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Murder!
by Cripsy Duck 1-15-01
(printed in C-VILLE Vol.13, No. 4)
STABLE ROOTS
KATHRYN CAINE
IN TENEBRIS
WONDERBAND
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1/11/01 MURDER! A Cheshire smile slowly overtook me as I cooly bore witness to the Stable Roots' rhythmic Rastafarian sooth from my post at the back of the Outback Lodge. Somebody sidled up to mention that members of Culture-- the internationally celebrated reggae crew propped up, of late, by Stable Roots' founding keyboardist Christopher "Peanut" Whitley-- were reinforcing the night's groove. Another friend intimated that members of the Awareness Art Ensemble were also in the house. But all I knew was that the Roots never sounded so stable. Two organs in a roots posse-- sublime! In roots reggae, redundancy is king. Two keyboards-- two or three percussionists-- two or three guitars-- three or four vocalists. The rhythm section's parts are ideally very percussive, relaxed and precise, and a group of players tuned to each other can weave a rich rub-a-dub tapestry by individually dropping out for short stretches and then rejoining the groove. It's a gag that gets me every time: band jams along-- chorus comes-- "Stir it up-- little darling, oh.." -- but the second time they repeat the lyric, the bass player and drummer stop for eight beats (or 16, or 32...)-- when they "step back in" on the next repitition, the energy-- especially among the dancers-- is noticeably redoubled. Stable Roots were chewing up the dub nicely with the aid of an additional percussionist and a second keyboardist/frontman who sang like a sage and worked his organ relentlessly. The vibe was mighty indeed as they rolled through reggae classics potent like a crop of island sensi. There is good reason that the band's members frequently back reggae legends like the Itals, Culture, and the Abyssinians on their tours. As we used to irreverently jest back in the day: "I and I not from Kingston... I and I not from Trinidad... I and I from Harrisonburg, mon."
1/13/01 The following night I was back at the Outback Lodge, checking out Kathryn Caine's americana rock and what turned out to be an old-school psychedelic smorgasborg. Kathryn normally performs and records with half of Indecision's original line-up: drummer Craig Dougald and guitarist Aaron Evans, as well as Stuart Holme, former bass player for '80's frat-ska power trio the Cows. But last Saturday they were joined by their "producer," Indecision's other original guitarist, David Ibbeken, who took over rhythm parts Caine normally plays herself-- freeing her to sing more... better and stuff. It was vaguely reminiscent of a toned-down Indecision show with a great female vocalist and a diferent bass player. A couple two-chord jam spaces even verged suspiciously on reprises of Indecision's regional hit "Just A Little Bit." When Fritz Berry, former vocalist/percussionist for Echo's Farm, another regional rock staple of the period, joined the group onstage with his harmonica, I almost felt like I was 19 again, drinking Mad Dog wine with Cheese Puff chasers and hunting desparately for crappy pot off of Rugby Road. Those were the days. Meanwhile, over at Tokyo Rose...
... a buzz was building for a set by In Tenebris. You know how they say "the devil takes care of his own?" Well-- around here at least-- so do goths. In Tenebris sounded pretty fun to me, with some stuff even the not-so-funereal might be inclined to enjoy. A hip sequencer/bass/guitar/vocal gothic combo composed of members of Unit F and the Riot Act, and fronted by a lovely pixie vocalist, they're taking the dark electronic sceptre held aloft by Charlottes-goth standard bearers Bella Morte and parading it about in a somewhat happier, dreamy kind of dark-pop keyboard way. (Make sense?) I hear they're releasing a CD. Any day now. Watch out! Zoom I went to Starr Hill to catch the Wonderband in a venue other than Michael's Bistro-- one with a stage and a real P.A. and stuff. I think this was the first time I've heard of them playing outside of the Bistro. Big news.
Of course it was cool. Of course Houston Ross was singing again like back in the old Plutonium days. Of course they shredded like madmen, proving once again the majestic intensity of their funky underdog jam tornado. Of course they dragged us through another tired cover of "Little Wing." (I can do without covers of "Little Wing.") Of course everything else still rocks socks and occasionally shocks. Of course. Where were you?
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