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Gonzo Report: A mad mess of bands and books at Tower Bar
The groups wear each other's shirts as a sign of support
Savage and the Witch are not The White Stripes
The man with lemur hands is being mindful about touching anything. It’s not because his hands are actually lemurian; it's because he’s just exited the men’s room at the Tower Bar, which is bereft of paper towels. So he’s drip drying, wrists limp and fingers like paws, reminding me of a lemur. I know for a fact that there’s a hand dryer in there, but I also know that it just blows the stench around. Really, I’m impressed that he bothered to wash his hands after using the facilities. Regardless of activity level, most male members are probably cleaner than San Diego’s answer to the CBGB lavatories.
What the bar lacks in bathroom cleanliness, it makes up for in the character of its clientele and diversity of the music it presents — factors which go hand in hand. Tonight’s four-act bill couldn’t be any more different on paper, but in person, F Plus, Creampie, Savage and the Witch along with L.A. headliners Neverland Ranch Davidians, meld well, the common thread being their unique approaches. Most of the bands feature untraditional instrumentation as part of their sound — meaning, the absence of an expected player. With F Plus, there’s no a guitarist, but bassist Tom Lord (Ohcult, Bosswitch, Owl Be Damned) and drummer Darrin Lee (Tragic Tantrum, Roxy Jones, Low and be Told) make that irrelevant as they go through a set that’s both heavy and melodic, crushing riffs segueing into the chorus of Nirvana’s “Rape Me” without a hitch. Lord’s technique reminds me of Metallica’s Cliff Burton — though he tells me later it was Primus that changed his life. When we talk, I note that drummer Lee has shed his stage jumpsuit — both musicians wear them as a tribute to producer Steve Albini — in favor of a Savage and the Witch tee, a measure of support that other bands will adopt throughout the evening.
Creampie has a bass player, and it takes someone pointing it out for me to realize that he’s Josh Ravin, the singer for Doc Hammer. I’m used to seeing him running into the crowd in that role; here, his energy is unchanged even though he stays onstage while singer Shayna Zeigen provides the vocals and crowd-stirring. They call themselves “stoner rock” on Instagram, but I’ve never experienced that level of aggression from the devil’s lettuce. They're not really comparable to anyone: there’s a Rage Against the Machine punch, and they end their set with “What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blondes, supercharging but retaining the melody simultaneously and leading to a spontaneous sing-along.
I catch Zeigen between congrats from other band members and fans long enough to tell her that safe search should be on when web-searching her band. She laughs and says that happens a lot. At intermission, I hear Tex Mosely of Neverland Ranch Davidians tell a friend they can have his drink tickets. I nosily ask him why, and he tells me he hasn’t touched a drop in over two decades. He shares his moment of clarity: David Bowie’s perpetual reinvention, the shedding of skin that didn’t work for him anymore. It’s a cool feeling to know I’m not the only one in the bar who's in recovery.
Inside, Savage and the Witch are proving that, despite their being a couple and their band consisting of a guitarist/singer and drummer, they are not remotely The White Stripes. Singer Amy Kay sounds more demon than witch, and drummer Kevin Savage plays as explosively as any death metal drummer I’ve heard. I tell them I experienced the same enthusiasm during their set as I got when I heard At the Gates’ “Slaughter of the Soul” for the first time. Given Gates’ proximity to the grindcore scene, I shouldn't be suprised when Savage doesn’t miss a beat, recommending Genestealer, a local band with whom they share a practice space. It’s their cassette release party, and I look forward to playing air bass to the tape just as much as I do reading the accompanying ‘zine, which Kay designed.
The crowd thins when Davidians play, but there’s still plenty of people to experience the venue turning into a juke joint from hell as the band Iggy Pop champions shows the crowd that bass players aren’t always necessary. From what I can tell, most of the members from the previous bands have stayed to support Tex and company’s first show in San Diego. It’s what makes this venue so fucking cool.
The post-show chatter ends with a brief mention of books. Specifically, Caliban and the Witch by Silvia Frederici, a tome of challenging feminist Marxism. I think. Kay explains it better; days, she works as a lecturer on Latin American studies at UCSD. Now I'm really keen on the 'zine. The mention of literature sets off an enthusiastic discussion with Zeigen and Kay about Yanagihara and Atwood, and we end the night with book recommendations for all, and perhaps a band name.
New bands, new books, new T-shirts, a new cassette and new vinyl combine to send me home on a natural high.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: A mad mess of bands and books at Tower Bar
The groups wear each other's shirts as a sign of support
Gonzo Report: A mad mess of bands and books at Tower Bar
The groups wear each other's shirts as a sign of support
Savage and the Witch are not The White Stripes
The man with lemur hands is being mindful about touching anything. It’s not because his hands are actually lemurian; it's because he’s just exited the men’s room at the Tower Bar, which is bereft of paper towels. So he’s drip drying, wrists limp and fingers like paws, reminding me of a lemur. I know for a fact that there’s a hand dryer in there, but I also know that it just blows the stench around. Really, I’m impressed that he bothered to wash his hands after using the facilities. Regardless of activity level, most male members are probably cleaner than San Diego’s answer to the CBGB lavatories.
What the bar lacks in bathroom cleanliness, it makes up for in the character of its clientele and diversity of the music it presents — factors which go hand in hand. Tonight’s four-act bill couldn’t be any more different on paper, but in person, F Plus, Creampie, Savage and the Witch along with L.A. headliners Neverland Ranch Davidians, meld well, the common thread being their unique approaches. Most of the bands feature untraditional instrumentation as part of their sound — meaning, the absence of an expected player. With F Plus, there’s no a guitarist, but bassist Tom Lord (Ohcult, Bosswitch, Owl Be Damned) and drummer Darrin Lee (Tragic Tantrum, Roxy Jones, Low and be Told) make that irrelevant as they go through a set that’s both heavy and melodic, crushing riffs segueing into the chorus of Nirvana’s “Rape Me” without a hitch. Lord’s technique reminds me of Metallica’s Cliff Burton — though he tells me later it was Primus that changed his life. When we talk, I note that drummer Lee has shed his stage jumpsuit — both musicians wear them as a tribute to producer Steve Albini — in favor of a Savage and the Witch tee, a measure of support that other bands will adopt throughout the evening.
Creampie has a bass player, and it takes someone pointing it out for me to realize that he’s Josh Ravin, the singer for Doc Hammer. I’m used to seeing him running into the crowd in that role; here, his energy is unchanged even though he stays onstage while singer Shayna Zeigen provides the vocals and crowd-stirring. They call themselves “stoner rock” on Instagram, but I’ve never experienced that level of aggression from the devil’s lettuce. They're not really comparable to anyone: there’s a Rage Against the Machine punch, and they end their set with “What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blondes, supercharging but retaining the melody simultaneously and leading to a spontaneous sing-along.
I catch Zeigen between congrats from other band members and fans long enough to tell her that safe search should be on when web-searching her band. She laughs and says that happens a lot. At intermission, I hear Tex Mosely of Neverland Ranch Davidians tell a friend they can have his drink tickets. I nosily ask him why, and he tells me he hasn’t touched a drop in over two decades. He shares his moment of clarity: David Bowie’s perpetual reinvention, the shedding of skin that didn’t work for him anymore. It’s a cool feeling to know I’m not the only one in the bar who's in recovery.
Inside, Savage and the Witch are proving that, despite their being a couple and their band consisting of a guitarist/singer and drummer, they are not remotely The White Stripes. Singer Amy Kay sounds more demon than witch, and drummer Kevin Savage plays as explosively as any death metal drummer I’ve heard. I tell them I experienced the same enthusiasm during their set as I got when I heard At the Gates’ “Slaughter of the Soul” for the first time. Given Gates’ proximity to the grindcore scene, I shouldn't be suprised when Savage doesn’t miss a beat, recommending Genestealer, a local band with whom they share a practice space. It’s their cassette release party, and I look forward to playing air bass to the tape just as much as I do reading the accompanying ‘zine, which Kay designed.
The crowd thins when Davidians play, but there’s still plenty of people to experience the venue turning into a juke joint from hell as the band Iggy Pop champions shows the crowd that bass players aren’t always necessary. From what I can tell, most of the members from the previous bands have stayed to support Tex and company’s first show in San Diego. It’s what makes this venue so fucking cool.
The post-show chatter ends with a brief mention of books. Specifically, Caliban and the Witch by Silvia Frederici, a tome of challenging feminist Marxism. I think. Kay explains it better; days, she works as a lecturer on Latin American studies at UCSD. Now I'm really keen on the 'zine. The mention of literature sets off an enthusiastic discussion with Zeigen and Kay about Yanagihara and Atwood, and we end the night with book recommendations for all, and perhaps a band name.
New bands, new books, new T-shirts, a new cassette and new vinyl combine to send me home on a natural high.
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