the set was a huge hit. There were cameras and even a video, but no evidence could be relocated [ed. check that-- we found two photos!].

Still enjoying the "first show high," the band imploded with the sad truth that three Pinky members could not date two Florida Evans members and coexist.

It was great while it lasted, but love, love it tore us apart again.

- Kristin