God Bless the NorthWest.

So, it’s been some week. For starters, I am now gainfully employed, at least by PDX standards. Woo-Hoo! Now I can start to focus my mental energies on the more fulfilling parts of life. Of course, now I have to start spending time and energy doing stuff, like going to work, but it seems that this will be the least soul-crushing regular work I have had for some time. Plus, I can now afford to go to shows. That is crucial concerning my abilities as an observer of music happening in my town.

But really, let us get on to the music, because I am feeling rather self conscious about the long rant of personal detail I went into not long ago to an audience looking for show reviews and band/venue information. But hey, sometimes you just got to say some shit.

One week ago tonight, I accompanied a friend to a little, unpromoted, house show in a basement in the far West portion of Northeast Portland. I have yet to give the necessary geography breakdown, for those readers who are not familiar with Portland as a city in a practical way. But I am not in that space right now, so I am instead going to just get on with details of the event. The house was small and unassuming, and though the basement was really a remarkable acoustic space for loud music, I definitely got the impression that it is not at all a regularly practicing venue. But there was a keg of beer in an ice filled bathtub in the corner and a surprising amount of talent I’d never really heard of.

The band I was drawn to see was Knox Harrington (no relevant info available, sorry), a band that my friend had recorded the demo for. Knox Harrington is an ironic butt-rock band in terms of sound and homoerotic antics, though not so much in personal appearance. They play loud, cheesy hard rock music through expensive half-stacks, but they play it well and with a great sense of humor and performance. The highlight of their set, to me, was a cover of Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer, to which I believe they paid proper respect. Their act seemed far more suited to a dive bar on SE 170^th (for those not familiar with the location, picture anywhere in America that is not metropolitan or distinctively Northwest), or some such place, than it did to a well lit, unsmokey, carpeted basement in inner-Northeast. The music felt like it should have been accompanied by the drunken cheers and breast baring of aging, All-American women; and the beer should have been cheap, foul smelling domestic instead of a microbrew produced less than two miles away. But outside of the mismatch between setting and set, I enjoyed the band and would highly recommend them to any booking agents at outskirt dive bars, or any group of aging rockers seeking some live entertainment to fuel some good old fashioned beer-guzzling, tit-showing fun.

After Knox Harrington’s set, came a totally different kind of musical entertainment. A rap act/collective (I’m not actually sure what to categorize them as) by the name of Salmon River Project (www.myspace.com/salmonriverproject) teamed up with an unnamed, but very talented jazz-funk quartet. The result was a long running freestyle jam, reminiscent of early and mid 90’s Beastie Boys instrumentals, but with rap styling’s which made me think of Zach de la Rocha. Granted, I was fairly drunk from the potent contents of cooled keg, and stoned from the continuously circulating joints, but I must say that I could not help but get down to this act. When I inquired as to the title of the band, I was informed that it wasn’t really a band. The group had never played together before that very performance. Wow! If they can recreate that energy, refine their sound a bit and perhaps acquire a more enticing name, I think they could totally be one of those bands to ride the party circuit to great deal of notoriety, and possibly even wealth. Hippies and stoners across America would cough back into their bongs if they caught a set like that in their basement, living room or backyard.

Yeah, it was a weirdly paired evening in a most unexpected setting, for sure. But it had been a good long while since I had gone to a show and it was just a jumble of talent ranging through a vast array of taste demographics (if not so much cultural ones). Things get pigeonholed very easily in Portland. Because there are just so many different bands in any given style/genre, it easy to book a whole show for one taste. It’s not to say that in a smaller community, such as Olympia, that you don’t get a lot of hand picked nights with a continuous sound, but you also get a lot of grab bag nights where friends’ bands’ are just called in randomly to fill the bill. You really get exposed to a lot of different shit that way.

The next show I went to was the previously mentioned (see my last two posts) Explodeintocolors show. Dekum Manor, and the show I witnessed inside are the most picturesque Northwest things I could imagine. I was in a house I’d never been to, seeing bands I’d never heard, surrounded, primarily, by people I’d never met. But I can tell you that I’d been there and done that more times than I can count. It was like I had been transported back to my early 20’s. That’s not to say the music inside was all unoriginal and done-before however. Explodeintocolors really surprised me with their set. It was an interesting, well crafted, expertly played set of original music. That didn’t surprise me one bit. What surprised me was the nature of the sound itself. I went in expecting a huge sound, where every beat was filled with more beats and twisting harmonics than a person can really process, though with an uncanny pop-sensibility to match its uber-arty veneer. For that is really the only common ground that I tend to find in the projects and playing of guitarist Claudia Meza and drummer Lisa Schonberg. I don’t know much about the third member, Heather Treadway, except that she is apparently a local fashion designer under the name Paper Doll. The last part of my expectations about the set were definitely fulfilled. However, I was amazed at the relatively stripped down nature of the sound. I say relatively because, don’t get me wrong, it was fairly busy stuff indeed. But in truth, there was an almost garagy touch to the aethstetic. Certainly good stuff, but not at all what I expected. I imagine there was a bit of spill over in influence from some more recent projects these ladies have been involved in.

I saw another band’s set that night at Dekum Manor, but honestly, I don’t know who it was. I know it wasn’t Fist Fite (www.myspace.com/fistfitefistfite) because I saw them drinking in the kitchen when the other band was playing. Besides, I am pretty sure I would recognize their sound, even if I’m not that familiar with their music. Whoever they were, they had a tight set and a fairly grooving garage-pop sound. But my partner in misadventure and myself had a set to check out elsewhere that night.

π-Rem (433 NW 4th Avenue*) is a little underground (literally) club in what I guess is Chinatown. Whatever the case, it is by the train station and has gone through a cycle of names of late, coming back eventually to the first name that I knew it by. The ambiance is generally enjoyable, with comfy furniture and well placed lighting of appropriate brightness for such a setting. The music is often pretty good, always at least decent, in my experience. I think that it is perhaps a club specifically for electronic music, for I haven’t seen anything else there ever. π-Rem’s biggest problem, as far as I can tell, is that they rarely, if ever, pack the house with sufficient people to sustain requisite energy for a hot dance floor. There could be numerous reasons for this. One might be the location, it is certainly not the kind of place one is likely to just stumble into. One could be that the electronic music scene in this town is just not big enough to support the amount of venues there are for it. My personal theory has to do more with drink selection. π-Rem, thus far has opted for an extensive selection of high-end, high alcohol content (which is listed on the menu next to price and size of bottle) primarily imported (Belgium, etc.) beers, and a few wines rather than a full liquor bar. A tasteful choice to be sure, and one that almost certainly makes life quite a bit easier for the bar staff, especially in terms of the type of clientele and how drunk they are likely to get. However, I believe it probably hurts their business as a venue. People, in my experience, when going out to see music, tend to want either the non-filling, high alcohol content of liquor drinks, or the cheap, drink all-night eir business as a venue. y are likely to get. asier for ly imported (Belgium, etc.) for itqualities of domestic and lower end microbrew beers. $9 for 12 oz. of 9% beer is not really a shake your shit till the DJ runs out of steam tonic. None the less, on the third Saturday of every month, Zentz (again, I could find no info), one of the better techno DJs to spin regularly in this town, has a set at π-Rem. As is often the case, a quorum was not met on the dance floor, and thus the energy was generally well below the heat of the set. I was turned onto Zentz when he subbed for a sick M-Quiet one night at Kulturszene. However, in spite of the disappointing turnout for his set, there were cues pointing to a possibly brighter future for this talented spinmeister. Several faces, including other prominent local DJs, that I presume to be far more in the know concerning this aspect of Portland culture than myself, made appearances at π-Rem on Saturday. You’d have to be dead to deny the heat of Zentz set, though he does not make himself a slave to the beat. He takes it where ever he feels like taking it, but it seems to work for him. Whatever the case, perhaps these new faces at this site are just the leaders of a new train of fan base. Let’s hope, because I’d hate to see a talented DJ stop spinning his night because no one ever showed.

Last night was a surprise kicker to finish off the long week. I got off work at 11 PM, and saw that I’d missed a call from my social companion extraordinaire. As it turned out, there was a sold out show at Holocene (1001 SE Morrison Street), and my boy had checked out the music, approved and believed that despite the sold out status we could get in, and that due to the sold out status we could do it on the cheap. I guess that’s just how we roll, because we actually run that play fairly often, and it tends to work. The difference this time, was that I’d never heard of the band and had no idea the show was going on. Holocene is not a small place, and selling it out on a Monday night is no small feet. The band we went to see was Phosphorescent (www.myspace.com/phosphorescent), a band from Brooklyn. As it happens, Phosphorescent had a break down of vehicular transport in the distant city of San Francisco, and just the lead singer Matthew Houck was present to perform his set. So I can’t speak to the quality of the band, but for having been stripped of all but the bare essentials, Mr. Houck certainly gave an enthralling performance. His raspy, folky vocals were nothing new to me stylistically, and his songwriting seemed familiar. But he played with a passion and poise that a great deal of like performers lack. I was particularly moved by his rendition of Dire Straits So Far Away From Me, and I was most impressed by his creative use of vocal harmonies and a loop pedal to create a growing chorus of one, which stood as a towering wall of quite musical sound.

Well, that’s about all that I have to report for this week. I can’t think of any must see shows in coming to town, except to say that I’d really LOVE to check out Bruce Springsteen’s set when he come here in the very near future. I don’t know if that is going to be a realistic possibility for me though. Well, until next I have something to report, later.

_{*{I think, their front door has moved, so I don’t know if the address is still accurate, because the entrance is no longer on 4th}}

Wow!

OK, so last night I opted out of the world, excepting old friends and classic films on VHS. The night before, however, I spent on the outskirts of a foreign land. And on this particular night, it was a populated place indeed.

I don’t know anything about electronic music. Well, that’s not entirely true; I have a vague knowledge as to how it is produced, the slightest notion what constitutes markers in the gradation between its various genres and subcategories and have amassed a short list of names which I associate with it. Locally, the name that tops that list is M. Quiet.

2½ years ago, if you told me I would actually start going to clubs and paying to hear DJs’ sets, I would have laughed at you. As a man who just finished a several year stretch as an unpaid radio DJ and recording engineer, who saw live music at least once week and rarely paid for it, the concept of paying to get into a loud room to hear someone spin records was just absurd. If you’d told me a year ago, I would not have been so quick to judge, but I still would have had a hard time realistically picturing it. About six months ago, I found myself trying to climb my way out of some dark and disappointing times, and realized that I needed some manner of visceral diversion from certain habits which I found to be weighing me down. A good friend of mine was an old fan of electronic music, having been party to the Northwest rave scene in the early 90’s. He had decided to reacquaint with the genre and scene after a long hiatus. Being Aquarian of age, if nothing else, I possess the foresight to know that much of the future of the arts will exist primarily in the digital realm, and one must grasp the fundamentals of what these changes will mean, if one hopes to maintain cultural and artistic relevance. Music has been at the forefront of this wave of change. It occurred to me that the fortuitousness of my being around when my friend decided to plunge back into a world I was intrigued by but knew little about was perhaps just the opportunity to educate myself and simultaneously end a long stint of self imposed isolation. Quickly I learned that when the undeniable dance-ability of a good set met with the heat and energy produced once critical mass was achieved on the dance floor, I had the very visceral distraction I was much in need of; need is not a word I like to use lightly. Well that is plenty about my little journey of self discovery, let us examine how the places it has led me affect my ability to “report” on the state of the arts in Portland.

Kulturszene (www.myspace.com/kulturszene) is, as far as I can tell, a semi-regularly occurring showcase of talent, hosted by 31 Avas (www.myspace.com/31avas) and M. Quiet (www.myspace.com/matthewquiet) at Branx (320 SE 2^nd Avenue). In the six months or so that I have been patronizing clubs for the purpose of hearing electronic music and DJs of electronic music I would say the single most regularly attended night or event for me has been Kulterszene. The music, I am told, can generally be classified as “minimal”; that’s not the first adjective I’d use to describe it, but as I said, I know very little about electronic music. However, I have been around music for the whole of my adult life, and I can tell when something is picking up momentum. Last night’s headline DJ was Arohan (www.myspace.com/arohanpdx), a local face I certainly recognize, but whose set I had only heard once before. Well I don’t know if it was his personal fan base, or just the word getting out about Kulturszene, but Friday, February 8^th, 2008 was hot. Just about any face I could recognize from this pocket of culture was present, and many, many more. Branx is not a big club; being the back entrance/downstairs of Rotture (315 SE 3^rd Avenue), or maybe vice-versa. It was all Loveland when I moved to this town. Anyways, the stripped down interior and no frills furnishing tend to blend easily with the jeans and hoodie aesthetic so popular in the Portland arts culture. Friday, however, I thought I saw a hint of glamour standing out against the bare brick walls and steel support beams. It’s possible that this was just an influx of whatever is fashionable in more glamorous places, but something tells me that maybe Portland is starting find a polished finish to accompany the matte one on its underground.

The opening set, five record tradeoffs between 31 Avas and M. Quiet, which I believe is a fairly common Kulturszene practice, warmed up the dance floor and built the tension necessary for the climax to come. Curiosity about another facet of Portland lead my companion in potential mischief, mayhem and other forms of cultural interloping and I to depart briefly from the affair. A free show at Someday Lounge (125 NW 5^th Avenue) drew our attention because: a.) we had yet to check out the venue, & b.) it was free, which does not seem to be SOP at this establishment. We caught about 3 full songs by a band called Chores (www.myspace.com/choresmusic), a rock quartet in the psychedelic/garage tradition. I’d never heard of them, but they were a tight ensemble who clearly took their art seriously, but without an air of pretense. It seemed that with steady gigging and properly focused marketing, they could probably build a solid fan base. My companion and I concurred that they would be excellently matched for a show with Glass Elevator. The venue itself felt to me like an Old Town answer to the Doug Fir (830 E Burnside St), only with the focus being on the venue and no isolated bar section. I lacked the funds for proper patronization, and thus cannot comment on the drinks’ price or quality nor really report on the service of the staff. I’ll say it was a comfy joint, and if the right act came and the cover was one I could afford, I see no hard/fast reason to object to attending events there.

Upon returning to Branx, Arohan was spinning his set, and the place was throbbing. The dance floor was well beyond the quorum of active bodies for an energetic set, people were generally getting down and more were arriving by the minute. I’d say the peak of the night was around the end of Arohan’s set and the beginning of the solo M. Quiet set which followed. The crowd was in deep in thrall to the DJs’ whim, and the field of energy created by the unified throng of dancers was absolutely rhapsodic. Though, as the night waned, so did the population of the dance floor, M. Quiet kept bumping out hot beats, and people kept grooving till the club staff made the universally acknowledged sign of “get the fuck out, we want to go home”, which is the turning on of bright, overhead (in the case of Branx, fluorescent) lights.

I may not know much about this slice of culture, but I tend to be able to intuitively track trends, and I definitely have watched little things grow and explode a time or two in Northwest music. It looks like something might actually be taking shape to hold down a newly established scene in PDX. The influx of people to Kulturszene and other clearly related events over the last several months, and even weeks, certainly does point towards exponential growth. Well, we shall see. My readers shall accompany me on my own explorations of new territory. It’s fun actually, in both an exciting and disconcerting way. I can’t recall the last time I was regularly exposed to some subcultural movement, but still remained almost entirely outside on a social level.

Anyways, soon I must away, for several older strains of Olympia and Portland music culture have converged, and tonight they are playing at my favorite Westside venue: Valentines (232 SW Ankeny St). A cute, intimate little art bar with tasty, original drink items, good taste in music for both playing and booking (from what I’ve heard), and some incredibly enchanting bar staff. Dim Rocket Delta (www.myspace.com/dimrocketdelta) a Portland band, in the punk tradition as far as I can tell, comprised of longtime contributors to the Olympia music scene, is kicking off their West coast tour with Olympia act GoGo Simba (www.myspace.com/gogosimba) tonight. I can’t claim to be particularly familiar with either act, but I have heard some recordings of DRD, and was a well versed fan of previous work by some of its members. Whatever the case, it should be educational. I will go into more detail on the matter with my next post. Until then…