CLARKE AND THE HIMSELFS: LESS IS NOT LESS

If you think for one second that a one-man-band isn't as deserving of respect as your regular guitarist/drummer duo then buddy, you've come to the wrong place. There's a common misconception that single musicians aren't to be taken seriously as say, every other band with two or more members. It's a shame, yeah, but we at Total Fest have been attempting to throw that notion overboard for years. We've featured solo acts like Thrones, Reggie Watts, Greco, Dear Rabbit, that one time Shahs played alone, and plenty more I'm probably forgetting. Killing stupid notions is in our blood so this year, we're proud to present Boise, ID wunderkind Clarke & The Himselfs.

Total Friend and former KBGA Music Director Dane Hansen once compared the dude to something like My Bloody Valentine realized through the production and performance values of rockabilly weirdo Hasil Adkins. I'd agree with that, but throw in that Clarke & The Himselfs also presents this lazy stoner-pop-punk vibe that we've probably last seen with Wavves. It's awesome and it's fun as hell. Don't just take our word for it, Boise's own Built to Spill (heard of 'em?) invited Clarke to join them on one of their most recent tours. He's doing something right and we hear it. You should hear it too. Trust us.

  

DEEP CREEPS CREEPING INTO TOTAL FEST

What do crazy hardcore, mathcore, grindcore, noise rock, garlic, and Boise have in common? Deep Creeps of course. Self-proclaimed "noise creep punk," the trio somehow pulls together all those elements into a 25 minute absolute behemoth of a record. Maybe it's the fact that the drummer is a garlic farmer (I'm not sure why that seems like such a novelty), but there's a rich, organic feel to the record. With all the varying influences and rich orchestration, nothing seems forced or pushed in an unnecessary direction. Quick bursts, guttural vocals, jarring and spastic drums join together with a fuzzy albeit precision driven force that never lets up. Crown Gall is definitely one of my favorite releases from last year.

I've been excited and dreading to announce Deep Creeps because of how difficult they are to categorize. For me, it's like the first time I saw Rorschach, when the tightly orchestrated hardcore sound I had known was completely blown open. Insane chord progressions morphing into those wonderfully raw, dissonant powerviolence bursts of insanity. Seemingly random timing breaks coupled with the intense brevity wrestle with the more sludgy moments of each song. It's a refreshing release that challenges you at each twist and turn. In addition to the garlic connection, the total DIY vibe, my favorite thing about Deep Creeps is Google returns multiple hits for a stuffed anglerfish named Mariana. Everything about their record indicates that Deep Creeps deserve to be experienced live. Hope you're ready, Total World.

MARCH OF ... THE MICROBABIES
Boise is a weird place. Saddled in western Idaho, it looks as if travel to Boise from Missoula should be much easier than travel to, say, Seattle, Portland or Denver. But, it's not. The serpentine drive makes it frighteningly beautiful in the winter, and the darting RVs along the recreation corridors test your patience in the summer. It's a fantastic drive either way, but it never fails to surprise me how long it takes to get there.

Part of me likes it. Maybe only for the PBR mural. Part of me fears its visor-laden populace. But beneath the sterile veneer of Idaho's capitol is a thriving population of artists who don't shy away from holding the slimy into view. In fact, they douse themselves in it.

There's a pleasing amount of irreverence pulsating through Boise's Microbabies. With song titles like Look Whose Taco Trucking and Sex with Jeans AKA Dry Hump, you get a good picture of what to expect. It's an atonal affront that's reminiscent of the playful spurts of the Happy Flowers. Layered and energetic to the point that it almost seems directionless. You like it, and you're sure you know why, but anything you say just doesn't seem to measure up to the music. Microbabies is the band you'll hate yourself for missing, and the album that you'll relish to have in the shit-to-annoy-my-neighbors arsenal (you know, the Sunday after Total Fest when Amstel Light dude decides to mow the lawn at 8am). It's blatant with its disregard for ... well, just about everything.