Looking at the mastheads of the rags and blogs that have weighed in on the band’s sophomore album, “Where the Messengers Meet,” one would assume [...]]]>

In the world of marketing, it’s said that no press is bad press. Seattle’s Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band is testing that truism in its own, indie-rock way.

Looking at the mastheads of the rags and blogs that have weighed in on the band’s sophomore album, “Where the Messengers Meet,” one would assume MSHVB is a new darling of the indie music world. Pitchfork weighed in, as did Paste, Spin, and the Onion A.V. Club.

Not bad for a five-piece band signed to Dead Oceans, a small Indiana-based label.

Or is it?

“It’s almost like MSHVB are going out of their way to go unnoticed, as there’s just so little to grab onto here, in terms of either hooks or texture,” snarled critic Ian Cohen of Pitchfork. “It’s a punishingly monochromatic listen.”

Ditto, said the Onion A.V. Club.

“Frankly, a number of these songs could be B-sides from Cursive’s emo-chestral post-hardcore monument ‘The Ugly Organ,’” wrote critic Chris Martins. “At this rate, MSHVB will be onto Trail Of Dead’s ‘Source Tags And Codes’ by late 2011.” Even for those of us unfamiliar with the obscure touchstones, the message is clear: this stuff kinda sucks.

So why all the press, if the band isn’t any good?

Well, for one thing, MSHVB does have a certain claim to fame – or, at least, to pressworthy intrigue.

Back before anyone had ever heard a single recording by the band, its members published a series of unabashedly awful infomercials on Youtube, warning about the dangers of homeostasis, boredom, and other bland topics.

It was a clever trick, building an audience eager to hear what the band was actually about while giving music writers an easy angle on which to hang a story.

Unfortunately, it didn’t guarantee a good story.

The main rap on MSHVB is that their sound is derivative. It’s hard to take issue with that assessment when listening to tunes like “Albatross Albatross Albatross,” which careens through disjointed moments of math-rock, Franz Ferdinand-esque jangle-disco, and a sweeping, synth-soaked sequence that sounds like a mashup of Granddaddy and Modest Mouse, capped off with a little AC/DC flourish at the end.

Albatross, Albatross, Albatross

Still, it’s hard to grok why the band has become a punching bag in a realm where originality isn’t exactly rampant. How many bands sound somewhat like Modest Mouse these days? There are other Seattle-area acts with a strikingly similar sound to these guys – I’m thinking Minus the Bear and, to a lesser extent, Death Cab for Cutie here – who get all kinds of critical plaudits.

Music is always derivative. The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin brazenly borrowed elements of southern blues. George Frideric Handel raided his own music – often verbatim — every time he sat down with a pen. This is the only age in western history when performing musicians have been expected to focus on their own, “original” songs.

Unfortunately, I think what all this MSHVB-bashing ultimately reflects is the way in which the media tends to follow its own lead. One hipster-focused magazine writes about a new band; soon enough, they all do.

And – here’s the irony I’ve been aiming for – they all tend to fall in line with a consensus of their own making.

Their opinions, in other words, are derivative.

Exceptions abound, of course. And I can’t claim immunity myself.

But I’ll say this: MSHVB sounds neither more nor less derivative than plenty of awesome bands. They have great energy. And if you don’t like what they’re playing, give them ten or fifteen seconds; they’ll be off on something different quick enough. Pitchfork dismissed it as “blog-rock,” a mushy and now oft-derided label of the mid-aughts; but I’d call it Twitter rock: brash, short-attention-span music that is mostly insubstantial yet full of self-importance.

In short, it’s the kind of stuff that will surely go over well in the crowded, party-ready context of tonight’s KBGA End-of-Thon celebration at the Badlander and Palace complex. Joining the band for tonight’s two-stage show will be Portland’s Hosannas, locals the Magpies and King Elephant, and djs Eskmo, Kris Moon and Logisticalone.

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Perhaps not [...]]]>

Last week, I revealed my longtime dislike for the sound of saxophones. Since then, I’ve realized I’m hardly alone. There is a Facebook group devoted to the anti-sax “cause,” and a lovely song by Sean Na Na, and a pretty awesome tee-shirt…It seems “I hate saxophones” almost qualifies as a meme.

Perhaps not surprisingly, a handful of local saxophonists responded negatively to the column – one in private email; two in a joint letter to the editor of the Missoulian.

As is customary for matters covered in the paper, I’ll let that back-and-forth stand on its own, with one minor clarification: I’m right and they’re wrong.

Kidding!

But I do think the conversation reflects two broader points that are near and dear to my heart. And if you’ll hear me out, I promise a fun little treat at the end!

First is the question of bias in the media. Traditionally, it has been held by both ethicists and the general public that newspaper reporters should seek to discard bias when reporting the news. That seemed to be the argument of the letter writers.

Here’s the thing: Every reporter has his or her biases, whether acknowledged or not. Would readers rather know those biases; or be left to guess them? I tend to think the former. I know my views on that question don’t mesh with what most journalism professors would tell you. But the popularity of talk radio, Fox News and blogs would seem to support my view, at least in the eyes of some.

There is much more to explore on that subject, and healthy debate to be had; but in this context it actually seems kind of moot, for a more basic reason: Nickell’s Bag is a column (and a blog), not “straight” reportage. The reason that my picture runs with the column in the paper is to emphasize that there is some individual personality and, yes, bias to these musings.

Secondly, when talking with people about music, I often hear the refrain, “I like all kinds of music.” Here’s a bold assertion based on little beyond my own bias: I tend to think that people who say that don’t really care deeply about any music.

It is a rickety thesis, to be sure. Nobody that I’ve found has ever attempted a scientific examination of the issue. My only “proof” is a logical leap of faith from another, more closely studied realm of our culture: politics.

Pollsters will tell you that truly “independent” voters – those who don’t affiliate themselves with a particular party – tend to be the least likely to actually vote in elections, because they are simply less engaged and passionate about political discourse.

Music isn’t politics, of course. Or is it? Maybe we should ask the Dixie Chicks…

In my work, it’s important that I try to comprehend what people value in different types of music, and to help guide the right audience to the right music when I can. Same with other forms of art and entertainment.

But if I didn’t know where I stood on the map of musical tastes, I probably wouldn’t be much of a guide.

Okay, enough being serious. I do think the saxophone can serve important purposes, actually. Just watch this video!

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It is not uncommon for people to feel ready to be rid of holiday-themed music and entertainment by the time Santa flies through town. But as December morphed into January of this new year, Rebecca Schaffer found herself still preparing for [...]]]>

(See show details at bottom of post for updated information about schedule)

It is not uncommon for people to feel ready to be rid of holiday-themed music and entertainment by the time Santa flies through town. But as December morphed into January of this new year, Rebecca Schaffer found herself still preparing for the premiere of a new play in which Christmas figures prominently.

Before you chalk up the upcoming opening of “Ringing Out” as just a late arrival to the holiday party, however, know this: This feast of the senses won’t taste anything like the traditional turkey.

“Christmas is an important part of the play; but at the same time, I don’t think it’s really about Christmas,” said Schaffer, who directs the upcoming production of local playwright Josh Wagner’s script, at the Crystal Theatre. “Christmas is kind of a catalyst that serves as an instigator of what happens. But ‘A Christmas Carol’ this is not.”

If anything, “Ringing Out” will more likely appeal more to fans of post-apocalyptic speculative fiction.

“’Ringing Out’ began as my attempt to write a new Christmas story,” explained Josh Wagner, a local playwright who also recently released his second novel, “Smashing Laptops.” “As the script began to develop I realized it would be more about people and less about Christmas…We set the story after the end of the world, as dark and bleak as it gets. ‘Ringing Out’ is about how things fall apart, and how new traditions can spring out the ashes.”

The story takes place in a bunker that Rick, a survivalist who predicted the demise of society, built as a safe haven for his wife, Kendra, and a young girl, Mandolin, whom they rescued from the post-apocolyptic destruction. Set 15 years after the trio descended underground, the play centers around Mandolin’s search for a memory — something she remembers as Christmas.

Then again, the play might best appeal to Missoula’s epicurean set. That’s because the play was written and produced in collaboration with the Silk Road, the tapas restaurant that sits adjacent to the Crystal.

During breaks in the on-stage action, audience members at two of the four performances will be served a three-course meal designed by Silk Road chef Abe Risho.

First comes pork loin slow-roasted with Chinese Five-Spice, layered with scalloped yams au gratin & roasted honeycrisp apples, topped with candied pecans. Next on the plate: pheasant rubbed with Advieh and braised with pomegranate-walnut sauce, served with golden rice tadiq and pickled grapes. The meal finishes house-baked cake soaked with rum and drizzled with dulce de leche.

“Ringing Out” is the second such collaboration between the Silk Road, Wagner and Schaffer. In late 2010, the same forces collaborated on “Salep and Silk,” a dinner-theatre production that traced the story of two men as they carried on an old tradition, meeting along the Silk Road between their respective homes in Turkey and China.

While the geographical connections between food and drama aren’t as tight in “Ringing Out,” Schaffer said that the new play still fits nicely into the format.

“The deepest connection in the play is the way that all four characters come together over food,” she said. “A really important point in the story is when this outside character, who is known just as the Stranger, brings down a pheasant into the bunker as a peace offering. They all start to connect and work things out over that.”

“Ringing Out” is actually the second locally written, apocalypse-themed play in as many months to premiere in Missoula.

In December, local singer-songwriter Amy Martin presented a staged reading of the first act of an original musical, “Reserve and Green,” about a group of people who survived global catastrophe by holing up for 40 years in a Walmart.

Schaffer said she figures the parallel focus of the two productions isn’t pure coincidence.

“I feel like all of this discussion and joking and pop culture surrounding the apocalypse is part of this deeper realization that we’re going very far in this technologically integrated direction; and I feel like – as catastrophic as it seems on the surface – the focus on apocalypse is about that dream of going back to the basics,” she said. “What is it to reconnect with the earth and nature and the fundamental human relationships beyond the machine? In our modern society, we’re lacking that. So the imagination of the apocalypse is the imagination of the purging of those things that are keeping us from reconnecting to our more human nature.”

A single dinner theatre performance of “Ringing Out” takes place January 17 at 6:30 p.m. at the Crystal Theatre. Tickets are $75, gratuity included. Additional performances of the play, minus the meal, take place Jan. 18, 19 & 20 at 7:30 p.m. Tickets to those performances are $13 in advance (available at the Bridge Pizza or online at www.ringingout.com), or $15 at the door. Call 241.8209 for more information.

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Oh, I’ve heard the squawk-back: The sax is the most expressive of the woodwind instruments, the closest mechanical approximation of the [...]]]>

Every true music-lover has an indefensible pet-peeve, and this is probably my biggest one: There isn’t a song in the world so beautiful that it can’t be ruined by a little saxophone.

Oh, I’ve heard the squawk-back: The sax is the most expressive of the woodwind instruments, the closest mechanical approximation of the singing voice, yada yada. I suppose I could name a couple of sax-soaked tunes that don’t annoy the crap out of me (Coleman Hawkins’ “April in Paris” springs to mind). But I can name ten times as many songs that might have been bearable if the reedman had only called in sick. (I’m apparently not the only one who feels this way.)

It is for that reason that I find a certain double-negative allure to Rob Verdi’s upcoming concert at the Ronan Performing Arts Center, next Thursday, Jan. 18.

Titled “Saxophobia,” the concert figures either to be my worst nightmare or best proof of bias.

A longtime member of the Side Street Strutters, a Dixieland jazz band that appears weekly at Disneyland in Los Angeles, Verdi has entertained tens of thousands of visitors to the park since 1985. Along the way, the group won first place at the International Association of Jazz Educators Collegiate Dixieland Competition and the Breda International Jazz Festival Competition.

Outside that band, Verdi has made a name for himself through his one-man show, which highlights his bizarre collection of some of the most unusual saxophones ever made.

That’s where the appeal lies, in my eyes at least. I’m pretty sure he can’t convince me to love the sound of a tenor sax; but I’m certainly intrigued to hear him honk on his six-and-a-half-foot tall contrabass sax – basically a tuba with a single-reed mouthpiece. Ditto that teeny-weeny “sopranino” sax, an instrument that could easily be confused with a child’s toy.

Altogether, Verdi’s collection numbers more than 100 instruments. Surely, I figure, one or two of them will not sound like an ill goat.

(The National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences would seem to agree: in 2009, “Saxophobia” was nominated for a regional Emmy in the category of Instructional Media.)

Verdi will be joined in his performance by a band of Ronan High School music students under the direction of Alicia Lipscomb. They’ll chart their way through some classic sax showcases, including “Over The Rainbow,” “How High The Moon,” “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” and “Stardust.”

Rob Verdi presents “Saxophobia” at the Ronan Performing Arts Center on Thursday, Jan. 18, at 7:30 p.m. Single tickets are available for $12 ($14 at the door).  Anyone 18 or under is admitted free, thanks to the Youth Home, but children 11 and under need to be accompanied by a ticket-holding adult. Tickets are available in advance from Fiddle Sticks School of Music on 5th, or Shannon Nunlist Physical Therapy on Main St. in Polson, or from True Value Hardware on Hwy 93 in Ronan.  Concertgoers can also get tickets by emailing cmc@ronan.net or calling 800 823 4386.

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Otherwise, this might happen.

Anyone who knows the music of Mahler [...]]]>

I know that accidents sometimes happen, but really. If you’re gonna spend the exorbitant money necessary to get into a concert by the New York Philharmonic, at least turn off your cellphone. Or, at least, turn it off after the first ring.

Otherwise, this might happen.

Anyone who knows the music of Mahler knows that there could hardly be a worse time for this to happen. If you don’t know what I mean, here’s a taste.

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Witness the one-sentence pitch:

“Deleted Scenes are an interesting DC-based quartet with occupations outside of the band ranging from medical research to stop severe bleeding to teaching English as a second language.”

Okay, forget that [...]]]>

I received a rather baffling press release recently, about a show coming up next week at the Badlander.

Witness the one-sentence pitch:

“Deleted Scenes are an interesting DC-based quartet with occupations outside of the band ranging from medical research to stop severe bleeding to teaching English as a second language.”

Okay, forget that band names are singular rather than plural, thus demanding is rather than are. And let’s try not to get caught up in whether that list includes two professions or three (is “stop severe bleeding” a job?).

Here is the thing that really gets me: Is this band so musically uninteresting that their main appeal is the stuff they do when they’re not on stage?

Hardly, it turns out.

Tunes like “Bedbedbedbedbed,” with its dreamy, glitchy sing-song echo-chamber, typify the band’s dopey appeal. Singer Dan Scheuerman never gets too excited about anything, even as he croons, “you are an immaculate girl” over an incessant double-bass-drum rhythm. Meantime, his bandmates chime and peck at their instruments only enough to keep the waking dream from disintegrating into snoring slumber.

Deleted Scenes might have a song called “The Days of Adderall,” but do not become confused: This is hardly a focusing stimulant. More like a Cure song heard through an opium haze.

Despite the off-base PR, the band has been noticed by the likes of NPR, Spin, and Pitchfork, all of which have lauded Deleted Scenes’ recently released, sophomore album, “Young People’s Church of the Air.”

So go stop your severe bleeding – er, rather, go see Deleted Scenes when they play the Badlander next Tuesday, Jan. 17.

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