TEN YEAR OLD GIRLFRIEND: CLASS PERSONIFIED.
What I like most about 10 Year Old Girlfriend(or "10YoGF" I guess) is their spirit. Their, ahem, crazy spirit. It reminds me of great, kind of rudimentary but punk-as-fuck stuff like Kleenex, Chin Chin and that vintage of awesome Swiss stuff. They’ve been around for about three years now, I think, and started as Hana and Tom playing tunes on sub-shitty gear at Missoulaparties. The gear is slightly less shitty these days, maybe, and they’ve got an actual drummer (and a Spartan-kit playing Bonzo) in Matt Coté –whom you might remember from Fag Rag, another great Missoula export, but the spirit’s still there.

And don’t mistake “spirit” for some horrible high school thing, like “spirit, spirit. Let’s hear it” or whatever. I mean actually spirited, fun punk rock spirit. Like, let’s go swim in the river. Let’s drink beer. Let’s have fun. That kind of spirit.

So, what’s the deal with the music? Uh, it’s kind of singalong, keyboardy, danceable, good-time, don't care, poppy punk rock. That’s what I think of anyway.

SHAHS ////*there’s no “the” doods\\\

Shahs is Tom Helgerson and Colin Johnson. Can I now safely say they are Missoulians? They came from the Minneapolis motherland, but that was ages ago. …Or it seems that way because Shahs has played everywhere and anywhere the past two-ish years. Their name is constantly plastered all over handbills and show posters around town.

Anyway, Tom has been spreading Shahs’ sound around Missoula and has only recently added his good friend Colin into the mix. Their metro-blended musical cocktail will get you drunk on goooood vibes. Each song is built on a looping of beats made by machine or by mouth and layered with reverberations of delay and distortion pedals. Shahs is like a hip version of calypso or tropicalia that weakens stiff white knees to dancing.

I am a fan of the song St-Gilles from the album Divine Interest. It is super reverbed and atmospheric with lyrics that I am unable to make out. Shahs’ newest LP “Dry Heat/Valley Low” even made it to Josh’s top releases of 2010 list! You really got to hear this for yerself.

Other, more seasoned, bloggers and journalists have written about Tom and Shahs and I encourage you to check those out. I could provide you with endless links to articles and blogs but here are only a few to get you started on researching this interesting character:

@citypages

@pitchfork

@impose magazine

TYSON BALLEW Tasty Local Flavor

Tyson is a Missoula music staple. He is everywhere. Playing music, making art, or playing with his kids. His songs are built with pop chord progressions and layered instrumentation while maintaining an acoustic folk punk sound. His newest album The Escape Artist Kids is Tyson’s punk autobiography of making bands, having big dreams, and being frustrated with the fire marshal’s stance on popular punk venues.
It was recorded at Club Shmed and released on Tyson’s label Tummy Rock. I love the taste of lyrical folk music topped with a punk garnish in my musical diet. Here is a healthy helping of that folk-punk sound you just can’t get enough of.
Check out Tyson’s bandcamp to listen/buy his newest release and also hear his past work here. Explore this talented songwriter's archive and other band releases on his label here.

THE ARRIVALS - JUST IN TIME!

Calling them unapologetic, heartwrenchingly sincere, and goddamn catchy still somehow seems to fall woefully short when trying to describe the Arrivals. Having been around for well over a decade now, these Chicago punks, and especially the more recent record on Todd Congelliere's Recess Records, wear their Clash and Pegboy influences flawlessly by cranking out soulful and intelligent rock'n'roll songs without all the bullshit patriotism and bogus I'm-Americana-Cause-I-Have-A-Mustache garbage that destroys (for me) most modern bands of this sound. Sort of the way Avail made you feel inspired and proud of your hometown, yet didn't try to dispel the idea that employment and social justice is a sickening joke. But don't get me wrong, the Arrivals aren't rehashing working-class rock - they're ripping it a new one that makes London Calling sound fucking boring (yeah, I said it).

Touring all over the damn place this summer, as well as sharing members with the unkillable Dillinger Four, the Arrivals embody the inspirational and emotional power of music. A desperate rallying cry to stay afloat in a sea of "progressive" shit. We here at Total Fest, Inc., LLC, DOA could not possibly be more excited to raise our fists and go completely hoarse when the Arrivals take the stage and send your wimpy, banjo-cuddling butts back to the bar to earn that goofy whiskey voice you've been trying to pair with your ironic hat collection. This is how it's REALLY done, kiddos - take note!

SHARKPACT IS COMING INLAND.

This duo is a powerhouse of loud. They are here to scream about things that matter to them, like the year-old-already-forgotten oil spill in the ocean, working in the service industry and helicopters. Jeff and Camille are best friends and love making music together. Both play with The Hail Seizures, that familiar group of folk-punkers busking throughout the northwest. Sharkpact is a bit different from HS, a little darker, louder and more “plugged-in”. I got a chance to see these two at Le Voyeur in Olympia the other day and I was blown away.

Camille is on the keys and delivers a dark sound, something like a haunted church organ or a creepy dentist’s office. Jeff serves up his brand of energetic percussion ripe with bashing and bass and always with a smile.

I got a few vids on my digital point and shoot camera, the quality stinks but the energy is there and I can’t wait for y’all to see these guys live at Total Fest Ten!

P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S.? YEAH, WE'VE GOT P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S.

The Total Fest bands that I tend to get the most excited about are the ones whose set leaves me drenched in sweat and nursing a massive headache from all the night's head bashing. Somewhat related, I also like to drink whiskey - a lot. So when a band like P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. gets added to the TF lineup I find it somewhat amusing that I can pinpoint an exact time in the future when my brains will feel like they were crammed down a garbage disposal, my body will smell like a rundown distillery, and my face will hurt from the accompanying shiteating grin. These, to me, are the signs of an excellently successful show.

It should come as no surprise at this point that a band as crushing as P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. hails from the only metropolis in the country that I could tolerate living in - Portland. It should also come as no surprise that this band rocks as hard as it does when you take a cursory look at its members. I've seen Kelly Halliburton shred in the obliterating Severed Head of State while being equally commanding behind the drums in your and my favorites, Pierced Arrows. Throw in the fact that Poison Idea's original drummer plays on their more recent EP and you get the fucking idea. Think the Hellacopters without their excessive wankery, or the Supersuckers without the goofy country overtones. Get off the tracks man, this shit will run you the fuck over!

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.