Vetiver's Andy Cabic

After a few slightly clumsy songs, Mumlers singer, Will Sprott, confided in the audience that the band is now shy a bassist and tambourine player, forcing the now five-piece act to improvise their roles during select songs. If there is such a thing as a happy accident, this seemed a great example. Hearing a tuba replace a bass during a 60s-esque, R&B, she-left-me song added just the perfect amount of cacophony to their vintage sound. However, Sprott’s butter-melting voice, which rivals that of Nina Simone, is the real comeliness of this San Jose band. Boys, you are representing in the South Bay and I am won the fuck over.

Vetiver certainly took an already warmed up crowd to new heights. The SF band, fronted by Andy Cabic, who co-wrote songs on Devendra Banhart‘s Cripple Crow, is an extremely chill folk get-up that tastefully trims their songs with a southern charm. However, the performance seemed slightly one-note for those of us who require a little more weight in our music. Yet, the slightly more pop-y songs in Vetiver’s repertoire almost reached the aforementioned weight requirements, but not quite.

One of life’s many astonishing moments is when the opening band sets the bar higher than the headliner can reach, and The Mumlers certainly dropped jaws in that respect. Well, at least the jaw of yours truly.

Photos by Jessica Mejia

Saturday night was blustery, but a crowd was already a block deep to get into Bottom of the Hill to see British pop songstress Kate Nash.

NYC’s Supercute, a bubblegum trio who looked like little confections with candy bows, were introduced by Nash, who was seen sitting side-stage during the set singing along to the girls’ infectious ditties. With sweet and earnest harmonies as well as a rather mischievous sense of humor, Supercute more than lived up to their moniker. They reminded me of my little sisters, which wasn’t surprising, considering they ranged in age from 13 (June Lei on keys) to 16 (Rachel Trachtenberg on uke).

Wait a minute, wait a minute! Cue intense jealousy: opening for a kind-of-a-big-thing artist like internet sensation Kate Nash at the age of 13? Gosh, I hope the rest of her teenage years aren’t a let-down. But anyway, Supercute — who explained that they came up with their name because they like to say that they’re supercute on stage — sang original songs about candy (“Candy City”) and pigeons. The “Hula Hoop Song,” which had Trachtenberg and guitarist Julie Cumming twisting on stage with hula hoops as they sang, was especially adorable. Especially when they told us that the airline wouldn’t allow them to bring their hoops on the plane. Probably the best moment of Supercute’s set was a stripped down cover of Pink Floyd’s “Pigs,” a song they dubbed one of their favorites. What’s their age again? Their last song of the evening was “Not to Write About Boys,” a way-better-than that fantastic Brandy/Monica collaboration “The Boy Is Mine”: in Supercute’s version they fall in love with the same boy and and almost break up. And then they realize that it’s not worth it. Ah, friends 4 eva! Let’s read Baby-Sitters Club books together, girls!

A cup of tea preceded Kate Nash on stage. Nash, garbed in a short motorcycle jacket and smeared red, red lipstick, spoke softly as she greeted the audience. She opened with “Paris,” her wailing a slap in the face after her light banter with the audience. Nash mouthed the ba-dum-ba-dums right along with her keyboard, reminiscent of the energy that Tori Amos or Amanda Palmer has behind the piano, launching into a set that included magical moments like “Mouthwash” and “Don’t You Want to Share the Guilt?” Easily moving between the keys (amazing) and the guitar (slightly less so), 22-year-old Nash sang songs a little like your middle school diary set to music, but with all of that angst coloring her voice.

When Nash introduced a song about homophobia, the audience booed, and she congratulated us for not cheering. “If you’re homophobic, you’re a prick,” said Nash, and we heartily agreed. Supercute took to the stage once more when Nash sang her hit “Foundations.” The girls were dressed in matching sequined hot pink dresses and danced behind Nash, who said that she never wanted to play “Foundations” without them. Nash easily became my favorite of the musicians of her type that have come out of the U.K., like Lily Allen or Adele, thanks to her ability to make you feel as if you both are laying on the floor of her bedroom listening to some pretty intense secrets shared between best friends.

Picture Atlantic

On Saturday night (4/24/10) San Jose-based Picture Atlantic and Bay Area natives Bird by Bird and Please Do Not Fight rocked Bottom of the Hill.

Very slowly, Picture Atlantic has been leaking tracks off their new EP Dulce Et Decorum Est (Latin for “It is sweet and right”) on their Pledge music page. As always, it was such a pleasure to see them perform because they combine tremendous musicianship with well-written songs. Onstage front-man (Nik) will keep you wondering where he gets the energy to make those facial expressions. Seriously, go check them out, if only for his expressions.

Playing songs off their prior full album, Kleos, combined with their new tunes, they kept an almost packed house at Bottom of the Hill fully satisfied and wanting more and more. If you missed it, check here for more tour dates.

Bird by Bird

If Berkeley band Bird by Bird were properly named, they would call themselves Vests by Vests (see above), as 2 guitarists and 1 bass player all wore matching – uh –  vests. They opened with an amazing song, but it was the rest of their set that threw me for a loop, as it seemed experimental across all sorts of genres. Is the band good? Yes. Especially guitarist-lead man Jonathan Devoto, whom absolutely shreds. No wonder, the Alternative Press voted him one of the top 3 guitarists in 2008.

And, I’d love to say that I caught Please Do Not Fight but alas, a 30-minute MUNI delay actually curbed me. So to them, I apologize. I walked in on their last song “Up UP UP.”

After a failed attempt to see Surfer Blood at their free show at Amoeba on Thursday (who knew that rock shows could start on time. 6 p.m., really?), and battling with a host of other writers, and even my editor, my quest was finally realized.  Surfer Blood! My favorite album of the year: all the hype, all the backlash — the truth would finally be revealed.

But first, The Turbo Fruits.

The Turbo Fruits blew up Bottom of the Hill on Friday. When Jonas Stein jumped in the audience for the last song of their set and whaled on his guitar as the audience formed a circle around him and gleefully jumped up and down, it was a foregone conclusion: nobody was topping this. With a blues sound that is big in the U.K. and a little reminiscent of Jack White, the Turbo Fruits played with swagger and confidence. With songs ranging from “Volcano,” an ode to a THC vaporizer, to a rocking rendition of “Bad Moon Rising,” the guys from Tennessee know how to throw a party.

Surfer Blood came on after a brief break and jumped into the Astro Coast opener “Floating Vibes.”  The guitar work was solid, and immediately it was apparent that lead singer John Paul Pitts traded in some of the softer vocals on the record for a growl. It was a good, visceral choice, especially following the Turbo Fruits. “Anchorage” and “Take it Easy” showcased the band’s ability to switch up the pace, while “Swim” had the place rocking. The guys lack any brooding, and seem to be enjoying the ride. They smiled at each other and the audience for most of the night, and genuinely seemed to be having fun. It transferred to the audience and made for a great show.

Why don’t the Vivian Girls play “Where Do You Run?” I wasn’t that surprised when they were touring for their first record didn’t play it, but this round I was a little annoyed. It’s the song that broke them and made a semi iconic band out of the cute edgy looking girls with tattoos and severe bangs that can sing sixties doo wop and can legitimately rip.

I liked everything else about the set though, especially the a cappella section where they harmonized with each other as they stood together stage right. “Tell the World” is just as good as the aforementioned neglected song, and it was a privilege to hear “Wild Eyes”, and “When I’m Gone” from their new record. They’ve put out two very cool LPs (and some singles too, including a cover of the Beach Boys’ “Surfs Up”) and the crowd was into all of it, bouncing through the songs with each other.

Usually we’re caught up writing about the headliners and how they live up to the hype. We’re not so sure that this show went that direction.

Kicking off the stage on Thursday night, low-key instrumentalists, El Ten Eleven absolutely blew away the crowd with their very unique stage presence. Wielding a double neck guitar with a fretless bass (a la Robert Plant, although tweaked to El Ten Eleven standards), the duo harmoniously looped extremely difficult drumbeats while playing the guitar and bass at the same time. Even though the sound system was a little overcompensated at Bottom of the Hill, these guys pulled out some of the best sliding bass rhythms and loop sequences that we’ve ever seen. They were so good in fact, that the crowd begged them to play an encore. When was the last time you saw an opener play an encore? Exactly. Most comparable to big-timers, Ratatat, but without the big hype, mainstream recognition, El Ten Eleven is greatly under-appreciated and we expect them to pull out of the underground circuit into some big time success in the near future.

Next, up were local sweethearts, Magic Bullets. Their stage presence is incredible and up beat, and the tunes something akin to old-school British pop. We loved the erratic dancing and catchy rhythms. We’d definitely be willing to check them out again.

After the build-up, iTunes superstars, Chairlift, took to the stage at Bottom of the Hill last night with a very specific goal in mind. Blend their new brand of raw artsy noise-rock with a teensy bit of their old indie pop that we all know and love so much. With a completely unexpected sound and very straightforward show, we’re still pondering if the message came fully through, but Chairlift does provide some talented musicianship in addition to their occasionally catchy tunes. Their new edgy material will definitely take some getting used to, but we are looking forward to witnessing the next direction that they take this in.

There is something about Bottom Of The Hill, most likely in large part due to the infamous booker there, Ramona Downey (and Ursula Rodriguez, of course); they are always on the cutting edge of what’s coming up in the San Francisco music scene. And perhaps that’s a requisite when you place a club in the middle of an abandoned warehouse district, you better know what you’re doing just to get bodies in the door. Case and point, September 3rd’s local alt-rock power bands Robots Of Fury, Fighting The Villain, and Scene Of Action made for a night filled to the brim with writhing guitar solos, pedal distortions, grungy female (and male!) lead vocals, and so much angst it could barely be contained in the room.

That being said, openers Robots Of Fury were not ones to be reckoned with. Their experienced sound and clean synchronicities gave them enough credit in our book to be their own headliners. Perfected guitar solos and a pedal train of distortions by guitarist Jamie Cronander launched their sound into an arena of noise, without crossing the barrier entirely, while Amir Djavaherian’s hard-hitting bass lines matched the intensity of lead singer Valerie Giuili’s deep and dark style mildly reminiscent of a rare operatic contralto. All blended together with Logan’s steady drums and Robots Of Fury have enough stage presence and depth to their material that we wouldn’t be surprised to see them come one up in the world with a little time. So for now, all we have to say is, we told you so.

The other extremely notable up-and-comers and headliners, Scene Of Action, have already been hit by Live 105 as “one of the Bay Area’s ten best new bands.” We have to admit we were skeptical at first, but one live performance later and we’re completely convinced. Celebrating their album release for 20 Minute Hourglass, Scene Of Action retained most of the crowd, if not gained some followers throughout the night. With lead singer Joel’s keyboard skills on loop on his iPod, the indie alt-rock trio charged through their set list on a mission with barely any room to breathe. It was one power nod after the next, with an effortless breeze that only comes across in extremely tight performances and well-guided musicians. Not to mention Ian is probably the best drummer we’ve ever seen live. No, seriously, this guy is that good. Their closing song “Keeping Up” was enough to make us beg for more. All in all, these guys have what it takes to make it big and we look forward to their upward climb and covering them from larger venues in the near future.

When you have been to your fair share of rock shows, being unsurprised can go hand in hand with the night-long ringing in your ears after hours of screaming vocals and pounding drums. It’s the same deal every time, not to say you don’t enjoy it. However, if you find yourself in the middle of the floor, listening intently, when suddenly you have a realization and say to yourself, “Holy crap. Am I dancing?” – then you know something remarkable has happened. A band has moved you without you even knowing it. I’ll have you know, ladies and gentleman, this has only happened to me with Battlehooch.

While the stealthy juggling act of instruments and monster masks is definitely a highlight to their show, antics and voltage are not the only things that comprise Battlehooch. They refrain from cranking out sheer volume and opt for sheer presence. Battlehooch follows the utopian model of musical co-op as opposed to standard rock band format and this is what makes their classic-meets-current sound so believable. You believe it when you see one-man wind section Tom Hurlbut dressed in homage to Hunter S. Thompson with an American flag worn as a cape. You also see it in bassist Grant Goodrich’s hair-buried face as he ironically hides in the corner of the stage despite his 6-foot stature. Looks and energy alone make Battlehooch a 60s time warp but they are for more than a kitchy throwback.

Keep an eye out for the band’s upcoming album Piecechow, the follow-up to 2008’s OOF OWF. If their newest work is anything like the layered and dimensional party music of its predecessor, it may just make Battlehooch one of the most promising bands of SF this year.

You’ve heard his song, “Hot Topic is Not Punk Rock” on Live 105. You’ve seen his hilarious music videos for “Signing Emo” and “Download This Song.” You’ve read his comic strip. MC Lars is everywhere. Blending high-energy beats, poignant lyrics (often targeted at the corporate music regime) and an all-American smile, the king of post-punk laptop rap is somewhat of a pop culture commentator with a knack for making you think while you dance. This is MC Lars.

A gangly, multi-jointed specimen with auburn, mushroom-curly sprouts, Out Hud’s Nic Offer steals attention. Between songs at Bottom of the Hill, eyes gazed at Offer as he brandished a towel and, to the confusion of all, recounted Sesame Street with a story involving Bert and Ernie, a shower and privacy. Polite chuckles scattered. The tale ended with Offer pleading Ernie-like, “Will someone please give me a towel?!!!”

Shotgun synths then fired, a funky bass kicked in, a clap track flickered, Molly Schnick waved magic over her electric cello and the crowd finally understood Offer’s joke. Heads began breaking necks too far, feet pounded the floor and the audience waved as one. All anyone saw were the tops of Out Hud’s collective mops bouncing in unison as each of the five members keeled over their knob-filled instruments, producing beat after beat.

By the time Out Hud had concluded its set, the small venue in Potrero Hill was awash in human funk, sweat and halitosis. And that was a good thing. With its danceable brand of indie rock, dub and electronica, the Brooklyn-transplants (via Sacramento) shook the house and ended what began as a bizarre night of bawdiness.

Opener Madeline Minx teased the crowd (but mostly the men) with a cry of “I’m not sure if I’m going to take off my pants unless you get louder!” The crowd (umm men) obliged and the filmmaker/artist/entertainer/politician teased by stripping to a shiny black bra and undie. I don’t remember her songs.

San Francisco-based Tussle followed and resorted to supreme musicianship to entice. No gimmicks here. With two, sometimes three, drum sets hammering away (with a bass and the ubiquitous knob-filled instrument laying down dark grooves), the band hypnotized with its dub-infused noise that meets somewhere between a tense King Tubby on a krautrock trip and Can without those freakish German wails.

Out Hud, however, had it all: the antics, the virtuosity and everyone in its palm. With the Gumby-like dance moves of Offer and the sweet, confident voices of Schnick and Phyllis Forbes, the band entranced all, shifting between grimy dub, lush disco, hip hop, 80′s electro and house music.

High points included “Dear Mr. Bush, There are Over 100 Words for Shit and Only 1 for Music. Fuck You, Out Hud,” the track revealing Offer’s need to tell his Sesame-Street story. At one point, only mixer Justin Vandervolgen played an instrument, the rest dancing away while Vandervolgen improvised a gloriously dark dub beat. After reaching a drum-pad, deep-base crescendo, Vandervolgen finally let everyone come down. Towels were in need by all.

- Review submitted by B.W. Liou.

A proud hearted lament of the loneliness of life. “Like Eating Glass” the first track on Bloc Party’s first album Silent Alarm reminds me that there’s reason to rejoice even when soaked in the cold wet rain.

Bloc Party played to a packed house at the Bottom of the Hill 3/31. Probably the last time you’ll see them at venue like this. I was just finishing dinner when a friend called and said he had tickets and knew the band. The gods were obviously smiling on me. Not everyone was so lucky. I arrived to see many disappointed fans trying to get in.

They took the stage and rolled the audience from song one. The energy on stage, their flurry of telecaster tones, and unstoppable drumbeats left no one in the audience flat-footed. Although I’m sure their shows back in London get absolutely rowdy, it was great to see even this crowd of SF hipsters getting down.

Most of the reviews on Bloc Party revolve around their layered sound, adding complexity to a genre of music that could get tired if not constantly tweaked for maximum independence. I’m into the lyrics. They give the music its heart. A melancholy rejoice that life is not loneliness and that a gentle rage is best to solve the world’s problems.

- Review submitted by Erik Nordby.

Fresh from their treks in Europe and Japan, The Velvet Teen upstaged The Good Life on March 23rd at Bottom of the Hill. A broken hand kept frontman Judah Nagler from putting his guitar and keyboards through a well-deserved punishment, but the crowd welcomed the very capable Matthew from neighbors in Rock, The Polar Bears. Before The Velvet Teen were even out from behind the merch table, the entire venue was packed well beyond capacity, this being nothing new for the band that hails from Santa Rosa (though Nagler has recently moved to San Francisco).

TVT went to their opening favorite, “Naked Girl” from their compilation disc, The Great Beast February. Matthew’s frantic pace and whirling dervish moves competed with Nagler’s microphone launching and dropping that continued throughout the set. Those new to TVT would not be familiar with Casey Dietz, heir to the drumstool after original drummer, Logan Whitehurst, left the trio with severe illness due to a rare, malignant brain tumor. Dietz’s heavy-handed style is a departure from Whitehurst’s mix of delicate and undulating rhythms. Fans swear he brings a raw edge that compliments the intensely personal vocals and lyrics Nagler offers along with the thick basslines and incredibly passionate backing vocals from Josh Staples. With quotable quips such as, “Human connection is the analog delay of the past,” and “I broke my hand…what the fuck does it matter how I broke it.” Nagler’s drunken stripper dance charms the largest crowd of the night into a flurry of screams and shouts for songs from their latest release, Elysium.

Slight variations of “We Were Bound (To Break the Rules)” and previous album track “Prizefighter” made even the stiffest members of Indie Rock Royalty shuffle and tap their checkered Vans just a little more than usual. The urgency and dirty-sweetness of the edgier songs just confirmed the evolution of the live shows from gloriously near-perfect sets, to near-perfect train wrecks that have such a satisfying grittiness fans are clamoring for time after time.

- Review submitted by Liliana Aranda-Beaulieu.