The exclusionary speakeasy vibe combined with the visual and aural art on display and the fab crowd to make for a very cool event Saturday night, when Arboretum and The Expotentials played the Granfalloon.  More details follow after the jump.

This cooperative venue was decorated for the evening with art — lithographs, photographs, and ambient light boxes crafted from wood and textile fabric — by three local artists.  The artists and crowd were generally young, but not too young, so that what with the kegs of beer provided for a moderate fee to guests who were also welcome to bring their own whatever they might bring, the atmosphere was of the hippest fraternity party ever.

Arboretum came on at some point after midnight to cover The Velvet Underground’s “Sister Ray” without vocals.  This was a punk jam for those who hate jam bands, winding four bars tight and refusing to let them go.  Did they make it last for fifteen, twenty minutes, or more?  I cannot be sure.  Like Aldous Huxley said during the mescaline trip that became “The Doors of Perception,” there seemed to be plenty of time.  It just became an irrelevant concept, beyond a certain point when it became clear that, yes, they were actually doing what they were doing.

Next The Expotentials came on and played one of their predictably solid sets, but with a new element.  I have written on here about them several times.  Probably too many times, so I will not review this show in detail.  However, I have to tell you that this minimalist two-piece has added a third member, who on Saturday only played organ, filling out the bass.  The Expotentials experiment last summer with Big In Japan showed that, as amazing as their drums-and-guitar alchemy can be, their songs do benefit from more lush treatment.  The new member’s contributions will expand in the future, to include bass guitar and vocals.  Presumably forthcoming compositions will evolve with this new dynamic.

Sorry to be such a tease, but although this a great location I want you to know about, I just can’t tell you where it is.  It exists by and for a large group of friends in Baltimore, many of whom create art and all of whom live artistic lives.  They welcome new friends.  May you join them if you wish.

That sound of disappointment, from a loved one wronged, burrows into your gut deeper than any tirade.

Reeling fury was what I expected, when I heard about two Kentucky boys named Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore who were making a whole album decrying mountaintop removal.  Riding home from work one day, I gave it a listen.  I felt like a little wounded calf, stroked and cooed to ease, and then fed a mercy bullet. For the rest of the review, click here.

Nina Diaz is perhaps the most compelling front I’ve ever seen.  She is effortlessly sensual.  Flirting with and teasing the audience between songs is beneath her.  She lets her singing and playing take care of that, and bassist Jenn takes care of most of the between-song banter.  Others have already compared Nina’s voice to Morrissey’s, and they do so validly, but one hears elements of many singers in her style, including Nina’s boss, Joan Jett — Girl In A Coma are the flagship band of Blackheart Records.

Praising Nina’s singing too much obscures the fact hat she is a damn good guitarist.  Unlike the frontmen of many “punk” bands (I’m looking at you, Billy Joe Armstrong) who only play rhythm, Nina probably leads with her guitar more than her voice.  Nina’s deftness on her instrument is part of why I feel that calling this band a punk act sells them short, and I love punk.

Anyone who has read a few of my reviews knows that I am a sucker for a good cover.  Excellent musicians playing a faithful cover is always nice, but I prefer a creative cover that provides a band to demonstrate its unique set of skills with familiar material.  As such, Girl In A Coma’s cover of The Velvet Underground’s “Femme Fatale” was a revelation.  One one level it was almost too obvious:  a dangerously alluring young woman singing about a dangerously alluring young woman.  But “Femme Fatale” is a sweeping, lyrical piece and VU was a proto-punk outfit.  The song is kind of a contradiction, since no punk band following the Velvets could ever really cover it.  So how do you make it a punk song:  of course, you just play “Waiting For the Man” but sing “Femme Fatale.”  I don’t have an ear for purcussion to say what Phanie was doing back there on her kit, but Nina and Jenn were playing “Waiting For the Man” while Nina also authoritatively belted out “Femme Fatale.”  May they please lay down a recording soon, because I need to hear it over and over again.

First, since this was my first trip to the fairly new Windup Space, I need to tell you about the venue.  The Windup Space is located on North Avenue near Charles Street in what is known as the Station North Arts District, where city and state governments have encouraged artsy development to counter decades of blight to what was clearly once a lovely bourgeois neighborhood.  Now businesses such as the Windup Space and Joe Squared have become favored hipster gathering places.

The Windup Space has jumped to near the top of my list of favorite places to catch a show.  It is one single, fairly large, warm and inviting room.  The club advertises itself as an arts space and bar, and its primary decor consists of an art exhibit.  The work currently on display is a series (or multiple series) of abstract paintings by Allyn and Ed Harris.  A vast and fantastic landscape over the bar held my attention as I sipped a few very reasonably-priced ($3-$5) cocktails pre-show.

First Matt and Chuck, the Expotentials, took the stage for a set.  I wrote a fawning review of them a few months back, so there is no need to describe them in detail here, except to say that they are amazing.  They included a couple of new songs that display Matt’s voice better, but I still like them best when they thrash.

Then Big In Japan played a set.  Based on the samples on their MySpace I was expecting an experience as if Ornette Coleman formed a punk band.  Instead I felt like I was seeing Coldplay in a small club.  That may be the backhanded compliment it sounds like, but I mean that Big In Japan sounds like Coldplay when they remind me of Radiohead, not U2.  In the tradition of prog, glam, and Brit punk, Big In Japan is as much an art project as a band.  Their music as an ethereal quality, complemented by Mike’s drums and James’ bass, but carried primarily by Matt Pierce’s keyboards, flute, heavily digitally affected vocals, and MacBook Pro.  They moved from graceful ambient numbers to more rocking stuff, and back.

For the next stretch of the evening, Matt Naas of the Expotentials returned to the stage and the new assemblage alternated between Big In Japan compositions and Expotentials songs.  While I lack the perspective to adequately express what Matt N. added to Matt P.’s songs, it was really interesting to hear Expotentials songs in this way.  Their aesthetic is normally so bare, but here the songs were rendered lush.  I could not tell if Mike was really dialing back the percussive intensity or if there was just less space for him to fill with bombast, and I felt the same about Matt N.’s vocals.  Matt P.’s keys shared lead with Matt N.’s guitars and gave the imression that they belonged there.  As much as I love blues/punk minimalism, James reminded me that the bass guitar exists for a reason.  As Matt N. noted between songs, the members of Big in Japan really made his songs sound good.

This collaborative project concluded the evening with covers of The Who’s “Magic Bus,” ELO’s “Don’t Bring Me Down,” and the Beatles’ “Helter Skelter.”  An additional guitarist took the stage, while Chuck declined an invitation to come up and find something to hit, content to enjoy the show with the rest of the crowd.  Considering what I perceive as the headiness of this show, the gang delightfully built their version of “Magic Bus” around a Bo Diddley beat.  As they extended it into a jam, I felt compelled to add the chorus of Mr. Diddley’s eponymous tune.  The final two tunes were simultaneously as intense, beautiful, and fun as intelligent rock should be.  “Helter Skelter” featured all the organized chaos of the version on the White Album.

The entire program felt less like a rock show and more like a dissertation on the subject of what rock can be, and the Windup Space was the perfect venue for it.

The Grendel Babies started the evening off with a unique set.  Athough I am almost certain that this impression is incorrect in formal terms, Grendel Babies seem like 21st C. madrigals, balanced with vaudevillian humor.  Marilena fronts this two-piece lilting voice and deft work on the keyboard, while Jennifer the accompanying violinist may be the most virtuoso performer to ever step onto the Fort Reno Stage.  Watching Grendel Babies perform I felt like I was at Lilith Fair’s second stage, and I mean that in the best possible way, singing songs about objectified damsels who may or may not be in distress.  While I have no idea whether or not this would be their inclination, I can imagine the humor of their act really coming through if they performed with one of the area’s avant garde burlesque acts at a venue such as the Palace of Wonders.

Casper Bangs took the stage next.  Considering frontman Rob’s sense of fashion, clearly displayed on his website, it is odd that he took the stage in a white t-shirt and white jeans, joking between songs that he resembled a house painter.  The Casper Bangs repertoire offers an intellectual take on relationship songs; anybody with a Hamlet complex can identify with the plea, “I need somebody to turn me off / I’m always on.”  Perhaps their songs could be more daring, mostly fashioning psychedelia out of simplified Radiohead and Coldplay riffs, but I really liked their set, and I expect to enjoy their evolution.

I came to the park really looking forward to seeing the Title Tracks, and I was not disappointed.  I’ve been missing frontman John’s band Q and not U since they broke up several years ago, but not so much now that I’ve seen what he is doing now.  The Title Tracks are clearly a product of a wide range of influences, but I mostly hear early Britpop, as if Elvis Costello and Paul Weller formed a band in Liverpool in 1965.  Their tight, catchy set was over in less than 30 minutes, and I definitely wanted more.  I’m sure the teenagers skipping and dancing in front of the stage agreed with me.

Thanks to Ron Akins, whose pics are available on Facebook.

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The park takes its name from Fort Reno, a Civil War-era sandstone fort constructed on the highest point in the District.  The main tower really looks like something one expects to find in Europe, not America, as it looms over the park.  The stage, simple but permanent, allows for a crowd of a few hundred to arrange itself a few steps from Chesapeake St., where a very smart ice cream man had parked his truck.  If only a vendor with a hot dog cart would join him.  I would have enjoyed a soda and a couple of halfsmokes during the show.

Christian Lander could find inspiration for several Stuff White People Like entries at Fort Reno.  I have to admit that the ethnic demographics of Fort Reno are no more diverse than any indie rock show, but that folks who come out for the shows do otherwise represent a broad spectrum.  People of all ages, including parents with very small children, arranged themselves on blankets.  Most ate some form of picnic dinner, many dining from Whole Foods shopping bags.  Dozens of younger folks, most teenagers, threw frisbees on the hillside behind the stage.  They reminded me of my friends growing up, as we spent Summer Sunday evenings at the drive-in theater, usually ignoring the movie.  We had the drive-in and they have Fort Reno.  I think they win.

As I arrived, Batala, an all-female Afro-Brazillian percussion band, had just begun to perform on the grass in front of the stage.  I’m definitley a layman here, but it seems to me that what separates them from any other drumline has less to do with their playing and more to do with their selection of instruments and their presence.  The ladies all wear loose-fitting patterned chaps that look like skirts from a distance with emblazoned t-shirts.  Batala’s set consisted of three ten-minute songs, each featuring poly rhythms that rise and fall.  Their sensuous rhythms and movements are infectious, but did not inspire dancing among this crowd.  Batala offered an excellent aparatif, something that few attendees probably expected leading off an evening that would generally consist of flavors of indie rock.

That is exactly what we got with the Small Doses, who took the stage, which had the names of the evening’s three bands spray painted on its front. Perhaps I’m naive, but I expect a three-piece band to be more bluesy, while the Small Doses bring more of a pop-punk sound.  Their songs are very fun and catchy.  However, the only attendee dancing was an adorable little girl down front who formed a one-toddler circle pit.  These Aussie emigres are an excellent addition to the DC music scene, and I look forward to seeing them again.  “Purple Lipstick,” which I have listened to over and over on their MySpace, may be their best song, but I cannot wait to hear their full-length release that they claim is in the works.  Thanks to the kids who set up a bake sale by the stage, as their brownie really hit the spot during this set.

As the sun set and the line of streetlights that run through the park, with one right over the stage, took effect, Cigarbox Planetarium hung a sign that looked like a list of available ice cream flavors but which was actually their setlist.  It is odd that only one of the evening’s three bands included a vocalist, and that one of the instrumental bands was the headliner.  Cigarbox Planetarium blend very modern sounds with bossonova and other well-aged elements.  The darkness chased dozens of teenagers down off the hillside and they gleefully danced in big group in front of the stage.  I planned to leave a couple of songs into their set, but Cigarbox Planetarium held my interest.

Check out the Fort Reno schedule.  You probably won’t be blown away by all three bands on any night, since each show offers such variety.  However, if you find one band you really want to see I bet you will find that whole evening delightful.  Amanda Mackaye, wife sister of Ian, and the other volunteers do a great job of organizing the series (though a few Port-o-Johns would be nice).  In addition to accepting donations by PayPal and check they sell t-shirts at the side of the stage.  Even though the shirts themselves are cheap and they only go up to XL (I wear a XXL), they do have neat designs to them, and I considered the $10 purchase my donation to the cause.

I will definitely attend and review the finale at the end of the month, as I cannot wait to see Casper Bangs and the Title Tracks.  Is there another night that I would be a fool to miss?  If you think so, let me know in the comments.

Thanks to Brian Smith for the pictures, which I swiped from Facebook.

While Chrisette Michele’s vocals are electrifying, Epiphany is without a doubt a pop R&B album. As far as pop music goes, she is hands down the most talented singer on the scene right now. The problem is that the album not only lacks any political statement whatsoever, but every song is a love song. There’s not one song that strays from a sad love life and it lacks the edge of something like Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill. The shear banality of this album is dissappointing since I was introduced to her from one of The Roots’ stronger statements.

There are some tracks with great beats that compliment her voice. The first track (that happens to be the title track), “Epiphany,” has a great beat to start the album with. “Another One” is also a beautiful track that starts with her singing with an acoustic guitar before the full band comes in and the drum beat is solid. My favorite track is “Fragile” which progresses nicely throughout the track with some great production.

The good news is that this high selling banal album may be exactly what Chrisette Michele needs to do what she wants with her next album. Sometimes going along with the demands of the record industry can result in more freedom down the road. That’s the way that the music business works and Epiphany is a testament to the problems with the industry. Someone as talented as Michele deserves the leeway to create music that uses her talent to its fullest extent.

Well needless to say, I got some insight into why this is taking place from a girl at the bar. My friends and I were talking to this girl and she was talking about how much she likes the bar, but that “the band was crappy”. I tried to get out of her why she didn’t like the band and what kind of music that she does like. She was insistent that the band sucked, but couldn’t describe to me what kind of music she listens to. She identified that a cover band would fit well with Whitlow’s, something that is probably true, but it is well worth $5 to have DJ Williams as background music over a cover band. It didn’t seem like she had any particular appreciation for anything other than what she is told is “popular”.

Everyone’s entitled to an opinion about music, no complaints about that, but it’s frustrating when people can’t explain why they don’t like something. To say a band sucks, but be unable to articulate why the bands sucks makes no sense. There is a difference between not liking a band and the band “sucking”. Often times I can’t stand a band, but have to admit that they are pretty good. However it is annoying to hear people say that a band “sucks” when they just don’t get it. What do you think?

I had the good fortune to see Charlie and his drummer Eric Kalb recently perform at Jammin’ Java.  There is no doubt he is in a class by himself.  I must admit, I listen to alot of his music but never to his duet music.  So, this was a treat for me.  If you closed your eyes, you truly think you are hearing a trio.  The drummer seemed to be one  with Charlie and they sort of encouraged each other to greater heights as they played.  The venue and musicians blended to make it a perfect performance for the room.  Eric has great chops and used straight ahead hard driving drumming to give Charlie the perfect platform to demonstrate his amazing musicianship.  I must admit, I went to hear some of the Charlie Hunter tunes that I am familiar with.  However, I was not disappointed at all and it made me want to seek out more of his duet music.  It is truly hard to classify his music into any one genre other than instrumental. One minute it is blues, the next heavy metal or reggae – but always funky.