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Personal Best
The Joggers leave the competition gasping.
A lot of bands come 'round knocking on doors in this town, looking to off-load some merchandise scarcely distinguishable from that of their competitors. Face it--the difference between Average All-Male Indie Rock Band A and Average All-Male Indie Rock Band B roughly compares to the difference between competing car insurance companies. One may offer "better service" or "nicer people," one may have a snappier logo, but they are essentially alike in both their function and their transcendent averageness.
A word to savvy people in the business, then: Fear the Joggers. For many, they represent unplanned retirement cresting the horizon. This is a band that is doing the Work--the thankless tours to godless parts of the nation, tense negotiations with the minions of the music industry and, let's not forget, chiseling songs that accomplish the rare feat of being something new, something different for the consumer of today.
Groping for an explanation of just what sets this particular Portland band apart, many latch onto the song "Back to the Future," which appeared on a winning self-titled CD last year and is now available in MP3 via www.thejoggers.com. When a four-part melodic chorale based on truly old shape-note singing techniques bursts, foamy as a young colt, from the band's scruffy shamble, you know this is not just another scavenger-act scraping the last few morsels off Pavement's skeleton. The band's best hints at a pretty ambitious pop agenda, a belief that rock might still be good for something besides two drink tickets per band member plus a few pals on the guest list.
Good thing, then, that Los Jogs recently signed to New York's ballyhooed Star Time International Records, home to such talked-about survivors of Brooklyn's brutal hipster ghetto as the French Kicks and the Walkmen. The deal, which ought to convert into cool, hard little plastic discs after a March recording session, will no doubt help the band originally known as Stateside cement its identity. It may even lift the Joggers beyond the humble surroundings of their first tour last year, when they found themselves closing a Jewish birthday party in Pittsburgh and performing a civilizing mission among mosh-happy 15-year-old Nashville super-punks. ("They looked at us like we were the Gay Men's Chorus," says drummer Jake Morris.)
In all, the story of the Joggers today is that of a band that not only maintains the high level of fitness its name implies, but is also set to reap the benefits.
"A lot of bands, it's a weekend thing," says guitarist Ben Whitesides. "That can be fine, and not to say that isn't a serious undertaking. But I think we were all enticed by the idea that this could be something more." Zach Dundas
PREVIEW
Pale Fire
The Black Keys aim to prove the blues ain't about color.
People often tell Dan Auerbach that, for a twentysomething white guy, he sings and plays the blues pretty well.
"I don't buy it," he says. "If you have soul, you have it. If you don't, you don't."
Granted, when you think "white bluesman," the milquetoast wankery of Eric Clapton and Stevie Ray Vaughan probably comes to mind. Or, maybe, meatball Chicago blues "impressionists" like Bruce Willis or the Blues Brothers. None of which exactly helps the argument that white folks can play the blues with soul. But thankfully, the Black Keys neither attempt to wring maudlin tears from the boomer set nor play soundtrack music for beer commercials.
Like a growing number of underground bands, the Akron duo reinterprets primordial-soup Delta Blues with true verve. The Black Keys' droning and ringing chords, Homo habilis drumming and haunted wail recall the harmonic hum of Son House and Junior Kimbrough. The duo's sophomore album, Thickfreakness, comes out this spring on Fat Possum, the label celebrated for introducing America's youthful Caucasians to the noisy, rocking juke-joint rural songs of Kimbrough, R.L. Burnside and T Model Ford. The Big Come Up, the pair's rocking, hoodoo-trance debut, was praised for its soulful sound, regardless of the band's age or skin color.
"Blues music is not African; it's just American," Auerbach explains. "It's influenced by European music, Irish music--a whole bunch of different things. It's an American tradition, and it's open to anybody."
Inspired by his father's record collection and the ethereal lull of Kimbrough's recordings, the guitarist became immersed in learning his hero's guitar style. "His playing style was so weird," Auerbach says. "He drags his thumb on the A-string and plays the high notes with his pointing-finger, which gives it that hypnotic quality."
Once Auerbach mastered Kimbrough's technique and the Delta tradition of singing the same notes as the guitar's melody, the Black Keys found little need for additional players. "I play a lot of bass notes with my thumb," the guitarist notes. "We tried playing with a Moog keyboard player. But it really didn't work, because my thumb always got in the way." Doesn't it always? Dave Clifford
The Black Keys open for Sleater-Kinney and Quasi on Saturday, Feb. 1, at Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside St., 225-5555 ext. 8811. 9 pm. $10. All ages.
MUSIC. NIGHTLIFE. NEWS. GOSSIP. RETRIBUTION.
HISS and VINEGAR
AGGRIEVED ANONYM LASHES BACK ON TRIVIA TACTICS
Recently, Hiss & Vinegar reported the complaints of some Beulahland trivia-night contestants, who alleged that certain rivals resorted to cell-phone usage in the bar/cafe's every-Tuesday quiz. This week, H&V received the following communiqué, penned in blue ink on Mandalay Bay Las Vegas stationery:
Dear Hiss & Vinegar,
Jimmy's Trivia Tuesday doesn't have any rules. NO RULES. You can cheat if you want to. You can have 16 people on your team if you want, you can use your wireless web, look in your dayplanners for obscure holidays or foreign measurement conversions...some people bring the newspaper and find the answers in there. It's nearly impossible, though, to cheat your way to victory: the questions are varied and difficult, and you don't have much time. If people are bitching because they never win: GET A BRAIN...or appreciate the fact that in this town, the cool kids are the geeks. That ain't so bad.
--Little Bird
Got that?
DING DONG!
Last week's big music-industry news: Hilary Rosen, longtime CEO of the Recording Industry Association of America, resigned in order to "spend more time with family." This came on the heels of Rosen's long holy war against digital file trading and other IMMEDIATE AND PRESSING THREATS TO CIVILIZATION, a crusade that made her easily the most hated woman in music. (Sorry, Courtney--but look on the bright side: The title is now once again yours for the taking.) This brilliant marketing/PR scheme, of course, is in no way to blame for the catastrophic decline in CD sales over the last two years. No, that's your goddamn fault.
B COMPLEX CAPO PLOTS M-HAT REVIVAL
The Medicine Hat Gallery, the funky Alberta Street venue plagued by booking-policy instability and puzzling management before going tits-up late last year, may be on the "comeback trail." Word from m'man in the liquor biz is that Rob Schneider, who runs all-ages-not-by-choice Southeast venue B Complex, is hunting a booze permit for the M-Hat. We tried but failed to reach the ex-owner of downtown eatery Cup o' Cheer, so Lawdy knows what he's got planned. Of course, B Complex ran into a titanium wall in its quest for a liquor license, denied by the liquor commish because of past problems at its industrial East Bank location. Forced to detour down the all-ages path to pay the bills, the Complex never realized ambitious schemes to flower into a cross-cultural post-millennial nightspot for adults. Watch H&V for details.
OED: NOT JUST FOR LEXICOGRAPHERS ANYMORE
Curious readers can keep abreast of riveting pop cultural developments via a new website from local ad-marketing-talent consortium Overland Agency. The agency's Entertainment Division, headed by one Dave Allen (former bass player for a certain English punk band often imitated by grad-school dropouts from Brooklyn), launched the site early this month. In addition to providing quick bytes of news, www.overlandagency.com/oed invites PDX bands to submit MP3s to its streaming audio channels for free. For more info, pry your browser off Suicidegirls.com for a few minutes and check the action.
Hiss & Vinegar needs all the help it can get: hiss@wweek.com.
WWeek 2015