Thursday MPMF: Score!

[NOTE: All kinds of cool MPMF photos and multi-media are here.]

I started the evening off with local girl-group Vanity Crash. It’s important to give young bands feedback, so here goes: energy and enthusiasm +10; guitar tone -5; stretching the album tracks to make them more interesting live +5; new songs show artistic development +5; flubbed drum fill -5; drummer mouths “Fuck!” and nails the rest of the song, +5. Total Rock Score: +15

Next it was off to Jardin to see Souse, who were stuck in a tiny tent in the courtyard area. Not only was it small, but all the side flaps were down, so it was roasting in there. I mean, the Jazz improv was hot, but since the place was a sauna I could only hang for two songs (one old, one new, both excellent). If they’re going to keep this configuration, they should at least hand out peyote buttons outside the sweat tent so the audience members can get in touch with their spirit guide. 

Since almost all of the bands I wrote about being “repeat performers” last year did not return (joke’s on me, but The Wrenfields still have a perfect attendance record!), I need to do some on-the-fly substitutions. Tonight was a good start.

Previously, my MPMF “musical crush” was the lovely and talented Ms. Ellen Cherry. This year, it looks like Ann Driscoll is filling those shoes. She had me and the rest of the audience at Pizza Bar wrapped around her little finger, telling us personal stories, song backgrounds and making us sing along. Her strum-heavy style matches the insistent vocals, and while both are melodic, this material is no snooze-fest.

Speaking of Pizza Bar, it just doesn’t seem right that a place with so many neon beer signs would be serving only soft drinks. I asked if Moerlein made an OTR Cola — no dice. Should have asked about Hudy DeSprite.

A quick peak in Cue revealed Elliot Ruther and his band Funking around. Between breaking strings and taking names, they managed an inspired rendition or “Rock & Roll Conceived.” Ruther told me later that bassist Joel Cotton had two other gigs that night — one as a guitarist and another as a keyboard player.

When I showed up at InkTank, MPMF volunteer Erin Flanagan was finishing a set of lovely solo-acoustic Chick Folk. According to stage manager Josh Hagen, The Audiologues no-showed, and when Erin heard this news on her headset she ran to her car, grabbed her guitar and showed up ready to fill the last minute vacancy. Good thing, because now that Dave Purcell left town, Pike 27 can’t come to the rescue any more.

Next up was what will likely be one of the highlights of the whole festival. Columbus’ The Receiver captivated the crowd with their two-man Radiohead meets Sigur Ros extravaganza. The Cooper brothers played live drums and bass along to prerecorded keyboards/guitar/misc. tracks. I thought it was an interesting choice for Casey to play bass, but an excellent one, as it really gave the music more of an organic punch than if he had played keys live instead.

Over at The Exchange, NYC’s The Teenage Prayers were staging a Rock Revival. These guys filled the space in my heart left vacant by conspicuous non-repeaters The Rockwells. Upon close inspection, TTP’s music has a Punk simplicity, but the soulful vocal howling and tasteful use of twang push their music into a different realm. The frontman didn’t seem to mind that his Strat had a broken D string, and the drummer was getting by with one cymbal. No hi-hat, no ride, no splashes; just beating the hell out of one 18-inch crash.  I think if the power had gone out, they would have put on just as good a show.       

Speaking of power outages ... I hadn’t originally planned to see Oxymoronotron, but when I got a look at their piles of Junkyard Wars-inspired gear earlier in the evening I vowed to return. I particularly wanted to see their robotic drummer (a mountain of percussion, wires, lights and pneumatics with drum sticks poking out every which way) in action. The band managed a dramatic entrance (in matching costumes) and had some humorous video clips, but they were soon plagued by equipment failures. During the third “song,” all of the stage power went out, prompting one of them to quip, “If we had a dollar for every blown fuse, we wouldn’t be here.” Huh? All in all, they get high marks for concept but fall short in the realization department. 

Attendance was decent everywhere I visited tonight (besting most Thursdays I’ve seen), although the big open space in Cue made it seem empty by comparison. The sparse-looking crowd didn’t bother Louisville’s Cabin, who are much more aggressive in a live setting. Noah Hewett-Ball’s voice, however, remains as beautiful as on their recordings, a fact that inspired much faux resentment from a certain MPMF co-founder.

Well, time to go home I guess. No, wait! The Poison Room had 1 a.m. slots! Milwaukee’s old-school Metalists Dark Shift were just getting started when I got there. Here’s a summary: awesome soloing +10; drummer actually had two bass drums +5; cheesy “wireless walks” -5; front man wearing his own band’s shirt -10; killer instrumental +10; it was titled “Shock and Awe” -5; reaching over the top of the fret board +5; both guitarists and the bass player reaching over the top of their fret boards like synchronized shredders +10. Total Rock Score: +20

— Ezra Waller