Smells Like Pop

It was billed as a celebration of the fourth anniversary for Tender Loving Empire, the downtown record label/art store/ collective, best known for the many talented local bands it promotes (including And And And, Willamette Week’s recently-named #1 “new band” of the year). As a birthday party, it started out straightforward enough—goofy name tags, glitter bombs, and door prizes drawn out of the belly of a giant Yoda-monkey. It was an occasion to introduce the newest band to the self-described “family,” Radiation City, who opened with their curious blend of garage rock and vocals reminiscent of 50s-era nostalgia. Loch Lomond was next up, playing a pleasant if mellow set that climaxed with a rousing cover from…what, Fleetwood Mac? Y La Bamba followed, looking a little bored after the high of touring with Neko Case. Actually, I think it was annoyance, as the sound system threatened to revolt, but it could also have been directed at the dance-impaired crowd, whom they tried to cajole with passionate Spanish rhythms, to which the crowd responded with…a sway. To be fair, it was a hard-core sway. Typhoon took over confidently from there, beating the sound system into submission by sheer force of numbers, and playing pitch-perfect versions of songs from their captivating album Hunger and Thirst. They demonstrated the key to their meteoric rise this year (starting at SXSW and Sasquatch, resting now before a tour with The Decemberists, and onward to Lollapalooza)—they were simply having a great time on stage.  But the superhero of the event was Jon Ragel, who is Boy Eats Drum Machine. He had the unenviable task of playing between sets, adding rhythm to the endless soundchecks on the main stage.  His own stage was tiny, but with completely spastic energy he bounced between his turntable, electronics, an old-school drum kit, and incongruously, a saxophone—all the while singing over the top of his random samples.  His font of enthusiasm rescued the show at several points of potential disarray.

However, the stars of the party were not the headlining bands. Jered Mees, Tender Loving’s emperor, took the stage with The Grown Children, humbly noting the challenge of the task of cleaning up after the talented groups he has so successfully promoted. “I hate to say it, but these last few years have been hell,” he sang from 2008’s Caffeine, Alcohol, Sunshine, Money, a sentiment that’s a bit out of context nowadays. With the success of his progeny, a popular downtown business hocking arty merch, and a band tour of his own, Tender’s patriarch certainly had reason to celebrate. His jovial party band rose to the occasion with him. And just like your last family birthday party, chaos threatened to take over, as the TLE ranks surged the stage, one grabbing a megaphone to shout “vagina!” and other oddities during a rowdy birthday song, and the obligatory drunk party-crasher called for “Freebird” endlessly, but not getting enough attention, jumped on stage enough times to annoy the bouncer and get turned into a human surfboard. The revelry was not to be squelched–“Only Good Thoughts Can Stay,” the band sang from their newest album of the same name. Catchy. One might question Jered Mees and his love of tender–the dogged attempt to monetize some nebulous concept of hipdom–but you can’t begrudge his optimistic spirit and incredible aptitude for drawing such talent around him.

Sure, you can spend dozens of dollars on national acts. The imported stuff might be worth it, but there is arguably just as much quality in the home-grown right now. And with so many local Portland bands playing for cheap (or even free), what’s your excuse for not going out to catch a show? What, the kids? Just leave the baby monitor with a neighbor…what could go wrong?

Hosannas:  Currently a two-piece outfit, these guys played the Bunk Bar on the eve of their launch toward SXSW. While the venue isn’t ideal for live music, the band immediately grabbed attention, charming the crowd with their dreamy duets.  And they were efficient, filling the place with sound without heavy reliance on pre-recorded tracks. A drum-machine backed up their heavy synth and minimalist guitar-work, but their ample vocal talents remained at center-stage. They did a Brian Wilson cover that would have roused the man from his druggy slumber, before tucking him back to bed with a wispy lull-a-bye. The show was for free, as is their memorable six-part EP, The People I Know, available on their website. Along with their understandable aversion to selling merch, it’s not clear how they got enough gas money to get to Austin. Though their long-term survival might be in question, you can’t doubt their sincerity—they closed with an invitation to the audience, “Come hang out with us. We’ll eat sandwiches.”

Y La Bamba:  Supporting their recent release, Lupon,  these guys opened the third Google “Best Ever” concert in a converted church-bar.  Three vocalists took the fore, but the two men quickly found their place as support for the lush stylistics of Luzelena Mendoza, tall and charming in her tiger sweatshirt (a la “Flight of the Conchords”) and a black bowler hat. Mendoza’s voice was somehow edgy and old-fashioned at the same time, sounding like it could be emanating from a hand-cranked Gramophone. With accordion and occasional mandolin, the band laid out a surprisingl mellow instrumental backing, accentuated by complex drum-work invoking salsa rhythms. The band wound down with a song about Michoacan, which instead brought to mind a serenade from a terrace somewhere in the Spanish Pyrenees. Haunting and understated, the music of Y La Bamba would be the perfect accompaniment to a sunny afternoon with a pitcher of sangria–or perhaps more realistically, a cloudy one and a bottle of Mike’s.

Typhoon:  Second in the lineup, eleven members of the band Typhoon (I think one was missing, but maybe they didn’t notice) literally filled what was a fairly large stage, starting out with a goofy power-tap. Six instrumentalists crowded at front alongside their leader Kyle Morton, remaining silent while he opened with a moody acoustic number. Immediately one was presented with the enigma that is Typhoon—how is it that a twelve-piece band is so thoroughly dominated by a single personality, who the liner notes indicate wrote all the songs to Hunger and Thirst?  Perhaps this is due to necessity—if all the members were let loose, interjecting their own creative energies, it might be chaos…it might be And And And. If the lead singer is indeed a cult leader, or a dictator, he must be a benevolent one. Clearly he inspires loyalty from his talented band, and if you take their recent video for “The Honest Truth” on face value, they live happily in a cozy home together, literally sharing a bathroom.  But in both the video and the live show, when the crew breaks out, they tear the place down. Three percussionists, a host of instruments befitting a fully-funded school band, and outbursts into full choir-mode create an impressive spectacle. The contrast with the sparse vocals in songs like “The Sickness Unto Death” makes the lyrics all the more stark. The twelve are currently representing the ‘hood at SXSW, and I’m sure they’re doing us proud.

The Dandy Warhols: Last and littlest (in size, not stature—they had a light show) on Google’s bill, the Dandys played a K-Tel’s greatest hits set. Dressed in a Puffy Shirt, Courtney Taylor-Taylor admitted to his aspirations to be Jimmie Hendrix with mock self-mocking. Zia McCabe did her best to balance out the stage, which was heavily weighted in the center by Taylor-Taylor’s formidable ego (why did he take on the incestuous surname late in life? Mr. T-T will never tell). Truth be told, the Dandys do put together a respectable stage show, with strong instrumental backing by Peter Holmstrom and newly-rejoined drummer Eric Hedford. But that alone doesn’t diminish my main beef—what, Dandys, nothing new to show us? Next time, I’ll check out Pete International Airport instead.

Thanks to Google Hotpot for spotlighting local talent in such interesting venues.