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Review: Feed A Fish A Man, The Pilots, and Casa Verde Nova @ The Black Box Cabaret, Monterey Bay, CA.
The BBC is a venue that is only recently picking up steam. This year it has attracted acts like Wiz Khalifa, Blackalicious, and Hellogoodbye. Pretty sweet considering the average ticket price for non-students is five bucks, right? I recently had the good fortune to attend and perform at an event there, which was a benefit for YOSAL- The Youth Orchestra Salinas- hosted by CSU Monterey Bay student, Brenna Farrell. At this event I encountered several exciting musicians who are more than worth talking about.
The first band, Feed A Fish A Man, was excellent. They were a folk outfit, something along the lines of Mumford and Sons meets Civil Wars. Their front man stomped a kick drum while he played guitar, and their mandolin player stomped a tambourine. The also had a banjo, an electric bass, a violin, and another vocalist who was a tiny, freckled lady. They all wore plaid and they all sang in harmony. I realize that I am a slow learner, and this point is illustrated by my reaction to their show. The mandolin player (who also played the glockenspiel) sang the lyrics “my computer screen has corrupted my mind,” and I suddenly understood what was behind the folk movement. Despite the plaid and the framed glasses and all the swirling irony that engulfs our perception of “hipsters,” the folk movement is something with actual ideals behind it, even if it is sort of pretentious.
We are living in a supremely digital age, full of flashing lights, immediate and perpetual connectivity… constant interruptions. By reverting to an organic arrangement of instruments they are vocalizing their protest of society’s absorption into technology, and pleading for a way to slow down and take a step back.
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Don’t Want To Build Coffins No More
Many times have I purchased an album on the strength of a single song I heard on the radio, only to find that it was the only song I liked on the collection; as if the artist had said, “Let’s try something different with this one,” struck gold, but then did not follow the vein. This time, as a listener, I decided to do something different. Rather than buying the album, I went to see The Mumlers at the Echo, who I had only liked because of the song “Coffin Factory”.
Spoiler alert: I was not disappointed. “Coffin Factory” is still probably my favorite song and now I know it also serves as a fair representative of their overall sound, which is some mystical blend of The Shins and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. Not so much the “screaming” part as the darkness that his music presents.
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Man Man, Shilpa Ray Review, Bimbo’s 365, San Francisco May 14th
I hate driving in San Francisco. We, as an intelligent collective of organisms, need to hurry up and invent teleportation, because going to the city and trying to find parking is just mind boggling. That place is not meant for automotive transportation. When we finally did find parking it was because a limo had been rendered immobile, and only our compact car could traverse around it. The limo had gotten its mid section stuck at the crest of a hill and was teetering like a very, very classy see-saw. After we found a spot we made our descent to Columbus Ave, where the venue was located. Given the name (Bimbo’s 365), I expected to walk into a dive bar with crusty patrons, sighing at the influx of foreigners to see some clangy band in their haunt. I was surprised to enter a classy night club (whose capacity approaches 700), complete with bathroom attendants and a coat check. At the entrance were the merchandise tables for the two bands that were performing: Shilpa Ray And Her Happy Hookers were opening for Man Man. I’m not familiar with the opening act, but I have been a fan of Man Man for quite some time. This will be the first time that I have seen them as a headlining act (as opposed to an act at a large-scale music festival), where I have read that they are more free to give in to their own whimsy.
Shilpa Ray took the stage with a drum intro reminiscent of “Sing, Sing, Sing.” The four-piece was led by a frail twenty-something dark-skinned woman playing a harmonium while alternating between singing, shouting, and whispering. I am still completely confounded by her ability to go from a primal guttural scream immediately into a sweet sounding alto melody. The opening song, “Stick It To The Woman” was a perfect introduction to their sound as it encapsulated all the dynamics and styles of the songs that followed. The band spans many genres (I would define them as 80’s Themed Doo-Wop-Revival Grunge), as does the song: the swinging drum beat continues as the vocals sing long drawn out forlorn melodies until the band seamlessly begins a I-iv-V-VI progression (“Earth Angel,” anyone?) and then charges head on into a noise collage with Gospel shouts and screams.
I was floored.
The next song was “Natural Selection,” a bouncy, doo-woppy, piece featuring a call and response chorus. You don’t realize what you’re dancing to unless you stop to listen to the call and response:
First you get a tumor (First you get a tumor)
Then you get the cancer (THEN you get the cancer)
Then you get the chemo, but you never get the cure.
Combining sad lyrics with a peppy song is nothing new, but they have raised that concept to the Nth degree with this song.
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