Three Imaginary Girls - Graceland

Our top 10 'What we did at that great indie-rock show in 100 words or less' list

three imaginary girls — Sun, 28 Jan 2007 05:17:53 +0000

19 Apr 2003

"The Natural History, the French Kicks, Bettie Serveert, the Sights, the Datsuns, Caesars, the Soundtrack of Our Lives, Aerogramme, the Delgados, {phew} April 2003"

We were insane. But how could we say no? All these bands were from out-of-town — who knows when we would have gotten another chance to see them? So we crammed in all the shows; we saw, we stopped sleeping, and now, when faced with the daunting task of writing about all of them — we fudged (a little). They all deserved mentions, and they all deserved more attention... but there was only so much we imaginary ones could handle.

Therefore, in an effort to be equitable, we wrote about all the bands — but they each got 100 words only (or as they say on The Price is Right, we needed to come as-close-to-100-words-without-going-over). Those of you familiar with our writing styles recognize what a challenge this was for us.

{In that spirit, please be advised that words strung together with hyphens count as one word in Word®. And who are we to argue with Word?}

The Imaginary Girls staggering run of incredible out-of-town shows...

The Natural History
{3.28.03 at Graceland}

The Natural History sounded hot! They sounded... Hot Hot! Okay, they sounded like Hot Hot Heat, with a smidge of Strokes. But — HHH sound like the Strokes, too. Is this a derivative of a derivation? OR — as igLiz wisely noted — does TNH pre-date HHH, who perhaps just luckily got signed first by Sub Sub Pop Pop? Hmm. The trio enthusiastically opened the night for French Kicks and Idlewild, front men Julian and Max Tepper are obviously brothers ("you don't get hair like that by coincidence," chimed the posse), and hell, if you've gotta resemble a band, HHH's not too shabby...

The French Kicks
{3.28.03 at Graceland}

The French Kicks went on a shopping spree at the Strokes store. They bought the white low-slung belt and the mussed hair, but tragically forgot to purchase the charisma, the hooks, the sex appeal, and the pop-sensibilities (aisle eight guys, next to the how- to- get- Hollywood- girlfriend- manual!). I have no idea how the French Kicks (or as oui like to say, the Freedom Kicks) got to open for the lusciously-fabulous Idlewild. Their songs left me void, like they weren't quite done, and I hated Nick's icky-falsetto. The bass player was cool; he actually looked French. "Right on time, right in line..." Ce qui?

Arab Strap
{4.04.03 at the Showbox}

The music that Aidan and Malcolm create sounds just as Glaswegian as you'd expect. The place swooned with each trill as Aidan's brogue jabbed between the soothing string section parts {thanks to the breathtaking guest female string section}, contemplative guitar strums and Casio drumbeats... melancholic songs broken up by pub-bie self-deprecating witticisms. Whenever I closed my eyes, I felt like I was in the middle of a sad movie... the one where the rain is pounding on the drenched protagonist as he quivers with tears in the deserted park. But the best part was when they played AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long."

Bettie Serveert
{4.08.03 at the Crocodile}

Ah ha! Bettie Serveert is a band, not just a woman!! How did I not know that?!? And how had I never heard of this fantastically-skilled Dutch band before? They've been around for years, they have all sorts of indie-cred, leader singer Carol Van Dyk (who *is* female) has a sultry, silken, powerful voice fronting a stellar, hook-laden, solid band — there's nothing to argue about here — they're tight and clean and cut. Lucky for BS (ooh, unfortunate acronym), other Seattle-ites were far wiser than I; the Croc was packed with a most reputable and uncharacteristically enthusiastic crowd of fans.

The Sights
{4.09.03 at Graceland}

One could imagine it would be quite a daunting task to open up for the Datsuns – an act critically acclaimed for their high energy performances and nonstop punches of purist rock. Thank goodness the Sights were chosen for such a mission. Without them, I wouldn't have gotten what I came for – honest to goodness garage rock nodding to the Zombies and the Jam. They've truly earned their tangible ties to their Detroit brethren the Detroit Cobras, Ko and the Knockouts and the Henchmen with their talent to create stunning songs worthy of the grand decibel at which they played.

The Datsuns
{4.09.03 at Graceland}

The Datsuns have- a- solid- case- of- the- emperor's- new- clothes. This garage-rock band earned incredible indie-hype as the talk of SXSW. "It's gonna start stinking in here soon," grinned Liz just-pre-show, gleefully recalling how fellow Kiwis D4 had rocked Graceland. The Datsun's rocked — sure — but with a little-r, without stench. Liz bemoaned that she didn't find anyone in the band attractive and truly, I thought they offered nothing innovative that I hadn't already heard on K102 in South Florida before they went off-the-air in 1986. They just needed eyeliner and hair-mousse. Fellow music-lovers, methinks we've been duped. We're listening to buttrock again... {not that anything's wrong with that...}

Caesars
{4.10.03 at Graceland}

Caesars solidly opened the night for TSOOL with at least 39 minutes of jingling-jangling guitars, dark curly locks, and driving catchy rock-pop bliss. Tragically, many fans missed them, as the bar appeared as full as the showroom {all-ages grumble}, but anticipate their obvious stand-out hit "Jerk it Out" as the lead contender for the pervy-feel-good-favorite-hit-for-summer 2003. A bonus: after the show, we witnessed the most incredible scenster clash between Ben Lashes and Jon Whitney, who both managed to appear at this show as well as the Hint Hint/Divorce show for the one-year anniversary of Chop Suey. Good job, boys!

The Soundtrack of Our Lives
{4.10.03 at Graceland}

Mmm, The Soundtrack of Our Lives: we should all be so lucky to live lives that warrant such soundtracks as this: lush, evocative, introspective, textual, swirly and gorgeous — not to mention, filled with hot Swedes and fronted by a gargantuan man-bear with the kindest face and most sweetly expressive voice. The show highlight: after murmuring a bit of Donna Summer's "Love to Love You Baby," front man Ebbot "Hagrid" Lundberg requested everyone sit down (which we did), and he walked through the audience, peering curiously at our faces, smiling and singing his way through the crowd — who went crazy. Fantastic!

Aereogramme
{4.12.03 at the Crocodile}

What I love most about Aereogramme is their name. Some might suggest that they were being frivolous with their use of the alphabet. I say they just got their money's worth when they were buying vowels. Their latest album, Sleep and Release, paled in comparison to their knack for spelling. But, when I heard their loud, thick monstrous guitar textures divided by sensitive finger-picking and whispers coming from the showroom, I found myself drawn away from my comfortable seat in the restaurant towards the stage lights. Now that I've heard them live, their new album isn't so nondescript.

The Delgados
{4.12.03 at the Crocodile}

Oh God, the Delgados. What a fantastic band, what a fantastic show: two violins, one cello, one flute, a bunch of typical rock instruments, and the incredibly otherworldly voice of Emma Pollock just caressing each melody. The uniqueness of her voice first drew us both into the ethereal Delgados web {igLiz with Great Eastern, igDana with their latest release Hate}; live, it was positively breathtaking on songs like "The Light Before We Land," "Woke From Dreaming," and "American Trilogy." Oh God, it was gorgeous. Did you know they're named after a Spanish cycling champion, Pedro Delgado? Well, now you do...

bettie1.jpg

100 word about 10 bands, including The Natural History, the French Kicks, Bettie Serveert, the Sights, the Datsuns, Caesars, the Soundtrack of Our Lives, Aerogramme, and the Delgados {*phew*}.

Little Hand of the City, The Pale, The Senate Arcade

three imaginary girls — Wed, 29 Sep 2004 07:00:00 +0000

28 Sep 2004

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The evening started low-key enough. A last minute decision to treat ourselves turned into a Tuesday night show of unknowns and known favorites. A band that had recently crossed our radar, Little Hand of the City was opening up for imaginary heartthrobs, The Senate Arcade and The Pale.

I found out about Little Hand of the City {LHotC} when I started at my new job. LHotC singer / guitarist Aaron Mannino apparently mentioned this imaginary website to my boss, who in turn passed along informative LHotC words to me. In typical Seattle fashion, I followed up with internet research and was pleased with the mp3s on their site.

And when we discovered that they were on the bill with The Senate Arcade AND The Pale... it was a no-brainer. New music PLUS two bands we've been jones-ing to see for a while? We were there.

Although the LHotC set was short, I think got a great feel for their pop rock tinged with Seattle grunge sound regardless. I am excited to hear the EP they mentioned they've been recording.

Lead singer Aaron had the onstage presence of a Rhett Miller Jr. He was polished, fearless, and wiley on the guitar and vocals, without a stitch of nervousness about him.

When I spoke to him after the show, I found out that the band name was derived from the last names of the founding members: Aaron Mannino and brothers Mark and Dan DeJoy {DeJoy was originally DiGioa}. When their last names are combined {Mannino DiGioa} and translated from Italian {Mannino = Little Hand, DiGioa = Of the city, Gioa}, you get "Little Hand of the City, Gioa". They shortened it to Little Hand of the City and haven't looked back.

I love a good naming convention, but up until five minutes ago I kept referring to them as Little Hands of the City. And it's such a mouthful. I think they should rename themselves something like... Triple Word Score! Or Yatzee! Or Sillie Nelson would be fun.

Or Boxers Not Briefs! It would be so funny to hear someone say, "I like Boxers Not Briefs!" Oh... what about The Murky Dismals!

I think The Murky Dismals is brilliant. But LHotC isn't even close to murky or dismal or even solemn. Maybe they should make up a grouping of words, like Waxtry, or MasterFlaker, or w.w.h.d. {What Would Hedwig Do?}.

But I like Boxers Not Briefs the best.

Me too, though it might be tied with Triple Word Score! We can leave that name for another band to use. But from here on out, let's call LHoTC BNB. Is that so wrong? I wonder if they could capitalize on the B&B {bed and breakfast} imagery associated with the acronym of their new name.

Ah, the t-shirts! I could see an illustration of a New England style house... I'd even let them put "Little Hand of the City" on the doormat. Speaking of good-looking and well-designed, The Senate Arcade followed BNB on the bill.

The Senate Arcade has that Sparta spark with a Helmet hangover. Unlike their metaphorical brethren, I find their brand of concussion soothing. Each song is a constant wave of mutilation. Hooky variations meld together to make the Senate Arcade rapids oddly calming.

They calm you? I think The Senate Arcade need warnings listed on their CD packaging "Do not listen to while in rush hour traffic" because Todd Schlosser's wailing vocals layered atop that driving guitar layered atop Matt Terrich's screaming in the background makes me want to rear-end the fucker that's talking on his cell phone on 520. I promise you I'd be smiling the entire time I did it!

Dude, you're marshing my mellow.

Oh... whew... {deep breath}. I just mean that they are intense so I get intense.

In my favorite Senate Arcade song, Todd screams Stealing your thoughts! As they began the song this evening, I leaned over to tell igLiz something just as Todd screeched "Stealing your words!" I looked around the crowd realized that he had essentially done that. No one in the crowd was having a conversation while TSA were playing. Not only because everyone was watching the show, but also because the guitars, drums, and vocals filled every inch of the room. TSA leave no room to conjure your own words.

I was speechless because it was likely the most sedate I had been all week. What a perfect state of mind to greet a Pale set!

The Pale write songs that are so smart and coy, they are themes for the valedictorian boy next door. They are swift with their hooks and render the audience defenseless with the one-two punch of Gabe Archer's lullaby-esque vocals and whimsical keyboard. They make music that is sweet and charming while remaining quite reminiscent of early 80's U2.

And tonight we learned that they are going to begin recording their next record in November!

I always have just two questions when I watch the Pale perform: Why haven't these boys made it big yet, and is it possible to fall in puppy love with four people at the same time?

Answer: Good things come in time, and I am certain it is going to happen to these hardworking fellows soon... and yes, it is possible and totally understandable to fall in puppy love with the four sweets in the Pale.

Whew, then all is far and right in the world.

Oh, and one more question {applicable to this show only though}... Did you see Gabe's "Say yes to Michigan" shirt?!! A man after my own heart. "SAY YES TO MICHIGAN!"

Are you back to being "intense" again?

Nah, it is just the combination of the Pale, Michigan, and saying "YES" gets me all excited.

True... thank goodness for the Tuesday night treat!

I think they should rename themselves something like... Triple Word Score! Or Yatzee! Or Sillie Nelson would be fun. Or Boxers Not Briefs!

Tennis Pro and Argo

imaginary char — Fri, 27 Aug 2004 07:00:00 +0000

24 Aug 2004

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I know I've already written about Tennis Pro. I know I've already sprinkled them with loving adjectives like zany and fun but I have news for you, readers — Tennis Pro has new songs! And fun new stage antics! I wouldn't be doing my imaginary job if I didn't keep you in the Pro-know.

My favorite new song features a semi-dirty and ever so catchy chorus in which Phil Peterson {the bass player/singer} states with no regrets, "I'm takin' your mom home tonight." And if that wasn't enough visual for you, at the end of the song he admits, "That song was based on a true story. I wrote it this morning. I'm sure you can put that all together." Twisted. Twisted and oh so good.

Lead singer and guitarist extraordinaire David Drury asked the crowd during one of their last songs, "Who is going to volunteer to write about us tomorrow in their blog?..." After a moment of silence and no movement he upped the ante with, "Whoever volunteers gets a special treat." After Phil's song about taking someone's mother home, I was a little frightened to see what this Tennis Pro treat involved. A young teenage girl raised her hand and was invited onstage. David gave her a tennis racquet and exclaimed, "During this next song you get to smash the tennis racquet." That's when I wondered why I didn't volunteer. Oh wait, I don't have a blog... does this website count, I wonder?

Special sidenote for David Drury's eyes only: David Drury, I'm writing about your band in my "blog" — I want to smash an official Tennis Pro racquet!!

Anyway, the blogging teenager smashed that racquet into smithereens. I have no idea if she followed through with her morning after promise, but she looked inspired as she annihilated that fine piece of tennis equipment.

After the deconstruction, it was time to build things back up again with soothing sounds of Argo. This night's show was a special one for Argo, as it's their last show in their original formation for a while. Scott, the main Fender Rhodes player for the band, is leaving for six months for school and to travel Asia. As a special going away present, he got to write the setlist for the evening.

The first song on the list featured an acoustic, instrumental number. Whilst listening to this nonlyrical song, I realized that listening to Argo is like trying to date a shy boy. He's right there in front of you and you're intrigued by him and his mysterious melody, and you know you'll be smitten with him as soon as you can get some words out of him — it's just going to take patience. By the second song, I had what I was longing for: lyrics. Pretty, pretty lyrics. And Argo embodies everything you'd expect from boys who prefer to keep their words buried: sweet, unassuming, and mysterious.

To complement their soft sound, Argo decorated the stage with vintage lamps. {Yes, like living room lamps.} The warm glow set the stage for intimate conversations without talking; Because in a lot of ways, shy boys are better than the verbose ones. But you must realize to truly get to know the shy ones, you have to spend lots of time with them. This may seem like an impossibility since a main member of the Argo clan is going to be thousands of miles away. Luckily, Argo will still be playing shows in Scott's absence.

I know I've already sprinkled them with loving adjectives like zany and fun but I have news for you, readers — Tennis Pro has new songs!

The Stereo Future, Big Collapse, No Means Yes, and Irene

three imaginary girls — Sat, 31 Jul 2004 07:00:00 +0000

28 Jul 2004

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With the whirlwind that is our imaginary lives — hoping for a new President, working our day jobs, and posting CD reviews, oh my! — it's refreshing to show up on a weeknight at Graceland to see four unknown {to us} bands. It's the adventure of it all, really, or as Char's imaginary date du noir said...

"It's like a piñata. You beat the shit out of it and you just never know what's gonna come out."

This proved a wise epithet for the evening, which featured a halfway local lineup of bands: Irene (from Houston), No Means Yes (newly-moved to Seattle), Big Collapse (from L.A.), and the Stereo Future (from Seattle).

And speaking of hot, can I just mention that Graceland was a fucking oven?

Sweet Jesus, was it hot!

Have you all noticed that Graceland has been booking quite the ball of banger line-ups lately? This evening's openers, Irene was no exception, playing loud, metal-like rock. And — all three members are brothers! I wonder if they borrowed their parent's minivan for the roadtrip in from Texas?

Irene sounded like cooking a pancake at too hot a temperature, so that the outside gets crusty, dark, and unpalatable, while the inside is underdone, un-gelled. To continue the metaphor, Irene had raw intermitted moments of power when their combined elements sizzled, but overall their recipe didn't suit my current musical diet.

They put the butt back into buttrock. I haven't heard music this aggressive since Riki Rachman was working for MTV. They sound kinda like Andrew W.K.

Some songs really highlighted the bass player's obvious jazz background, and in other songs, the bass line was drown out by the deafening, driving guitar.

I lack the vocabulary to describe this one. Well, other than to compare them to a pancake.

Mmmm, pancakes. I'm sorry I missed them. I arrived just in time for No Means Yes, a punk-pop, slightly sinister four-piece band with a female keyboard player. She didn't fit in with the band, either. The keyboards were kinda incongruous with the rest of the band's sound. Although they got over-powered for most of the set, the keystrokes sounded nice when you could hear them. The lead singer said she was new (and cute). I bet she was brought on to be the designated driver.

And even though no one else agrees with me, I thought they had a bit of a Dead Milkmen sound {minus the humorous lyrics about lizards and banana peels}. And I gotta say, I'm not really comfortable with their name. 'Cause NoMeansNo.

My favorite part was when the guitar player blew fire. Seriously. He drank something, or put it in his mouth, and then lit a lighter and blew AND THEN THERE WAS FIRE. It rocked. Welcome to our fair city, boys (and girl).

Following No Means Yes came the Big Collapse, who are from LA. We found this frustrating, as we were trying to discover some new local bands. But anyhow... there they were. They had a decidedly earnest classic rock sound, especially in the vocals. Think Living Color only all white, At the Drive-In only less interesting, the Senate Arcade minus the math rock, or the Black Crowes minus the heroin.

The Black Crowes did heroin?

Oh, I don't know. Chris Robinson at least looks like he did/does. I don't know, empty shows for out-of-town bands make me sad. They make me wish Graceland had blenders so I could have a piña colada. I was very sober.

Me too.

We were both very, very hot and very, very sober.

Not me.

I had a pitcher of cold beer to go with my hot date!

After an evening of decidedly metallic ruckus, Seattle's the Stereo Future initially sounded like a freakin' ray of sunshine, a four-piece with lighthearted guitars and fine indie-pop sensibilities.

A little history: we decided to attend this show based on the demo the Stereo Future sent our way. The EP stood out as intricate without being noodly. While the recording quality was shoddy, we could hear potential, a diamond in the rough, if you will. A little work, and we figured it could be the next-big-thing, like a Built to Spill meets Blonde Redhead dynamo of a band.

Unfortunately, the band's set was plagued with technical difficulties and pitch issues. It seems that everything melted down — their accompanying laptop crashed, their vocals faltered, and at one point, the band claimed their laptop was "out of tune," causing one smartass show attendee to heckle, "You can't tune a laptop." That's funny.

I blame the heat. Did I mention how hot is was in Graceland?

Hot enough to untune a laptop.

Indeed. In case the Stereo Future are wondering if they're worth investing in studio time, the answer is, certainly. I've heard rumors that a new release is forthcoming. I hope to hear it, and perhaps see them again. Like, maybe October. You know, when things cool down a bit.

In the meantime, off I go to find a piña colada...

And speaking of hot, can I just mention that Graceland was a fucking oven? Sweet Jesus, was it hot!

The Lashes, DEK, and Agent Orange

Imaginary Farley — Wed, 23 Jun 2004 07:00:00 +0000

22 Jun 2004

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June 22's Graceland bill was a fascinating mix of all things punk.

The five-band-bill was definitively punk: loud, fast and adrenaline-pumping. But missing was much confluence among the bands, each at a seemingly different point in their careers as punk-rockers.

In terms of the evening's line-up continuity, the Lashes (armed with a much-deserved Lookout Records deal) were the only slightly odd-fit to the devout punk rockers in the audience. For most in attendance, their melodic, Stone Roses-inspired songs were an added bonus to a hefty punk bill. But for those skate-core, hard-core, all-you-can-eat punkers in attendance, the Lashes' willingness to banter with the audience between songs was a bit of a bore.

"Shut the fuck up!" yelled one such fan.

The lead singer Ben Lashes wasn't having any of it.

"Hey, fuck you man!" he yelled back. "Sometimes we like to play with our instruments tuned. So fuck you punk rocker!"

Amidst applause, that was the last anyone heard from the foul-mouthed Lashes-hater.

{Ed note: I think the best part was when Ben challenged the heckler with, "Why don't you come up here and tell me to shut the fuck up! I shop at Hot Topic too!" He then lifted his shirt so everyone could see his stylish studded belt. That Ben, so adorably feisty. ~igLiz}

Amazingly, not much past 9 p.m., DEK was gracing the Graceland stage and ecstatically celebrating the release of their first album, "Boner." The band (all between ages 15 and 17) paraded around the stage with teeny-bopping attractiveness and dirty-rotten-fun-as-all-get-out-punk-rock.

"Holy shit!" yelled one DEK onlooker, likely surprised by the group's age (or lack thereof).

DEK's harshest critics (so says the Seattle PI article) are those hard-core punkers who say good punk only comes from the hardened streets, and not soccer mom suburbia. And yes, DEK (which stands for "Don't Even Know") has entitled their first effort Boner. But who didn't think the word "boner" was hilarious when they were 15?

That's what made the show unique. The experience of seeing DEK was seeing pure, unaffected-by-society suburban punk. Their songs are fast, tight compositions and they've certainly passed punk 101 with much potential to boot.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was the headliners of the bill, Agent Orange, who sported their first hit (in 1979 I believe) when members of DEK weren't even mere thoughts in the minds of their parents.

Agent Orange is classic three-piece skate punk — fast, furious bass, drums and guitar and nearly undecipherable lyrics. Everything they do is on speed, including two two-minute or less covers of "Secret Agent Man" and "Surf¹s Up." AO sift through a vast catalogue — 32 songs in all — in under 90 minutes.

Their band offered what those hard-core punkers had been screaming for hours — blood-pumping, in-your face, unstoppable skater rock that was turned up a further notch. In the five bands that perform on the night, they were the only ones that got a half-decent mosh pit going, showing the loyalty to the band's skate-punk mentality.

The band looked to be having a great time on stage and they proved their founding father status is justly earned.

The evening proved to be a learning experience for all. Bands and fans alike. There is a punk rock for everyone.

"Hey, fuck you man!" he yelled back. "Sometimes we like to play with our instruments tuned. So fuck you punk rocker!"

Three Imaginary Girls to Sponsor Ladyfest Showcase w/ The Catch, Ms. Led, Scream Club, Schoolyard Heroes, Smoosh, and Mon Frere

three imaginary girls — Mon, 14 Jun 2004 07:00:00 +0000

Seattle, WA, June 14, 2004 — ThreeImaginaryGirls.com, "Seattle's sparkly indie-pop press," will be co-sponsoring an all-ages Ladyfest Showcase on Saturday, June 26, 2004 at Graceland.

The night will feature a stellar lineup of some of the finest female Northwest artists, including The Catch, Ms. Led, Scream Club, Schoolyard Heroes, Smoosh, and Mon Frere, and will also feature DJs Les Saucettes spinning 1960s French-pop between the bands' sets.

Opening band Mon Frere impressed the imaginary girls when they won the finals of EMP's Sound Off competition 2004, a yearly contest for all-ages bands in the Northwest. The trio features clangy keyboards and raw, piercing lead vocals from front-woman Nouela Johnston.

Also on the not-to-be-missed list are Smoosh, featuring sisters Asy and Chloe, whose indie-pop keyboard/drums songs display musical prowess well beyond their years (they're 12 and 10, respectively). The duo has opened for Death Cab for Cutie and Sleater Kinney, and has their first full-length release coming later this year on local label Pattern 25.

"Smoosh write and play really good songs. They craft catchy-cute melodies with sophisticated timing changes, sweet vocals, and incredible song-writing — and they're so damn cute!" said imaginary girl Dana. "We fully expect they'll be superstars one day."

The bill also features the aggressively punk-pop Schoolyard Heroes, the audacious mohawked rap-rock babe duo Scream Club, the infectious melodies of post-punk feminist-rockergirls Ms. Led, and the foxy sass-mouthed new-wave pop hooks of headliners, The Catch.

"We can't wait to see Scream Club live, with that so-scary-it's-foxy matching makeup and mullet aesthetic they've got going on," said imaginary girl Char. "Any band that garners undying praise from Time Out, Yeti, Venus, Bust, Bitch, and Yoko Ono in one press page has to be stellar."

"And The Catch — they're the styliest girls in town. I can't wait to see what color leg-warmers and pumps they've got on, or to hear all the great material from their forthcoming release this summer. Plus you get to hear Schoolyard Heroes and Ms. Led, all on the same bill? I can't believe we get to sponsor this all in one night. It's too good," exclaimed imaginary girl Liz.

Three Imaginary Girls are no strangers to the Seattle rock scene. During the past two years, the girls have reviewed hundreds of live shows and CDs in Seattle and beyond. They also book local music showcases, and have hosted various rockstar karaoke events, such as their Labor Day buttrock karaoke party, their Silly Love Songs Friday the 13th Pre-Valentine's Day Bash, and an indie-rock holiday party that raised hundreds of dollars for local charity, TreehouseForKids.org.

EVENT DETAILS
WHAT: Three Imaginary Girls Ladyfest show with The Catch, Ms. Led, Scream Club, Schoolyard Heroes, Smoosh, and Mon Frere. This event is all-ages.
WHERE: Graceland, 109 Eastlake Ave E.
WHEN: Saturday, June 26, 2004. Doors open 8p.
COST: $10. Ladyfest 5-event passes are available for $35. Advance tickets available on the Ladyfest Seattle website.

ABOUT LADYFEST SEATTLE
Ladyfest Seattle is part of a global tradition of all-volunteer, non-profit organizations raising awareness of women's issues through artistic pursuits. The original Ladyfest was held in Olympia, WA in 2000 and generated over $30,000 for women's charities. This year, Ladyfest Seattle will donate all proceeds to the local women's health center Aradia and Amnesty International. Voter registration will be available at all events, the quota of male to female artists in an act has been abolished, and half of the events will be all-ages.

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ThreeImaginaryGirls.com, "Seattle's sparkly indie-pop press," will be co-sponsoring an all-ages Ladyfest Showcase on Saturday, June 26, 2004 at Graceland.

Levi Fuller and Arkade

imaginary dana — Fri, 30 Jan 2004 08:00:00 +0000

28 Jan 2004

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Levi Fuller is a local singer-songwriter guy who walks that line between solo artist with backing band to fronting a trio called Levi Fuller & the Library. Ah well, either way, Levi is one of my favorite Friendsters, so when I heard I had the chance to catch him opening such a stellar local lineup {with Arkade, At Dusk, and TIG favs In Praise of Folly}, I headed out to the newly revamped Graceland on a Tuesday with my imaginary friend lee..

{imaginary aside: the newly designed Graceland looks really nice. And their was soap in the bathroom — well, at least there was in the girl's bathroom. Whoever though the day would come...?}

The trio was intense and focused, with rock-blues overtones and slide guitar a la the White Stripes, though less sparse; in fact, they were rich-sounding for a three-piece (Levi on vocals and guitar, plus a bass player Charlie Potter and drummer Kasey Alexander). After seeing them perform live, they seemed more like a band than "Levi Fuller and those backup guys" — their sound was cohensive, and Levi wasn't a showy person. He was, as the dayjob likes to say, a "team player," integrating his Son Volt-esque vocal stylings and nice dirty-bluesy guitar with their solid rhythm backline.

It's always nice to meet your friendster friends in non-imaginary reality. I'm thilled that Levi Fuller and co. have a sense of humor. My favorite moment? When Kasey proclaimed, "This is the first song off our new album!" a la Live at Budakon. Preciosa!

Next up we heard Arkade, another interesting local trio, but with a completely different sound; as in, they were way too dark to have white stripes. I admittedly saw only the start of their set, but what I heard was primarily instrumental, and full of dark, sweetly-creepy sounds.

They sounded to me like plodding, delicate spider crawling up its web. Arkade made effective use of artisitc monotony, slow momentum, and gong mallets {on the drumkit} to create an epic sound. I liked their solemnly arty crescendo and insane-sounding keyboards. They were like an artful, clanging cacaphony. I can't find any online info about a CD, which is a pity; I'm intrigued to hear a recording of these guys.

Maybe guitar-playing hot-red-headed front-woman Kelly has a Friendster profile that contains that information...?

The trio was intense and focused, with rock-blues overtones and slide guitar a la the White Stripes, though less sparse.

David Dondero

imaginary liz — Sun, 21 Dec 2003 08:00:00 +0000

20 Dec 2003

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Holiday parties, end of the year work deadlines, last minute holiday card writing, and gift procuring madness couldn't keep me away from a Visqueen show... especially one with David Dondero opening up... although those distressing things could make me late to the show. An unfortunate occurrence resulted in my missing the first few songs of David Dondero's set. Yet even with this reduced David-time, I was still able to be crushed by his pure unadulterated honesty, conviction and poignancy by the time he exited stage right.

Because his latest release Shooting At The Sun With A Water Gun (appropriately on Future Farmer Records) had been in high rotation in my home earlier this year, I'd had a bit of warning that this wasn't the most emotionally consistent bill. Where I'll later be discussing the glorious rock 'n roll-fun-Visqueen-time, their opener Mr. Dondero was serious, solemn, and slightly jittery. If looking for similarities, the most obvious comparison is to Bright Eyes', Conor Oberst. His shakey, heart-on-the-sleeve poetic take on the everyday human inhumanities not only tears you up but also empowers you with his lyrical condolences.

This evening, he seemed eerily alone on the stage. It was just him armed only with his beat-up acoustic guitar (complete with a gaping war-scar hole in the body) with two bright stage lights beating upon him. The sparse Graceland audience was muted by his intensity... except for one lone jackass. The guy in the back who, either because of pure stupidity or too much Brass Monkey, had the nerve to heckle David near the end of the set.

The exchange between singer and jackass began with a shout from the jackass calling for the singer to wrap it up. David, obviously not one who lets jackasses get away with being jackasses, confronted him from the stage. In an effort to see the jackass, he squinted his eyes and cupped his left hand over the top of his brow. He retorted, "You think it is so easy... come on up here. C'mon. You think you can do better... c'mon up!" Minutes that felt like hours passed as uncomfortable silence fell over the room while the jackass mumbled and David stood there. The six or so of us in the audience who couldn't bear the thought of him ending the set like this, encouragingly tried postive reinforcement tactics like yelling out songs of his that we still wanted to hear and throwing piercing looks to the jackass in the back booth.

Thank goodness the situation died down just enough for David to start one of the audience requests. Within minutes, we were back on track. Whew. He played the most crowd-pleasing of songs from his recent album, The Real Tina Turner before exiting the stage.

"If you break my heart, you pay for it."

Visqueen

imaginary liz — Sun, 21 Dec 2003 08:00:00 +0000

20 Dec 2003

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The December holidays are stressful for me. Always have been. Even before I was mildly aware of all the tradition and dysfunction surrounding them. What perfect timing that a Visqueen show would fall at the climax of this, a most crazed of times. This was exactly the rock 'n roll-realignment-of-the-spirit jolt I needed.

I won't repeat myself as igDana and I just recently gushed about Visqueen's force-to-be-reckoned-with powerhouse of indie-pop sound and intoxicating stage presence last month. So, I'll just cut to the chase to make sure you all make note of the following facts in ink... on your lower right arm:

SEE:

January 25, 2003 at Graceland w/D4 (from New Zealand) and the Turn-Ons

January 26, 2003 at the Showbox. Visqueen and the Donnas are going to playing a FREE all-ages show. It's a superbowl party!!! Complete with the game on a big-screen. Visqueen is the halftime show and the Donnas go on when the game is over. If I have football to thank for this event, then finally, hallelujah to the pigskin and Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders!

February 28, 2003 at the Vera Project to celebrate their CD Release (see OWN annoucement below). This will be an all ages show.

OWN:
The new Visqueen album, King Me, is finally available for pre-order on-line. It will be released February 11, 2003 and is ONLY $9.99 (plus $2 s/h in the U.S. & Canada. WA Sales Tax). Once released, you'll also be able to grab your copy at any of your favorite local record selling establishments... but pre-order your copy via their website now to avoid any delay in getting yours in hand as soon as possible.

HEAR:
Even though this isn't new info, you can hear a few King Me songs that they performed live during a recent KEXP in-studio performance.

"Take the sting out! Take the sting out!"

Triple X Audio

imaginary char — Mon, 17 Nov 2003 08:00:00 +0000

15 Nov 2003

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The spotlights were reflecting off all of the studded belts at Graceland on this particular Friday night. XXXAudio had friends and fans {and an imaginary girl} waiting outside in the rain for the doors to open. Shivering and wet, I entered, hoping that some good old fashioned rock and roll would warm me to the core. Ask and you shall receive.

At the forefront of XXXAudio is Denise Maupin and Brian Burnside. They teamed up with guitars and microphones to show their indie rock audience why power chords are called POWER chords. I don't think dust ever accumulates on any of Brian's fret boards. He was up and down that mutha like he was trying to start a fire. It was interesting to see a band with a male and a female vocalist that don't incorporate harmonies. The vocals weren't sweet at all: they were raw, hardcore and delectably fierce. XXXAudio had flavors of all the classic thrash rock {sans the big hair and makeup}.

During the set, the audience was participating in some sort of strange synchronized head banging. Just as I was writing that down {yes, we take notes during shows} ibLuc, who was with me for the evening, stated, "The crowd looks like they may be getting ready for a lunge pattern at aerobics class." The abrupt endings to each song left the audience head banging to sudden silence. When the head bangers gave their necks a short break, they raised their beers and screamed their wordless tributes to all that is XXXAudio. The fans were almost as interesting as the band. Or so I thought.

I was mesmerized by the bass player {Dan Infecto} who was identical to this amazing metal drummer guy I used to work with. I can't remember his real name, but everyone {even his mother} called him Slayer {for obvious reasons}. Dan incorporated a nice bass solo in one of their songs. Why don't more songs have bass solos? Bass players are musicians too.

Here’s where it gets interesting. For their second to last song they brought out Slice. "What is Slice?" you ask? The proper question for you to ask is who is Slice. Slice is XXXAudio's previous bass player that played on the album {Like Pumping Gas on Fire} they released in 2003. The strange thing is that when Slice came on the stage, everyone else left. It was an endearing singer/songwriter spotlight except it was with a bass guitar and it wasn't really endearing. It was stripped down Primus-esque rock with a vocalist that was borderline yodeling. It was strange, I'm not going to lie to you. There was even a point in the song where Slice started yelling, "YipeeKyeOhhhhhh!" The crowd loved it. When Slice had finished, the regular band came back on stage to sing the most ballady song of the set.

XXXAudio was consistent metal for the first couple of songs until the crowd started to get comfortable. Then they brought out Slice like a wildcard. Then they came back out and played a pretty song. One word to describe XXXAudio: unpredictable.

There was even a point in the song where Slice started yelling, "YipeeKyeOhhhhhh!" The crowd loved it.

The Rapture, with Beans and Out Hud

Michael X — Wed, 12 Nov 2003 08:00:00 +0000

11 Nov 2003

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The last time Out Hud came to town I didn't see them, and my friends have not let me forget it ever since. So I vowed that nothing could keep me away the next time they graced our fair city. Because the world's current favorite band The Rapture was headlining the show, I arrived early to prevent something as petty as a sellout keeping me from my destiny.

Opening act, Beans (from Anti-Pop Consortium) was probably fine and good, but I walked in just in time to see him put on his own album and rap over himself, which I always find absolutely inexcusable. So after half a song, I retreated to the bar to wait him out...

Fortunately, just as quickly and automatically as they took to the stage, Out Hud brought exactly the bootylicious sound that was promised, immediately cleansing my palette of Beans' offense. Mixing indie rock progression with hard-driving electronic beats, they produced danceable music that is still haunting. Maintaining unnaturally high energy throughout, they somehow forced a reaction from the crowd that I'm not sure I remember ever seeing in Seattle before: dancing. That's right; for every minute of the jarringly short 35-minute set, the entire main floor writhed and undulated and just let loose right along with Out Hud.

Searching for the secret of their success, I realized that what set them apart from a more traditional electronic band was that instead of using buttons for atmosphere, they used actual instruments. Driven almost entirely by the DJ and the bass guitar, Out Hud fills the stage with keyboards, guitars, and even a cello, all of which chime in from time to time (creating depths to the music best appreciated at home alone), but mainly serve to populate the stage with dancers that add to the live feel. To inspire the last four people standing still, one of the members even jumped off the stage and danced through the crowd, acting as Boogie Patrol, enthusiastically promoting ass-shaking . After the best workout of the year, I was in such a good mood (go endorphins!) that I was prepared to enjoy even The Rapture.

The only things I knew about New York's The Rapture before this show were that a) they are actually from San Francisco but moved to NYC so they could say they were from there, and that b) according to the show poster, the New York Times Magazine has hailed them as the "Sound of New York City Circa 2003." These two facts were nothing if not discouraging, so it took all of my strength to keep my itchy opinion finger from leading me right out the door to make up something bad about the band. Unfortunately, the following three things happened in rapid succession:

After Out Hud finished, the assembled crowd of happy-go-lucky danceaholics left en masse and was immediately replaced by what I affectionately refer to as "Hipster Assholes" (which I do not feel bad at all about holding against the band, thankyouverymuch).
After the stage was set up, the lights went out, and we all sat silently waiting for over five minutes for the band to grace the stage, to remind us all that, even though the World of Commercial Success cannot spell their name, The Rapture are rock stars.
When they finally got on stage, they played a song that sucked. Littered with forced atonality and flat vocals, they completely lacked the Shock and Awe that someone like The Cure (or any other band who can get away with the dark and silent stage approach) might inspire.

I believe firmly in the Three Strikes And You're Out approach to music appreciation, so at that point I had nothing left to gain. I took what was left of my Out Hud-induced high and danced all the way home.

The last time Out Hud came to town I didn't see them, and my friends have not let me forget it ever since.

The Pale

three imaginary girls — Sat, 08 Nov 2003 08:00:00 +0000

7 Nov 2003

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In my seven years living in the Pacific Northwest, I've found you can generally count on guys who hail from the greater Skagit/Whatcom county area. Perhaps it's something in the tulip fertilizer, or all that good clean near-to-Mt-Baker living... I can't be certain. What I do know is that Bellingham's the Pale epitomize this phenomenon: as kind and adorable as they are melodic and talented.

I've been a huge fan of their 2002 release Gravity Gets Things Done for some time, but had never seen them perform live {unless you count karaoke, like when Gabe and Greg covered "Roxanne" at our rockstar suicide karaoke party last June, which doesn't really count but was still was one of the greatest things I'VE EVER HEARD}. To say I was near giddy with anticipation to hear them perform sans karaoke-added reverb and supplied with... you know, instruments and stuff... would be an understatement. To say they exceeded my expectations would be the truth.

My overall impression was how utterly joyous the experience was. While hearing the brilliance of their well-crafted indie-pop hit-inevitabilities such as "How to Fit In," "Reasons to Try," "Fixed on a Pattern," and the aforementioned "Gravity Gets Things Done" would be enough to give me a nummy case of the warm fuzzies. Watching those guys onstage as they obviously relished playing and sharing each note of their songs — I felt genuine mirth.

Gabe jumped on his piano bench, played while bouncing on his feet with bended knees, and flailed his tongue out with joyous intent; Greg pounded his drumkit with beatific abandon. They gave an effortless glee to their music, a lack of pretense that was as aurally pleasurable as it was refreshing.

They love to play.

It was a very well-rounded set that left me more full and satisfied than mom's 12 course Thanksgiving extravaganza. Their opening song {the appetizer} was a cover of the Police's "Walking on the Moon" {what with that and "Roxanne," they must have a Police fixation... which is a good thing!}, the second their "radio hit", the third was a sugar sweet ballad.

For the fourth song Gabe switched to the keys {which also involved him standing on his chair while playing} and they ended the night with a tribute/cover to a Seattle band {United State of Electronica}. Mmmm, how I love dessert!

I realized I had a big cheesy grin on my face throughout the entire set and was bobbing my head back and forth like one of those annoying bobble dolls. Hey, imaginary bobbles. Now, that's an idea.

It's refreshing to listen to a band that's total rock star material, but they're still humble. Gabe thanked the other bands numerous times and even said they've been looking forward to this show for weeks. I can't remember the last time I got so excited about a band after only consuming half a beer.

Here's some more scoop re: the Pale: they've just signed to SideCho Records, a label based in Southern California, who plan to re-release Gravity Gets Things Done on January 13th, 2004. The new version of the CD will contain two new Pale songs, and they told us to anticipate a fun release party at Graceland mid-January.

So what about your old version of Gravity... will you have to buy another copy to hear those two new songs? Those nice guys of the Pale have anticipated your concerns, and have drafted a New CD FAQ on their website, including this:

"We will be offering the rerelease for an amazingly low price on our website a few weeks prior to its release... There will be another special way to get the cd that we'll announce closer to its release!"

See? We told you they were sweethearts...

"You are the {imaginary} girl with smiles and gravity, and gravity gets things done."

Rocky Votolato

three imaginary girls — Sat, 08 Nov 2003 08:00:00 +0000

7 Nov 2003

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Singer/song-writer/indie-rock prophet Rocky Votolato rang forth from the Graceland stage as a pulpit, commanding his audience with his almightly guitar and the reedy power of his vocals in ways with more commanding presence and authority than an army of bands can generally muster. Touring in support of his latest release Suicide Machine the Waxwing frontman on his own poured out his soul, drenched us in powerful rock anthems, and inspired us with his passionate lyrics and staggering talent.

With his messages ringing personal as a metaphor for political (or is it the other way around?), his songwriting prowess and stage-presence evoked the earnestness and intensity of a young {and American} Billy Bragg. To confirm the reports — yes, the obvious Jeff Buckley comparison was also evident. And when I say his lyrics were personal, what I mean to say is: secluded, intimate, heartbreakingly painful, agony- that- might- be- too- painful- to- disclose- to- a- closest- loved- one- or- perhaps- even- an- $85- an- hour- professional sort of personal. Consider these lyric snippets {all of which can be seen by visiting Rocky's website}:

From "The Light and Sound":
"I don't want to have to bury you like this. / Something's gotta get your attention. / If I have to crack open your skull with my fist. / I'll let the light and the sound escape."

From "Death — Right"
"You'll die young if you live so carefully. / There are risks you must take to pay this world. / I know it would never be that easy. / I have not yet earned the right to die. / I want you to hear me screaming. / I want you to notice what goes on. / Temptation and evil demons crawling the earth hiding in every corner."

From "Prison is Private Property"
"The have nots have had enough and now they're out to kill the king. / Of what looks to be an evil empire where short-term earnings mean everything. / There's a pressure to deliver here, you're gonna get hurt if you don't play this game. / Nobody will ever know, just the CEO to the CFO."

Yow, that's some heavy shite. Yet note the element of hope through the despair, the desire to beat great odds, to seek greater outcomes — to achieve something personal, unique, and good, no matter the battle it involves.

But in no way do I mean to imply he's ponderous. What keeps Rocky Vototalo earnest and wonderful rather than emo-cliche is his integrity. Nothing he presents is pretense — you can tell his expression arises from a lack of compromise, a devotion to pure expression, a defiant lack of pandering to what's trendy, and an sheer love of significant musical expression.

Rocky managed to convey musically the values he stated lyrically. Live, it felt like extracting these songs from his core and sharing them with a crowd must have been both cathartic and exhausting for him; I can only imagine how wrung he must have felt, after reliving each one with us. Personally, I felt guiltlessly exhausted, like a hard-days fruitful energy spent, just from watching.

Yeah, what igDana said. I'm not sure I can add anything to that eloquent {and completely accurate} description, but I can summarize: Rocky gets an imaginary A+ for songwriting.

Rocky Votolato live at Graceland: "Something here is still innocent."

American Analog Set

Michael X — Wed, 05 Nov 2003 08:00:00 +0000

4 Nov 2003

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I don't yet understand the justification behind the cruel work of the gods that has prevented me from listening to the American Analog Set before this year. However, if once I was a sinner now I am found, for I recently got a copy of the Austin, TX, quintet's newest album, Promise of Love which is rapidly climbing my Top Ten Albums list for the year.

Full of lullabies and otherwise laid-back grooves, the album is a near-perfect reinterpretation of the idea of shoegazing. I say near-perfect because the one weak spot is the title track, which comes screaming out of the woodwork to clobber you. The abrasiveness of this song is unsettling at best; the fear it induces and what it may represent is the only thing standing between me and an unconditional love for all things American Analog Set.

As if the fates heard my tortured screams in the night, and felt compelled to make up for the cruelty of the gods, the band opened the show with "Promise of Love" played at HALF SPEED. As regular readers know I have a propensity to do, I nearly wet my pants 30 seconds into it. Suddenly all was right with the world; finally I could just close my eyes and allow the gentle melodies to lift me off the ground, out of the smoky club, and into the arms of St. American Analog Set, who rocked me gently into submission in the clouds high above, safe from all the dischord and agitation spawned by the other bands below. AmAnSet (as I understand their friends call them) play nothing but g-spot. Filling the space with sickly sweet tremolo-laced chords, drums brushed or tapped (never beaten), and the unequivocally soothing ping of the xylophone, AmAnSet don't necessarily care where a song is going, so long as it feels good getting there. And they never once rise above that glorious sedation, never hurrying, never harshing mellows, never accentuating a point. Everything they play becomes, during the moment they play it, the Best Song Ever, like a drug that works in four-minute spurts. And like a junkie, I have spent the weeks since the show scavenging for every album they have so that I can find just a few more moments of peace. They have become the soundtrack to my dreams, and it becomes harder to wake up each and every day.

Wanna come up to my room and see my American Analog Set? Write to me.

I don't yet understand the justification behind the cruel work of the gods that has prevented me from listening to the American Analog Set before this year.

Touchdown Eagle to the Divorce: Bands vs. Bush

three imaginary girls — Sat, 11 Oct 2003 07:00:00 +0000

10 Oct 2003

How often does igDana get to a show by 6:35pm on a Friday to catch an opening band? Answer: never. That is, the answer was never until the Bands Against Bush show, and then the answer changed because Touchdown Eagle was playing second of the ten bands in the lineup.

What motivated me to leave my day-job early and get mine-self to a club before the sun had fully set? Why, it was Stacy from Touchdown Eagle, who wrote to TIG to promote the show as follows:

"We know that Bush was a pretty mediocre band and all, but it seems like people have been really down on them lately. Do they have a new album coming out or something?"

Wit, she is a powerful seducer. If Touchdown Eagle was going on at 6:35p, we would be there at 6:35p. And down on Bush!!

I am still not sure where it falls on the rock and roll scale to go directly from fumbling with work spreadsheets to indie-pop rocking out... but regardless, my stressed-out-work-mindset was quickly lightened once Touchdown Eagle hit their first high scoring chord progression.

Their mix of Aislers Set retro soda fountain goodiness with the Lois lo-fi production, and simplistic yet infectous Small Factory melodies deleted all thoughts related to columns or formulas.

And they were so sweet, I wanted to eat their heads. If I were to {eat their heads}, I think it would taste like a Caramel. With their ultra-spiffy grandfather-esque cardigans and ties... I would say it would specifically be of the Werther's Original® variety. It tastes so good, gives you a bit of a sugar-rush, and with a vintage aesthetic.

I think Tootsie Pops®?

How many tasty licks did it take to get to the center of the Touchdown Eagle indie-pop?

On the crunchy outside, they were adorable; think vintage old man sweater, ties, and Converse; think three of the four band members were chicks, though you might question which ones at first glance; think they were all so cute and talented gender felt superfluous, so cute that I coined a new term just for them: indie-rock androgyny.

Musically, I wanted to impulsively bite their sweet, nostalgically-melodic shell in order to get to the chewy, cleverly-crafted pop-rock confection core — and yet, I didn't want to lose the sweet satisfaction of the hard candy on the outside either.

We were hooked on their euphonics. They've got 50's pop purity, an all-girl rhythm section, and a baby blue guitar! They get gold stars.

I found them exquisitely unrefined, exceedingly charming, with understated male vocals and dulcet female harmonies. They had a strong intensity, but a sweet underlying softness throughout.

I wanted to know more. So I wrote back to Stacy Touchdown bass player, my favorite e-penpal and indie-rock androgyny queen, to solicit further information. Here's what I learned.

igDana: Stacy, do you have a web site where fans could learn more about Touchdown Eagle?
Stacy Touchdown: No, we do not have a web site. We are simply not smart enough. Maybe in the future.

igDana: When is Touchdown Eagle playing next?
Stacy Touchdown: We are playing at the Northwest Center Halloween party on Oct. 31 from 11am - 2pm. This celebration will be for clients, home staff and family members. don't forget to wear a costume!

We're also playing November 19th at 2nd Ave Pizza with Aisjump from Iowa.

igDana: Do you have a CD available that fans and readers could purchase?
Stacy Touchdown: We only have free CDs that we give to people upon request at the moment. We are working on a CD right now with a very nice man named Josh that is going to be WHITE FUCKING HOT!!

Of note, their debut self-released EP ROCKS THE HOUSE as well. Read what imaginary boy Chilly C thought about it in this month's AstroPOP!

And Touchdown Eagle were just the second in the impeccable 10 band lineup for the evening. We had every good intention of watching and reviewing these bands — but we got distracted by our need for dinner {yummy Cafe Venus pumpkin ravioli!!} and by the rules of engagement for Graceland all-ages shows: namely, the separation of music and alcohol into two separate rooms.

Post-Touchdown-Eaglers in the line-up included Anna Oxygen, Plan B, Yeek Yak Airforce (frontman Ollie Byrd was the organizer for tonight's event), the Fitness, and headliners the Divorce.

And don't forget about the hot-chick arm wrestling...

Ooh — are we gonna talk about that?

Um, YAH we are!

We turned our back for a moment, and next thing we knew, several of our imaginary boy friends were arm-wrestling with strong hot chicks at the bar, including Janie, drummer for the Preons, her fab friend Erika, and Carly, frontwoman for the Catch who stepped in late to become the bad-ass victor of the arm wrestling tournament. In fact, the girls took it, time and time again. Eventually, strangers flocked to our table to take the hot-chick arm-wresting challenge, with varying results.

Who says you can't meet new {strong, hot} friends at rock shows?

The arm-wrestling was such a fascinating distraction that we ended up missing most of the bands... but we couldn't miss the Divorce, what with frontman Shane looking so handsome in his suit and guitar-slaying Jimmy looking so positively dapper in his Navy duds.

{imaginary boy photographer Ryan Schierling fact tidbit: "Jimmy was actually wearing a Navy dress blue uniform top... that of a first-class petty officer, and a yeoman at that — the navy's version of a secretary. The two red stripes on his sleeve cuff indicated that he's been in the navy for more than eight years.

He should keep an eye open for a Navy band first-class petty officer."}

And then there was new-since-the-release-of-the-album fellow {Garrett}. He added a nice dimension to their live sound but I wonder if Jimmy, as a more senior member of the ensemble, makes Garrett do pushups and swab the practice space/deck with his toothbrush?

The Divorce's debut full-length album (There Will Be Blood Tonight) is an undeniable forerunner in the TIG top 5 albums of the year... which makes my next statement nearly obscene.

This is the first time I've seen an entire Divorce set.

Me too! I love that album with all my heart AND I've never seen a full Divorce set either.

Is there a 10 step program for underpriviledged folks like us?

If not, there should be...

But, can you believe our luck? We were able to support a meaningful cause, be front row for hot-chick arm-wrestling and FINALLY see the Divorce perform... all in one night! Three things checked off the to-do list.

I loved it all... the Garrett guitar rifts, the intermittent Jimmy screams, Kyle keeping it real and in-line, and the dizzifying poetic webs of Shane. They have got their own trademark-able precise yet unaffected style... musically and visually.

I feel lucky to have caught them in the intimate and charged Graceland this evening. The Divorce is an incredibly talented local foursome who appears perched on the very-verge of super-stardom.

Their recorded stuff has the intensity of a sweaty sold-out show and their live show has the flawless musicianship of session veterans. Their rock- "cool record store clerk" -gone- punk- cum- 1990s-"have the house for the weekend while my parents are out of town" is all their own. And they know exactly what to do with it.

I hope they are storing memorabilia at their Moms' houses for the Divorce exhibit at the EMP.

They'd better!

AND — for you politically-minded, leftward-leaning imaginary folks, Ollie Byrd {the organizer of this Bands Against Bush event, remember?} is a fantastic resource for political activism and horrifying news about what's going in the world. He's an avid emailer of all-things-political, and helps me keep in touch with what's going on in the world deeper than the news delves. Want to get his email updates? Email him!

An anti-Bush fundraiser at Graceland, featuring Touchdown Eagle, The Divorce, The Fitness, Yeek Yak Airforce, Plan Be, Anna Oxygen, and more.... plus, women's arm-wrestling!

Sushirobo

imaginary dana — Sat, 20 Sep 2003 07:00:00 +0000

19 Sep 2003

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And on the fifth day, Seattle's own Sushirobo played their CD release party at Graceland with Kaito and the Walkmen, to support their brand-spankin' new CD, The Light-Fingered Feeling of Sushirobo (Pattern 25 Records). igDana heard what they played, and she knew it was good.

I think Donny and Marie Osmond said it best when he said: "They're a little bit funky... and a little bit rock and roll." Here's a band that named themselves after a Vancouver restaurant where robots make sushi, playing music that intentionally de-emphasizes traditional guitar, instead opting for spacious tones with plenty of room for the irreverent. With saucy, well-articulated lyrics, Arthur Roberts made me giggle by rhyming a sentence ending in the word "Belladonna" with, "You light a candle and pretend it's marijuana." Tee hee.

And I don't even think that lyric was from a real song — I believe it was his consummate-front-man-filler-schmutz while guitar player Dave Einmo troubleshot his instrument's technical issues. Now while it might cause a "normal" rock band anxiety to have guitar functionality meltdown during a CD-release show, that effect must have been exponentially greater for Sushirobo, as they had wacko guitar effects a-go-go.

Not that their anxiety showed. Their effortless charm was infectious, and after one improv song, Sushirobo were back up playing, deconstructing the very notion of guitar — as in, eliciting wildly-wacky sounds from it that didn't even sound like guitar-like — part swirling weirdness, part scary little Asian-sounding guitar blips and pings and wizzbangs, all the while carrying their songs along with a strong methodical rhythm section and quirky vocals.

While at times I found the overall sound was a bit thin — hey, I like driving indie guitar rock! — I totally dug that Sushirobo elevated indie-rock sound effects to a new level of ingenuity. I've decided to dub them Seattle's capricious-pop masters.

Here's a band that named themselves after a Vancouver restaurant where robots make sushi, playing music that intentionally de-emphasizes traditional guitar, instead opting for spacious tones with plenty of room for the irreverent.

The Weakerthans

Imaginary Simon — Sat, 13 Sep 2003 07:00:00 +0000

12 Sep 2003

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I love nights that start on a whim. A last minute plan for dinner out on a Friday evening resulted in catching a show that I cannot believe I almost didn't attend.

Although The Constantines and Roy opened up, I didn't find myself captured by the music until the The Weakerthans started their set. They were the headliners of this three-Canadian-band line-up. As soon as their set started I immediately jumped forward to catch a better glimpse of the band whose sound was incredibly pleasurable to my ears. The sound included an interesting and graceful voice that exuded warmth and sincerity, and two distinct but complementary guitars. Throughout the set they swapped parts or played melodies that wrapped around eath other.

As a fellow newly-Weakerthans-convert noted, "The second guitarist played his guitar like a Gibson should be played. He made it growl." Like him, I realized I would be purchasing their CD within the set's first few songs. I wanted to keep the feelings of serenity and good humor that the music lent.

The crowd obviously had been looking forward to the show, though only good fortune led me there. They knew the words and sang along. The crowd didn't drown out the vocalist. They were there to hear the band they most likely had been listening to for awhile. There wasn't much dancing (though I and a few others couldn't keep from moving). There were a lot of smiles... and since it was an all ages show there were a lot of sober happy faces. Little talk. A lot of enjoyment.

I decided to purchase Left and Leaving, an album from 2000. I relied on the advice of Ryan Schierling (TIG Photographer Extraordinaire), who originally recommended the show. Listening to the album, I was struck by the lyrics. They're displayed in paragraph form rather than in lines. Reading through them I found they are more similar to small stories or vingettes than poetry. The songs are intelligently put together and startingly funny, despite a tone of sadness thanks to the uplifting guitar and the heartfelt and hopeful voice.

As a fellow newly-Weakerthans-convert noted, "The second guitarist played his guitar like a Gibson should be played. He made it growl."

Pistol for a Paycheck, with Snitches Get Stitches

three imaginary girls — Wed, 06 Aug 2003 07:00:00 +0000

5 Jul 2003

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In keeping with igChar's recommended weekly theme of going to see bands with silly, interesting, or otherwise wacky names, we headed to Graceland the Monday following July 4th weekend to catch two local bands who have been passing our imaginary radar with notable frequency of late: Pistol for a Paycheck and Snitches Get Stitches.

Well, technically we went to half of Graceland. They had the front section (including the bar) closed off due to wet paint...I'm assuming that's what that smell was.

Ok, allow me to rephrase: we headed to Grace on Monday.

No, the front section was closed off, so we went to Land on Monday.

Char, can we talk about the bands now?

Oh, sorry. I'm babbling — must be residual effects of the paint fumes. Basically, we went from ho-hum Monday blah to Rock and Roll stage thrashing in 2.2 seconds once Pistol for a Paycheck took the stage.

I think the fumes affected the bass player {and apparently, my concentration skills}. Even when they weren't playing, he was jumping around doing the happy dance. It's rare when the bass player is the most animated one on stage {and believe me, it's not like the others were exactly stationary...}.

The lead singer looked like he should be skipping along a sidewalk trying to catch the ice cream truck, not fronting a rock and roll band, which made him even more delightful. Especially when his voice was anything but sweet...

I felt like I was watching my cute kid brother or cousins play, it was so intimate {what with fewer than 10 people in Graceland on a Monday night following a holiday weekend and all}, and they were so endearing. That is, endearing in a super rock and roll bad ass adorable male relative sorta way.

It was definitely interesting to note the duality between their obviously sweet demeanors (and faces) and witty stage banter, the driving punk-pop thrash of their music. Could it be possible that they're second CD was really called, Into the Arms of the Mother of Hate? Well, on their web site, they proclaim themselves to be, "Like razorblades in a candy bar!!" So you'd better watch out for these boys...

I got that warm boy-next-door fuzzy feeling too, despite the gorgeously excruciating volume of their music. My favorite thing about this band was there's silence and then there's a song. No prelude, just straight into the rock. No foreplay, no mints on the pillow afterwards. Just RAWK!

Speaking of the rock, Snitches Get Stitches definitely get my vote for most chuckly band name of the moment, what with it conjuring images of Harry Potter sporting events and star-bellied Dr. Seuss characters, it speaks to both my misspent childhood past as well as my inner child nutured by a heavy ongoing diet of JK Rowling. I expected cute, poppy, quirky sounds to emanate from that stage. They sure showed me!

Did you see the part when the drummer had to skootch his drumset back because he was hitting so hard, the set was running away from him? I love it when a band can play their hearts out, even in an empty-ish setting. If they were being reserved because of the crowd size, I'd be scared to see them play a full house. So much energy {double exclamation point}.

While listening, I found myself struck by another Snitches Get Stitches paradox. When I looked at the guys onstage, I saw my friends, my co-workers, that cool guy I see nearly every day at a cafe... I didn't see the annihilation of punk fury that was Snitches Get Stitches!

Oh I know! But I like that. I bet all those guys have quiet sorts of day jobs, so they store their fury and nervous energy up for the show nights, when they can unleash it with a might that nearly knocked our earplugs straight out of our ears!!

They ranked approximately 6.7 ouchie decibels above acceptable imaginary Monday night punk-rock-noise-debauchery level. They blistered so hot, I can't believe the freshly primed and painted Graceland walls didn't dissolve into a sticky smoldering pile of red and black goo. Come to think of it, I might have seen some goo on the floors at Graceland... but that's another story entirely....

Two great band names that sound very, very loud together.

Verona

imaginary char — Mon, 23 Jun 2003 07:00:00 +0000

21 Jun 2003

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By some inexplicable turn of fate, Graceland was freakishly empty on the Saturday night I ventured out from behind my computer to go see Verona.

I arrived early and caught the last couple of songs by the opening band. Kyle Logghe (lead singer) was not only front and center during his set, but he was also front and center in the audience for the opening-"to be reviewed at a later date"-band, Roy. It was local-music-scene-camaraderie at its best. I was flushed with warm fuzzies.

Once I realized I made up one-fifth of the audience, I was a wee-bit frightened there was a music extravaganza happening somewhere else that I was not told about. Possibly reading the bubble over my head, Kyle laughed and stated, "Well, it's not the size of the crowd that counts, it's the quality" before launching into their first song.

Crowded or not, Verona confirmed that Graceland was the place to be. Their music flowed from one beautiful extreme to another; thick, layered guitars were conjoined with deep vocals, which instantaneously changed to aggressive rock guitar and borderline yelling vocals. Which provides me with a perfect segue to Kyle's teeth. Someone get me the name of that boy's dentist because those pearly gems are so gorgeous and white, it hurts — a lot.

By the third song, the five people in the audience had expanded to 30. The drums were surgically precise and unobtrusive. The bass blended the guitars and drums together seamlessly. The second guitar player expertly filled in the musical gaps when Kyle was looking too cute to strum.

Kyle definitely explores the far corners of his vocal abilities. In one song, he chanted like a news broadcaster and then belted out at the least expected moment with his {now trademarked} "K.L. sexy scream®". The only pre-K.L. sexy scream® warning he gave to his audience was his backing up from the microphone a couple of inches {those teeth and he's concerned about his audiences aural health? — what a gem!}. By the end of the set, I found myself hitting my proverbial fork handles on the table and chanting {in my head, of course}, "scream, scream!" Kyle was the only one with a microphone, but was entertaining in his lone stage bantering. After one vocally exhausting song, he stated, "I've already gone through puberty, I should really stop trying to hit that note."

Seek out a Verona show soon, or sign up for their mailing list and receive friendly show updates delivered conveniently in your inbox. Spending 20 minutes with those teeth is well worth the seven-ish dollar investment.

Someone get me the name of that boy's dentist because those pearly gems are so gorgeous and white, it hurts — a lot.

The Dismemberment Plan

Imaginary Luc — Sun, 15 Jun 2003 07:00:00 +0000

12 Jun 2003

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It all started on a dark and stormy night.

The first time I saw the Dismemberment Plan was late 1999, right after the release of Emergency and I. It was one of the best shows I had ever seen and quite possibly still the worst.

When they made it to their tour stop in my small-ish town significantly southwest of Washington D.C., the show's venue turned out to be a dance studio that was trying to turn the tide and start hosting some musical events. The worst part? No shoes were allowed in the studio. Or was the worst part the evening's nasty snow storm that turned to pouring rain. Hmm...

Now insert 150 people who had come with wet feet and freezing hands to hear these kids.

Oh, or was the worst part when DP finally came out to get things started and half of the equipment (from said dance studio) didn't work?

Nope... that was the best part — becAUse after some bizarre electrical work that allowed most of the hookups to work (although the mic line was popping in and out) and some very intense discussion/laughter/break or two, DP determined that it was "all request night" in an attempt to salvage the evening. Sadly, I didn't get too much out of the lyrics that night but the sheer intensity of it was unbelievable.

I review all of that because, four shows and four years later, those guys seem to do whatever it takes to put on a good show — and have a genuinely good time doing it.

Like the first time I saw DP, the Graceland show was also an "all request night" featuring songs primarily from Emergency and I. There were a few from Changes and one from !. As fast paced and story-like as most of their songs are, hats-off to them for even remembering anything from !.

And my favorite best part of the night was when, at the end of the show, I got to hear my favorite question at a DP show - "Where's my pips?" Or was it during "Ice of Boston" when as many people as possible jumped on stage and danced?

These guys have such amazing energy and enthusiasm that you can't help yourself - you have a good time whether you like it or not. I haven't seen such a consistently happy drummer since I saw the drummer for the now-defunct Suitcase playing with his new band.

I could go on and on about this show. At best, I'm mentally rummaging through a night trying to highlight the really great stuff. I forgot some of it and internalized the rest. If you missed the Dismemberment Plan's last show at Graceland, well, you've missed them. They are going to tour on through July in the States, and Europe in August. Then they are done.

Oh and one last thing: the ending of the show. They did a spectrum of Seattle bands cover extravaganza, from The Postal Service to Soundgarden. It was hilarious and relatively well executed and involved even more people on stage — dancing when it was louder, sitting when it was a little quieter, and dancing on monitors with a little pole dancing thrown in for good measure.

And at the very end: me going home quite pleased with myself for having such a good time, also a little sad that it won't happen like that again.