KITTEN FOREVER PURRS AS THEY EVISCERATE

The most difficult question I'm asked is "who are you stoked on for this year's Total Fest?" Part of me takes offense to the question. I'm stoked for every band who plays each year. The variety and energy of Total Fest's lineups are what drew me to the festival in the first place, what compelled me to offer up my volunteer services, and kept me coming back year after year. It's hard for me to single out a band, almost pointless. That said, one of last year's blow my shoes off performances came at the hands and aggressive vocals of Kitten Forever.

The trio of Corrie, Laura, and Liz offer one of the most powerful, fun, in-your-face, stage presences that I've seen in a long time. For me, there's a definite Mika Miko vibe coming from the telephone mics, the profound, unabashed celebration of femininity, and the vocalizations that come off at once as a conversational, dismissive, snotty, and relentless, I don't give a fuck get out of my face, challenge to everything that stands in their way. Top that off with all three members assuming different roles in the band, seamlessly changing between songs so that the intensity never wanes, and you have everything punk rock wishes it could be. There's an incredible balance between the issues they challenge -- particularly being women in music -- and the infectious, smile inducing tempos of their songs. The lyrics are brilliantly smart and poignant, dismantling and reworking a host of cultural representations, while the swarm of the music dares you to resist its force. Kitten Forever leaves nothing unearthed and pulls out a sick arsenal of drums, bass, and vocals to sledge away at the various cultural structures that have been erected -- either by blind ignorance, choice, or, simply, one-sided history.

Resistance is futile. Join the revolution folks because it's the one thing we have; and, in the end, it's the only meaningfully fun way to go. You attack the world honestly; you leave it honestly ... and you can smile from that knowledge. Get loud little beasts

OH MY! OMOTAI!!

Fresh off their sophmore release, Fresh Hell, Houston's Omotai is poised to continue shredding ear holes and lacerating flesh for years to come.

Let's pause at Houston. I've only been to Houston twice, and, frankly, I hated it. I'm not a fan of Texas, humidity, or restaurants that reply with "there's no need" when I ask about vegetarian options. That said, Houston is also a funky place. It's like a damp Billings or Calagary in some respects. This is all anecdotal, but the bro-petro-testo-sphere never sat well with me. It's an oddly pretty city, though, with a circular skyline, riverwalk, general spaciness, and those pesky Astros. Admittedly, I carry some hefty baggage when I think about Houston, but Omotai stole our collective hearts when they played Total Fest in 2011.

Spend sometime on the interwebs, and you're bound to come across comparisons to Mastadon, Kylesa, etc., but it's short lived for me. The new album breaks away from the stoner-sludge and injects the metal with some hardcore and thrash elements that help twist their songs into something more tangential and twisted than a point-by-point movement through the compositions. There's so many elements mixed in that you can forget you're listening to the same record. Now that they're a four piece, Omotai find more ways to layer each song, mutating into spacey-prog-thrash-thunder-chunky-melodic metal that translates into serene, mouthwatering, bone rattling, addictive funtasticness.

The only live set I've seen of them was a dizzying mess of technical sorcery. It punches you at the right time, leads you when you need it most, and tramples you in a way only a loving stampede could. Stampede may not be fair. There's more deliberateness than blind ferocity; it's ambitious and raucous, and we're pleased as hell to have them back. Prepare to melt.

OBNOX.

Being as omnivorous as Total Fest aspires to be can be a tricky thing because you've got the heavy music dudes for whom the pop, melody and rock and roll is for some weird reason offensive, and the garage nobs who turn nose up at anything not wearing a Levi's jean vest and Ray Bans and a Burger Records shirt, and you know, all the little stuff like that that can bum a guy out. For the most part, however, we really like to think of the average Total Fest attendee like an Adam Noble Bass type. Adam's a Seattlite who has a voracious appetite for music, and I'm sure he's got his favorite stuff, but he's also the kind of guy who can just be straight up stoked about whatever you put in front of him, provided it's done with guts and integrity. Good music has a way of providing some universal language.

So, an announcement like Obnox for us is obviously a pretty special thing because it kind of encapsulates Total Fest's omnivorous vibe in a single, seriously fucking excellent group. Bim Thomas has been playing in great, weird groups for years.  Some of my favorites are the Bassholes and Puffy Aereolas. Here's a decent write up. The music Obnox makes isn't really a fusion deal, no Thai pizza or Italian burrito or whatever. Rather, it's music that comes fully alive with the crud guitar, hard-hit drums, waves of rhythm and certainly some things like hip hop and experimental music, but mostly just one guy's ever changing set of ideas about how to write real music.

I need to credit former KBGA 89.9 FM music director and DJ Dane Hansen for introducing me to Obnox through the playlist at the station, and probably for introducing a burned CDR of about 5 7"s and some records directly into my hand, actually).

Without Dane, no Obnox. Thanks, Dane. Obnox plays Total Fest's opener at the Zootown Arts Community Center on Thursday, August 14.

LENGUAS LARGAS TOCARÁ EN TOTAL FEST.

Lenguas Largas

Tucson is one of those "It's the water" kinds of places for me, like Olympia and Tumwater, like Bellingham, San Pedro and Missoula. It's kind of a second-tier city in terms of size, but extremely fertile where the excellent underground and punk bands are concerned. Of course I kind of default to some of my all-time favorites like the outsider metal of Last of the Juanitas, and the forlorn country of Miss Lana Rebel, but you've also got The Pork Torta (who describe themselves as like E.S.G. and Thin Lizzy), Swing Ding Amigos (a raging fast Latin punk band) Shark Pants and Lenguas Largas in pretty recent memory. What's kind of special about all those groups is how uniquely they each own a sound. So, I attribute that to a town with something going on, and thus the "it's the water..." quote up there.

Lenguas Largas are the band that's playing Total Fest XIII this August, if that got lost up there. And to say I'm excited about that is kind of underplaying the significance of getting Lenguas Largas onto our bill. This band is one of those deeply-marinated in music sets of lifer musician guys, kind of like the Arrivals (who's new group Treasure Fleet is also playing) a couple of years ago. They just exude great tunes and play with the kind of shared band DNA that only comes with a longer commitment. They're part of the Recess tour with the Underground Railroad to Candyland and Treasure Fleet and White Night. Isaac Reyes from Swing Ding Amigos sings and plays guitar in Lenguas Largas, and he's got one of those super memorable voices and styles, like Todd Congelliere and David Merriman, Isaac Thotz that just helps you have a good day, regardless of what might have happened. I'll be up front for this. (Josh Vanek)


 

PANCAKES. PANCAKES. PANCAKES.

I've been a fan of Mikki "internet" Lunda's bands since the shreeks and hammering on sheet metal of Knot Knocked Up about... 8 or 9 years ago. Few bands have driven people from a room like Knot Knocked Up. They made Teenage Jesus seem like a pretty band in lots of ways. Since then, Mikki's had (at least) Fag Rag, Needlecraft and now this group called Pancakes.

If you listen to that set of bands, it's noticeable how much much prettier and melodic her tunes have gotten over time. And that's not to say the music's become commercial, it's just that in the scheme of things, you wouldn't really have picked Mikki from Knot Knocked Up to be in Pancakes. Which is what it is, you know, but I just kind of like that fact.

Part of what's nice about Mikki's approach to making art is that she takes it on the road regularly, and gets the importance of playing for people outside of Missoula. But likewise she's rooted here, has friends and family and works at a good place, and as far as we know, she doesn't have the urge to move away from Missoula, with its perennial young person swap meet vibe and all the rest of our town's bummer aspects. Uh, yeah. But what's the do with Pancakes? Well, it's pretty rooted in 80s technology and that kind of generic 808 drum machine + keyboards deal permeates their jamz. Their absolute hit is called Mutual Ex-Boyfriend. It's a fucking gem of a tune and were they an LA band it might easily have done some time on KROQ, bro. 

DEAR, DEAR RABBIT

Dear Rabbit is the one man band of Rence Liam. The music is timeless, his voice bombastic. The lyrics can be sweet, sad and fun. It's hard for me to put into a descriptive phrase, because it is truly unique and beautiful. And he can play the accordion and trumpet at the same time. Highly impressive. 

Dear Rabbit has been on tour for most of the 3 years I've known him. He is the kind of prolific touring musician I wish I could be. He even made the best of it when he got trapped here during our crazy blizzard this winter, playing 6 shows in 5 days.I'm so excited to have Rence join us for Total Fest XIII. I never get sick of seeing him play and always look forward to hearing what new songs he has to share with us.

Fuckin' snow.

Mikki"internet"Lunda

GLITTER+GRINDING= J SHERRI

The most important thing you need to know about j sherri is; you will want to smoke a blunt and make-out with who ever is around after you see them play. I always do, so come prepared.
j sherri is HOT. I feel almost like a proud aunt announcing their addition to the Total Fest XIII line up. Because Baby, this band has come a long way. They've lost and added members in the last year, rolled with the punches and come out standing solid.
 .

Depending on the night/their mood/the show/who's in the band, they can have a completely different sound. Something I'm not sure they realize is a skill most musicians in our peer group would love to have(I'm projecting).
j sherri isn't afraid to try new things/new songs/new instruments. Even if it's for the 1st time and in front of an audience. For that, I admire their BALLZ.
 
Mikki"internet"Lunda

NERVE BEATS TOY WITH THE THREAD

Any band that has an artist manifesto is something to pay attention to in my book. Maybe you're familiar with Han Bennink and maybe you're not (and if these cats didn't smuggle their band name from his gem, I'm a bigger idiot than I think I am), but his musical compositions always tickle me. There's an odd comfort to his solipsism.

Hawaii's Nerve Beats challenge self-imposed limitations, massaging out some percussion based odysseys that, for my money, offer a musical equivalent to a Borges short or a Benjamin essay: structure is acknowledged only to upend it in the margins and hidden spaces.

Too much?

Perhaps, but the Mike Watt styling reworked with a beatnik (in a good way) experimentation serves up some deliciousness. I like the word succulent. I don't use it often enough, but the connotations are brilliant. Nerve Beats are ripe with temptation -- an absolute reservoir of tonality. Moist and juicy, their recordings experiment with every configuration one can compile given the horizons they erect. The game, however, isn't fixed as, with any horizon, it shifts as you move within it. Decidedly minimalist in their approach, Nerve Beats tease out enough possibility that proves the rule that the contradictions exist within the structure. Deconstruction is a heavy term, riddled with enough baggage to keep you perpetually cycling through a Kafka-esque dreamscape. The joy, however, has always been when the system outruns its limits, when theory can't keep up with practice. Behold, a rupture! The static becomes dynamic; the minimal becomes complex; the familiar becomes strange.

Or something.

It's an impressive undertaking, and, to my mind, Nerve Beats not only accomplish what they set out to do but also rework the notion of progression by swaddling it in repetition. Utilizing jazz concepts is a tricky dance, but these cats find a way to center it while not appearing to control its development. Sure, one can argue, they allow the rules of the game to actuate the result, but the details of the journey are what piece together the narrative. It's succinct, disjointed symmetry that uses all the tools of concision against itself. 

PEACE CREEP: A CAREFUL ASSEMBLAGE OF DISPARITY

Do you remember when Triclops! played Total Fest VII? They're one of my all time favorite acts. It was strange and somehow accomplished merging punk and prog into something that worked beyond belief. That album still sits as part of my monthly rotation. It was a bummer when they called it quits, but out of those ashes formed Peace Creep. Although the sound is fairly different, it's equally successful. They describe their sound in a series of playful hypotheticals: "WHAT IF Neil Young were on SST records wearing a dress onstage while playing Meat Puppets/Dinosaur Jr/SNFU covers. WHAT IF Hawkwind/Husker Du decided it would boost each other's careers to do songwriter workshops in tropical locations. WHAT IF San Francisco was still really cheap to live in and Hickey, Jerry Garcia, Gary Floyd and Steel Pole Bathtub all shared a practice space and recorded everything, " Peace Creep covers that ground as well as a vast array of terrain that feels more like a frantic, crack fueled Johnny Appleseed reaping his rewards than any itinerary with a planned return trip. There are landmarks, but everything is so blurry and frenzied that all you can do is hold on and hope that the landscape stabilizes just enough that you gain a vague sense of orientation.

They're long time rockers with a few excellent projects, in addition to Triclops!, under their belts (Anywhere, Pins of Light, and Bottles And Skulls to name a few) and recently released a record on Alternative Tentacles (a small label you may have heard of). It's an exuberant and thoughtful affair that exploits the raw energy of punk while mixing in psychedelic overtones, a banquet of guitar riffs, and enough sludge filled tempos to keep you happy and wanting more. I've only been stalked by a mountain lion once, and it was one of the most disorienting feelings I've ever had. Circling across the trail, lurking in the early evening shadows, appearing to keep its distance as it closed ground. I'm not saying Peace Creep establishes a predator / prey relationship, but their songs keep you on your toes, guiding you into the oblivion of shared experiences that shatter your locus of perception. The uncertainty is wonderful once you're not eviscerated and you find the comfort of something familiar. In a way, Peace Creep uses music to offer up a series of questions and decidedly refuses to provide answers, challenging you to fill in the gaps to determine what it is you've actually witnessed. There's a moment of rage involved when you fail to sculpt meaning, but it's also a welcome reconfiguration of the boundaries you erect. Stability is a proven facade, and Peace Creep assaults it with a polymorphous zeal that dismantles the scaffolding.

DARTO IS BLOOMING EVERY WHICH WAY (AND INTO TOTAL FEST XIII)

If the media is to be trusted, there are approximately seventeen adjectives commonly used to describe musics of the heavy variety. In the interest of space I'm not going to list them all here, but you can guess which ones are the main offenders: punishing, brutal, chaotic, unhinged, sick, fucking sick (to my knowledge, these are separate designations), pummeling, etc. So many little harmless words associated with violence and oppression. Terrified I am--and no doubt you are as well! Wild times, friends.

Darto is a band from Seattle that plays music of the heavy variety--and since I am tasked with writing about them, I insist on refraining from using any of the above words to describe their particular heaviness. Yes, their jams run the gamut between sick and fucking sick, but why roll in this gutter? Why feed from this trough if these vegetable-scraps are ripe for the compost? If I may invoke a lyric from the ever-quotable Lou Reed: Vicious, you hit me with a flower.

Now imagine that flower while listening to the song posted below. Imagine its colors, the shape of its petals, what kind of deadly allergens are eagerly waiting to pummel your sinuses--and brutally pummel at that. "Boiler" brings to mind a slew of comparisons, and all of them excite: I hear a little Jesus Lizard under hypnosis, Unwound on one helluva tear, Lungfish if you were listening to them through a pair of great sounding, broken headphones. Darto doesn't indulge the heaviness common in certain strains of metal so much as they amplify and update strains of the nineties' favorite post-genres--rock and hardcore, natch--in a way that sounds forward-thinking in any decade (including, but especially ours).

I like this flower; I think that I love this flower. I've not only considered buying a potted version of this flower, but I want to pick up a packet of seeds so I can plant an entire garden of these COMPLETELY UNHINGED, PUNISHINGLY BRUTAL flowers next summer. Until then, we get to enjoy this beguiling, highly nuanced, intricate and intelligent flower this summer at Total Fest XIII.

WOLF EYES.

Wolf Eyes

"Well... noise has had an adverse effect on both mine and my son’s life... in fact my house almost burnt down because of it. Besides that episode, there has also been blown speakers on my new stereo, my dog has taken to hiding when my son is home, and my daughter Ella cried all of last halloween because the sounds reminded her of those that emanate from my son’s room!”
~ A concerned mother on noise

Life is hard, Wolf Eyes make it harder and can compromise lives.  On the night of March 23, 2006, a young man named Brandon Peek (fmr bassist for The Switch Hitters & Aristotle Cling) was returning home from a Wolf Eyes gig at The Hemlock in SF, still reeling and confused from the pounding sonic frequencies, Peek armed with an armful of Wolf Eyes merch walked into oncoming traffic and spent the next 6 months learning how to walk and read again.  Peek’s mother: Linish Peek (fmr guitarist for True Cannibals, Viral Citizen & Cake Tastes So Good) had started the group Mothers Against Noise in retaliation. http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Mothers_Against_Noise 

Mrs. Peek spearheaded a world-wide movement and gained the support from various right-wing groups (Gun Prophets, American Standers, God For Citizenship and right-wing radio host: U.S. Connie – who was the fmr drummer of No Duh).  Mothers Against Noise gained enough notoriety and collaborated with the Mningles Law Group and petitioned that the term and use of “Noise” be abolished.  After $2.4 million dollars was spent, a 7 year tarnish campaign, they got their wish.  At an October 20, 2013 official statement, Wolf Eyes member John Olson (fmr Rendering Suns drummer) proclaimed: “NOISE IS DEAD” and thus the newly named genre: Trip Metal was born.  Wolf Eyes, by law, are never allowed to use the word “Noise” for any promotional or music release purposes with the prospect of facing 5 years in jail or $50,000 in fines. 

Zombie Tools

Wolf Eyes: Nate Young, John Olson and the new dude they call Crazy Jim hold the keys to the Total Fest ignition.  They anger and confuse lot of folks considering Trip Metal activates compulsion in your brain and senses; kinda like nosing around a car crash or the desire to stop and watch a dog take a dump. There’s no point in the barrage of metaphors to describe the Wolf Eyes style of “music”, it’s all about taking a stand, back against the wall and the short moment of anticipation from closing your eyes and knowing that out of nowhere, within seconds, you will get punched in the face.  It’s about deactivation as well, tossing out the concept of structure and forgetting about verse/chorus/verse and embracing the uncertainty.  It’s about crossing over to the dark side, allowing to let go of coherency and accepting the fact that things and perceptions will never be the same again.  So, fuck it.  Everything is a mess anyway, your shell is cracked and there’s not much that looks good on the horizon – toss on a fresh new coat of nihilism, burn some books, shave yr head, get that HATER4LYFE tattoo – do what you gotta do.  Just know that when the shit comes down and nothing ever makes sense anymore, Wolf Eyes does/will make all the goddamned sense in the world just when you need it.  Trust me cuz when those dudes plug in all their weird shit and let the frequencies fly - I will be ruling that motherfucking pit.  - Rammer

(Vanek here) We'd also like to draw some attention to a big Total Fest sponsor: Zombie Tools who have been making their expertly designed blades for years now, and supporting Total Fest for a good number of 'em. It's in large part to Zombie Tools support for underground music that Total Fest gets to bring Wolf Eyes, so slap Maxon, Chris and the dudes there on the back next time you see 'em.

EX NUNS: ALL GRIT, NO HABIT

Photo by Bronson Karaff

Perhaps my favorite attempt at summarizing Minneapolis's Ex Nuns is Courtney Bade's straight forward statement, "They’re real loud and they’ve got some big fucking amps." There's something in the Minneapolis

water because that city keeps churning out stellar, ass kicking band after band. I'm no expert on what they have going on there, but I've yet to be introduced to a band that doesn't straight up slay. It's mind boggling. This isn't some the grass is greener lament, but holy shit it's a little enviable. Not that trading out the serene confines of our little valley is an option, but the anger and grit of what's been streaming out of the lake ensconced city is something to relish.

Almost every review, write-up, tweet, and scratched bathroom wall regarding Ex-Nuns spends time wrestling with what genre they fit in. Psych, metal, punk, post-punk, noise, and shoegaze are peppered throughout, hoping that one will serve as a compass for the wary reader. It doesn't work. What does work is listening to their records and say, "To hell with it. This rips." It's fantastic, storm-blazing, raw fierceness that refuses to compromise. The songs are rooted in hardcore tempos but take time to develop. Pop-oriented melodies are drowned and stretched out by pleasantly grating feedback. Purposefully timed and washed out vocals position Ex-Nuns as some reckless, time traveling, space devouring inferno. (If you parse that, I swear it means something awesome).

You know the transformation of Angel to Death to Archangel ... well, that's kind of where my head goes or to some Icarus style hubris that finally succeeds. No gods. No masters.

For me, their songs produce vivid pictures out of blurry lines and nondescript shapes. There's an awesome story telling ability to their songs that aggressively evolves as it funnels deeper and deeper. They just released a sweet EP, Death Triangle, and seem to be poised to take off. It's slightly different than last year's 25 Diamonds release, but if this is the type of movement these dude's can do in a year, we're in for a raucous ride.

ANIMAL LOVER IS ONE FEROCIOUS BEAST

Photo by Bronson Karaff

I can honestly say that one of my most anticipated releases this year is Animal Lover's Learning Curve Records debut, Guilt.

Three years in the making, it doesn't disappoint.

I'll wait while you give it a listen.

Animal Lover was one of my top memories from last year, and I'm stoked as hell that they're coming back this year. They're a hard band to pin down. Backed by a strong DIY ethic, Addison, Nathan, and Evan have resurrected a sludge, noise, punk whirlwind that's reminiscent of all the good things about AmRep. It's not, however, a straight forward slug fest. There's a wonderful subtlety to them that haunts their consistent, droning, plodding, shredding, shrieking, bristling tempo. It's awash in pent up, tense frustration, boiling right up to the point of exploding but maintaining a simmering angst. Every time I listen to their records, I experience some weird, lingering, stinging bitterness. It's not like they've left me unfulfilled or that somehow the songs miss their mark; it points more to the unrelenting intensity of each song. Animal Lover sticks in your teeth constantly reminding you that the world is unclean and no matter what pretense or posture you harbor, life is a dirty mess. Animal Lover screams at you to wake up, to not take things for granted, and to bask in the relentless turmoil of chaos.

Well, at least that's where I end up.

There's nothing that sparks my interest more than a band who slogs through the tireless work of touring, recording, and playing and still finds ways to be inventive and to maintain their intensity. Throw in the fact that they're some super awesome guys who seem to collaborate on everything, their unique, solid sound is something that shouldn't be overlooked. Sadly, bands come and go, but I'm holding out hope that Animal Lover will play for my kids one day. Vibrancy is a gift.

MEMBERS ONLY: THE SEDIMENT CLUB

No wave, noise band The Sediment Club is as amorphous as where they call home. From the "general North East area," they are one of the happiest things I've stumbled upon in a while. Appropriating a host of influences, The Sediment Club maneuvers through a seeming time warp of uneasy, tenuous, distorted tunes that bring to mind the avant-garde caterwaul of joy that is the No NewYork compilation. That said, it's not some tired Weekend at Bernie's retooling of what's come before them. Jackie, Austin, and Lazar find a way to make it new and relevant, leaping from part to part, restructuring and reconfiguring the sonic landscape while never feeling presumptuous or unnecessary.  

Missoula is a long way from the general North East, but I shot Austin an email on a whim, thinking we'd receive the usual response from bands east of the Mississippi: "that sounds awesome, but that's too far of a trek for us. maybe next year." I was tickled to find out that they were planning a tour out west and that Total Fest fit perfectly into their travels. To my mind, we don't get enough of the weird or the off center here. There's a running joke among those who listen to noise music in Missoula that involves the ratio of attendees to band members. If you want to hear the joke, you'll have to come out to the next noise show.

Back to The Sediment Club. The mayhem of their songs is jazz fueled elation combined with enough anticipatory abrasiveness and innovation that remind me of Robert Rauschenberg's combines. Structures fall apart. Processes reveal themselves into cohesive rhythms that are far greater than the sum of their parts. It's a personal journey through subjective thought experiments, hurdling with anxious energy and strained expectations. The Sediment Club possesses compelling dexterity that is sobering in its efficacy. They're attentive to every detail, to every orchestrated deconstruction. It's flat out slippery and disorienting. Each song feels as if you're forced to scratch out another path, lurching forward in vain attempts to reconcile the no longer with the not yet. Ever present and bordering on subconscious conversations, The Sediment Club is infectious with their energy and intensity. At times mournful but always challenging and explosive, their recordings are a testament to their tireless, hard work in crafting a sound that attempts to mimic the primal ooze of feelings that sit at our core.

B and the Electric Kill - The Sediment Club from Alessandra Hoshor on Vimeo.

ED SHRADER'S MUSIC BEAT PROTHELYTIZES THE BEGINNING

Let's be honest, Ed Shrader's MusicBeat is awesome. Part performance art, part ground razing minimalism, part resurrection, part anarcho-aggression, Ed and Devlin induce some of the most bristling, sweat-inducing, drum driven songs that strip everything down to their most malleable and fluid parts.

Yeah, adjectives.

Bear with me: I like to envision ESMB as some psycho-revivalist who eschews tents in the middle of the bible belt for any legitimate PA they can find. Once plugged in, Ed and Devlin proceed to perform miracle after miracle, offer you the face of whatever being you think exists beyond you, and then drench it in chaos. It's palpable but insufferably indescribable. The chanting rhythms, uninhibited angst, and wonderfully tongue-in-cheek subtlety challenge you to let go of what you hold dear. Guitars? Who needs them? It's a crazy construction that threatens to devolve into unrelated, illusory corollaries, but somehow retains its center and discharges something close to 1980 Mt. St. Helens or the immanent event of the Yellowstone caldera.

Shit is crazy, heavy is what I'm saying.

I like music that challenges me, that pushes me to new places, that forces me to question what's what in the sacred ground of DIY punk, but also makes me feel alive, strips me of complacency, and shoulders me with anxiety. Additionally, I want music to reciprocally challenge itself and the ground it rests on at the same time. Disappointment only exists when we have expectations; things that strip away our ability to frame it and to define it allow us to roll with it and to enjoy the odd juxtapositions it erects: a sublime proliferation of sonic matter.

So there. Ed Shrader's Music Beat brings their feverish, echoes to Missoula this year. You know that scene in the Sorcerer's Apprentice when syncopated chaos is arrested by salvation? Not here. There's no nostalgia, no reckoning force, no powerful overseer to shepherd you into tranquility. And that's how we like it: raw, driving, experimenting, maneuvering relentless fun. Beyond definition.

Ed Schrader's Music Beat from GONZO CHICAGO on Vimeo.

(THE) DREAMSALON.... THEY LIVE INSIDE OF MY HEAD

Thankfully Dreamsalon are nothing like Cheap Trick. What they are like is one great-ass band with three dudes who've been in some of our favorite bands of the past ten or so years. Min Yee was in A-Frames, and also Le Sang Song, I think. Matt Ford was in Factums and some version of the Intelligence. Craig Chambers was in the Lights, who for years did there thing pretty quietly from Seattle, while touring with Oneida, the Obits and regularly charting on KEXP and cetera.

Dreamsalon is, in my mind at least, a continuation of Craig's post-Lights output (Le Sang Song, Love Tan and this, I think) and their 2013 LP "Thirteen Nights" made our end of year list for being so goddamn good. Dane Hansen, from whom I know about Dreamsalon, wrote a good piece for the Montana Kaimin, we're gonna include it here verbatim, because I think he captures it:

"Gothic script, gold lettering, dim lighting and tired eyes: the cover of the debut from Dreamsalon hints at some of the truisms of life in the Pacific Northwest: the winters are long, cloudy and either rainy or snowy, depending on your location. Poverty drives artists indoors, where our skin becomes pasty and our minds turn to mush, while we anxiously await easy summer living. It’s not hard to imagine some similarities between us and the Ice-Age cave painters at Lascaux, huddled away from the wet and cold for unreasonably boring, long periods. Any form of creative output becomes an exercise in retaining health and sanity.

Which is not to say that Dreamsalon remotely resembles anything healthy or sane, nor does anything from their scene. Hailing from other brain-scrambled Seattle groups like A-Frames, Factums, and the Lights, Dreamsalons’ members have honed into composing cavern-bop hits. Guitarist Craig Chambers’ signature guitar riffs seemingly work both backward and forward in a hypnotic loop, a trick he’s learned through countless hours of screwing around with home-recording, vinyl hoarding and a healthy Michael Yonkers obsession. Every tone and utterance by Chambers is run through some sort of echo-y delay, resonating into a wild, haunted feeling.

The discipline factor of Matthew Ford and Min Yee keeps things in a more recognizable garage form, albeit a grungy, repetitive one. (Ford and Chambers previous collaboration, "Love Tan" is more like noise-induced sex-mania than rock’n’roll). The two sometimes play off each other in a galloping, fool-of-fortune way, like on the dreamy, tropical tracks “In the Air,” and “Splits,” but are equally capable of setting the stage for really sinister, inky-black weirdness like the quintessential creep-out sessions “On the Bus,” and “Every Man, Woman, and Child.”

THE BUGS ARE TOTAL

The Bugs, picture by Sachiko Arakawa

The Bugs new record is called "The Right Time" and I helped to put it out along with X-Mist in Germany and the band themselves. If you want one, there's a little bit of the first pressing available here or from the band as they tour the west coast. We printed the covers at Garage Tees, a long time Total Fest sponsor and great print shop. It's been on repeat around here since we got the tape version of it when they toured through last fall. Pretty much everything the Bugs touch is gold as far as I'm concerned. They've got the raw emotional stuff, they've got the humor and they've got the realness sometimes punk rock wants for.

I first saw the Bugs in around 2003 or so, I think. They were on tour and stopped into Missoula during a cold snap. They played a set at a Barnburner festival at Marshall Mountain, in a tent scented with propane fumes and with few folks in attendance, right after Volumen. None of that adversity seemed to phase them, nor did they really seem to notice. They just blasted out a 23 minute set of about 10 great songs, got off the stage, then we probably went to buy some beer.

Recently when Red Fang did a video release show, they invited the Bugs to play, and hopped up on stage and did a handful of Bugs covers.

Q: WHAT IS IT THAT YOU LACK? A: WIMPS!

Seattle's Wimps attack the banality of existence with a serrated party knife, leaving all the various sinews and tendons sprawled out on the floor.

Bored with life? Swimming in the cold sweat of ennui? Eat it.

Wimps drums up a pop-filled, dance party that presses up against the mundane bullshit of paying bills, waking up, working lame jobs, hangovers, unemployment, laundry, saying hello. Featuring members from The Intelligence, Consignment, Meth Teeth, Butts and Partman Parthorse, Wimps run through a host of short, punk driven songs with distinct guitar, catchy vocals, and just enough playful bitterness that it can be easy to miss the serious affirmation of living. Try as we might, we have to wake up sometime. The curtains have to be opened. The trivial provides us with compelling narratives and moments of joy that, if we fail to acknowledge the absurdity of it all, drive us to dark, negating spaces rather than basking in the hysterical, exuberant joy of taking a breath or catching someone shitting in the alley. Wimps find a perfect balance between self awareness and raw, punk desolation. Their songs are short, ear-blistering, pop-infused, middle-finger acts of defiance. Like our favorite scrivener, Bartleby, they prefer not to; unlike him, Wimps devours the world in satiating bliss.

Party at the wrong time? Well, things could be worse.

GRECO: THE INVENTOR OF COOL

Ok. Honestly, I don't want to play favorites, but I'm about to. Greco is one of the performances I'm most excited to see at Total Fest this year. Greco is the solo synth-pop project of Flagstaff, AZ music legend, Chris Greco. When we met, he was concerned I didn't get what he was going for. 
Trust me Greco, I get it. I really get it.

His album, Denim Don't Dry, is what kept me pumped our entire tour last year. Anytime we were stuck in traffic, it was an unspoken rule that we would listen to, and sing along with Greco. From the first time I heard my favorite track, uhh, I knew I had to get Greco to Missoula.
If you're into people who are into themselves, this is a band you'll love. If I've ever given you a ride, chances are, we've listened to this.
   -Mikki 'internet' Lunda

WHITE NIGHT WHITE HEAT

Adrian Discipulo Photography

Fullerton's White Night  is one of those bands that baffles me a bit. That's not a knock in any way. They're straight up stellar, good-time punk that makes you taste the air. I (welcomely) take some flack for defining bands in the negative, or, to say it another way for positioning bands I like against bands that, for one reason or another, folks like and pump out $20 for a two band bill and continue to buy tired and trite record after record. Straw man or not, I'll not do that here. Well ... at least, I will not call out names or point fingers at those "punk" labels that cookie cut their way through merch sales. What White Night gets right is that punk is about merging the serious with the silly, jettisoning constricting genre categories, embracing the dirty rawness, and celebrating all the people and experiences that come with it.

Take their most recent release, Prophets ov Templum CDX, for example. It's a strange ass record, incorporating a few decades worth of sounds into two-minute (give or take) meandering blasts of sweetness. Backed by a solid pedigree of musicians, White Night feels like they're always evolving, always moving in and out of spaces that are familiar and comforting but choreographed in such a way that it catches you off guard, forcing you to catch up before the next shift. It's a dynamic approach that never feels forced or cobbled. Coming from someone who gravitates toward the atonal and affronting drones, White Night gives me pause. In a way, they make me take stock on how my tastes have shifted and remind me of the quiet joy of watching Neil Blender carve around for hours. Yeah, sure, there's some nostalgia plunking me in the back of the head, but White Night is never stale, never trite, never complacent. So dig it, Total Folks, they're coming to Missoula  in August with a small contingent of Recess bands, and we'll all be better for it.