Chameleon Music - CD and Live Show Reviews

(edited by Kutre)

LIZ PISCO Interview @ Virgin Megastore after in-store concert on July 29th 2003

by -Lyle Brooks

Liz Pisco is a San Francisco artist who is getting some very positive attention for her new album, Gravity which she co-produced and released earlier this year. I caught her playing at her recent in-store at the Virgin Megastore on Market St. in San Francisco. She performed most of the material from the new record, with remarkably grand service to “Beginnings” and “Suicide Girl.” One audience member in reference to the latter said, “It gave me chills.” After the set, I was able to sit and talk to Liz. Amid the hustle and bustle of the huge record store, we tried to focus on performing, her new record, and being a warrior.

I saw you a couple of weeks ago at the Great American Music Hall playing solo, how does your preparation differ when you are playing solo rather than with the band?

With a band I can be freer because I have them back there to support me. So I can have a little more fun with it. When I play solo, you can hear every breath I take so I have to be more aware.

Are there any models that have shaped the way you perform?

Raz (Kennedy), my voice coach, has always taught me to breath deep and sing like a warrior. That's why I always sing better with boots on than wearing heels or something more delicate. So when I'm performing I always remember to be strong and ground myself well so that I sound good. Of course, I always look to the cool women like Chrissie Hynde.

Are most of your songs personal experiences or observations?

Most of these songs come from the people around me. They are observations of people's situations; of course I fictionalize them. But these are songs that represent people that I know and for example, with Suicide Girl, people that know her can hear the song and they know who it is about.

Listening to Gravity, it is obvious that it is a record about the forces at work upon us all; did you have that theme in mind when you set out to write the record?

I think it is just what I'm interested in, so that's what I write about. Michael (Romanoski, guitarist and Gravity's producer) was the one who really started to see that as an overall theme. From there, he developed a lot of the record's sound, doing things like adding a lot of space.

There's only really one love song on the album. I think I felt that there were enough of those type of songs out there, I wanted to do something different. As much as I would like to try more love songs in the future, it really isn't my personality. I'm just not very schmaltzy.

How long did you work on this record?

A year and half. It was a long process, during which we begged and borrowed for studio time. Mike is a mastering engineer; often we were only able to record when he wasn't working, that's really why it took so long to get finished.

Was it hard to keep that theme alive over the course of a year and a half?

It was tough, as we developed the record more things kept changing and finally some songs that we started out with just didn't seem to fit anymore.

Liz Pisco is a great songwriter who can rock the stage like a warrior. Look for her Friday, August 15 th at The Brainwash Café on Folsom. You can find her new album Gravity on sale at Virgin as well as through her site www.lizpisco.com.

LIZ PISCO , Concert Review, Great American Music Hall, July 15th, 2003
by -Lyle Brooks

Seeing Liz Pisco in the darkened Music Hall, alone in the middle of the stage, felt much like the way you can focus hard on something until everything else recedes. She opened the show with “Suicide Girl,” the song’s simple chords filling space. The refrain of “Suicide girl, don’t you go” rebounded more of the urgency implicit to the phrase than on the record version. With the world but darkness beyond the performer, it wasn’t hard to feel the story of tragedy. “Like a Dog,” a salvo to the struggles of life, communicates the burden of routine using the shallow rhythm of clockwork. As she sings, “If you see through me/it’s just as well,” I wonder if the rest of the audience feels the force of a solo performer saying these words. It seems as though she is referring to the place from which all of these songs come from, acknowledging in that moment the fragility of the songs as well as their source. “Too Long” allows Liz to build a complex drama in the development of the vocal’s delivery. She intensifies this drama with hard strumming, providing her huge structure for her voice to rush over. With each beat, she powers the chords to their extreme—where they become something new, carrying the song out like clouds floating off on the wind. “Beginnings” starts with a darkness that develops the notion of possibility buried within the song. “I love endings almost as much as I love beginnings,” she says as the song engages the listener with the notion of embracing the myriad possibilities born in every moment. And with that felt, she has no fear of closing the song with a simple, “Goodbye.” Beginnings and endings forgotten, this show was held in Liz Pisco’s ability to control her voice and the emotional power of her music. The simple things are what define this ability, for example singing the same word four times, each utterance meaning something entirely different. With that slight power she has pulled us deeper and deeper into that circle of blue light, which she inhabits. Opening “Running” with pats of her guitar, she show us just how intimate this show has become. And the calls of “stop all your runnin’” sound like the echoes of memories that could live in anyone just beyond the pale of stage light. Everyone’s recollections fill in the blanks as we place ourselves in the moment when we just want someone to slow down for a while. For the penultimate song, she chose the classic Neil Young song, “Helpless.” Her unaccompanied vocals to start imbue the room with a sense of poetry. The song is perfect for Liz’s vocal acumen as she sings with the personal candor of, “baby, can you hear me now?” as well as the more universal repetitions of “helpless.” The show winds its way into the final song and we haven’t thought much about the fact that this would end. As an apt place to close she chooses “Find my way,” a song about trying to get back home again. There is a beauty in this song, which is found in the relationship between the vocals and the lyrics. As she says, “I’m gonna find my way back home,” there is a sense that as much as she wants it to be true she realizes that as with most things in life one really can’t tell. It is in the cadence of the delivery. But as with the whole set, you are pulled into it and you love the blue-eyed luster of the song’s hope. And with that, the lights are up a bit and we lose sight of what it was we were focusing on for who knows how long.

LIZ PISCO CD Review, Gravity
by -Lyle Brooks

There are many ways to get into this album, each song a valley within which one could take respite. It is the sensitive candor of Liz Pisco's voice, which never calls attention to itself that you first get comfortable. It is a voice, which is able to transform with the identity of each song. This sense of personality lasts throughout "Gravity," whether it is found in the whisper of loss or the boundless joy of life and love; these are songs very articulately enveloped in the human experience.
To intensify that truth, the record has been produced along the same lines, always respectful of what each song is, developed but never overproduced. From the opening two songs, "Running" and "Gravity," the tension between restlessness and contentment is set out. This dynamic grounds the whole record, the way that gravity grounds everything in a tension between two masses.
Liz Pisco has crafted an album full of both bold storytelling and sweet pop ingenuity, songs that you may very well wake up singing.

ABLE-MINDED POETS, Concert Review, LIve @ Curve Bar, June 26th, 2003
by -Lyle Brooks

The most refreshing things about my first exposure to the Able Minded Poets were both the idea of a community represented on a stage as well as the sense that you don't always have to know what it is to like it. From the outset, there were memories of my first Roots show in 1994. That show, on a side stage of the Horde Fest in August in Texas, helped me to become excited about a type of music of which I was growing tired. Just as everything had started to become stock, these guys got on stage and had fun and didn't have to be anything but good.
AMP also doesn't seem to need to be anything but good. Are they poets with a musical flair? Are they a live hip-hop crew? Ultimately, these questions arise and can be ignored. Jacob Jones' flows are sometimes broken, with the rough edges splintering into shards that cut; sometimes they are idealistic tumbles of exploration. There is no single approach to rhyme making in this collective.
Songs like "Is It Love?" and "Spirit" allow Lewis Hill to show his many talents, most notably driving the beat with force as well as subtlety, belting out soulful lines to counter the heavy rhymes, his is a voice which soars just above the bedlam of the mix, and as if that weren't enough he mimics cuts and scratches using his mouth. It requires some inspection, but there were no turntables. The music comes to you. Whether you are grabbed by the deep funk beats and bass lines that hop, or by the rhymes that never sound forced, or perhaps, the soulful vocals that expand the sound as well as making more concrete the music's direction. If the listener is busied by trying to identify all of these parts they may miss the whole.
But the music works so well in creating space because the poetry is poetic; it knows where it wants to go and what it wants you to feel. This is best felt in moments where repetitions become incantations, which change their meanings in the context of the song's space as well as the repeating measures.
The Able Minded Poets are just that, flexible with language as well as its delivery. Worrying about the layers of music, which fold together in the set, would only distract the listener from getting into it and dancing.

BUTCH BERRY Concert Review, Live @ Broadway Studios, June 20th, 2003
by -Lyle Brooks

There's something addictive about the way that good pop music uses harmonies. From the outset of Butch Berry's set on Friday, the syncopated harmonies were at work. The kind of harmonies that coat every note, making everything so sticky that eventually everything and everyone is stuck together. That's what makes pop music so great, like when you are so caught up in eating candy that you can't be bothered with the fact that it is all over your face. As the room got sticky, the band moved into "Giving it All Back to you," a song which bore a rude bass line that almost groaned with regret then bounced into a nasty break that forced a few woman to dance. As these women (and the men that followed) shook themselves I wondered, "Can you use the word 'verve' to describe power pop?" I'm not sure that I've resolved that question even now, after days in between. The Butch Berry band is a trio, and as they rolled into "She's Alright" with an urgency that can only come from a trio, I thanked God for trios. The song takes an anxiety and makes it dance with punchy nervous knocks at the door. The set settles a bit with "I Want to be" as the band skip beats and allows for a little fuzzy slow down. The big vocals evolve to the next level with Robert, the bass player, floating sweet alongside in harmony. At this point, the dancing became something I am unable to describe, but things were getting sticky. As Butch sings, "…to every wrong there is a right," you can see raindrops on the windshield as a poor adolescent heart breaks. And it is those heartbreaks that make pop music so sticky; it is what makes the Butch Berry Band a legitimate pop sensation.

A large screen to the right of the stage played some sort of circus antics; I was never sure what that was about. "Mission Accomplished" is beyond sticky, it is pop as hypnotic, pop as drug; this song freezes people where they are as they see themselves within it. The double time fuzz and grind of the vocals sit just above the mix, made holier by the layering of voices. Pop trios must have great control. As "Quit Killing Me" drives through a great bridge and break it slows into a strum and then takes off again. These boys can stop on a dime, and then drop into a crash flourish. Not being one to recklessly throw out references, it was in the second half of the set that I started making notes about Elvis Costello. It was specifically at the point between the end of "Quit Killing Me" and first chord of "Butterfly" where smart almost spills into depraved. The mood develops into a sad clown calamity (my toes are still tapping); "Love Come In" bears the image of the cigarette burning itself out as the song gets written early in the morning. The room is swimming in the pop, everything stuck together, and he sings, "I see you," in the chorus, there is a fade and everything is passing. The balance of the show comes up even again into the last song "Attack." A frenetic blast back into the fervor of the show's opening, the song repeats the title and you can feel the persistence of that adolescent heart that lives at the center of all great pop.

KIMBERLYE GOLD Concert Review, Live @ Voodoo Lounge, June 11th, 2003
by -Lyle Brooks

There are things that all of us look for when meeting someone for the first time. We want someone who can help us feel comfortable; someone we will be able to easily talk with on multiple levels. Approaching Kimberlye Gold's show at the Voodoo Lounge was the same way; it was a conversation-from initial exchanges to the connection, which is the crux of such moments. Wearing pants with what appeared to be the face of a tiger on the leg, she fronted a group of five capable players with subtle dexterity. The opening banter was light enough to keep us comfortable yet direct enough to keep us interested.

They rolled into the opener, "What Are We Running From Now" building up a strong intensity as the collaborative got into the groove. The conversation was rambling at this point, intimate enough to be candorous. This tone sauntered into the teasing flirtation of "Just a Guy," a playful romp about the short-lived relationships to be had with the titular character. At this point, we are tipping glasses; we are making references to earlier stages in the evening, when everyone was tentative. Kimberlye can laughingly notify us that gears are going to shift, because it is the nature of the conversation, things may get a little "schmaltzy," and we smile knowingly as the band moves on. "Here for You" and "Silver Lining," develop a sentimentality that is dense without being saccharine, lyrically both wear the truth of movements, through skybreaks and streetsigns. There was a sense of rising to a plateau, of taking a breath, of each player finding the others moods. Upon the precipice of "'Till We Meet Again," the band realized its fullest sound. And as that sound flowed and folded, the set collapsed into a seizure at the drop of the biting line, "was that good for you." The word "unit" was tarried about from stage into audience and back again. I was never far from the stage but I could never convince myself that there wasn't an auxiliary percussionist back there helping Drummer Wade Olsen, but after inquiring I was assured that he was all alone back there.

The second half of the set showcased harmonies with the crispness of heartbreak, shared between Kimberlye and her sideman Richie B. (on harp) on the ballad "The Hardest Part". "Sometimes That's All it Takes" carried a beautiful longing in it which with such soulful delivery was kept from becoming desperate, an easy route for a vocalist. We've heard the stories, we've exchanged glances, we know each other just a little bit, and that's why we left the house in the first place. With this tightly bound camaraderie, the band rocked into "Nothin' I Don't Already Know" a cutting track that had a rambunctious attitude that might need a disclaimer, the band show their breadth of range hitting this song in perfect stride. As the song's title repeats, there is a bitter confidence that verges on fervent. Guitarist Mike Sugar deepens the swagger with blues twists.

Pulling out of the rocker, the band strolls right into "Sycamore Street," the title of Kimberlye Gold's album, a beautiful song of dislocation. Drinks are finished up, you've filled in blanks on new people, the conversation has rolled by, and you hardly had any idea what time it was. You'll find yourself remembering how easy it was to just sit there and talk, to sit and listen. By the closing cover of Gladys Knight's, "Use My Imagination," we had seen this band show what conversation is possible when weaving blues, rock, folk and a soul into a fine blend. Kimberlye Gold's voice maintains this sense of variety and range, driving songs with soulful flourishes as well as the hushed calm of softer offerings.

DONOVAN MILLER Concert Review, Live @ studio Z, July 6th, 2002
by Megan Miller

So many performers depend on theatricality to impress an audience that it comes as surprise to see one who is simply being themselves. One of these is Donovan Miller, who played on a small upstairs stage at CHURN magazine’s gala event at Studio Z in San Francisco.
Whether it was the intimate setting or his own personable nature at work, Donovan got friendly right away. This essentially folk rock musician has lived in Iowa, Illinois, Nebraska and Missouri, and been writing his own material since the age of eight. Not that he needed to tell us, since his first song, “New Age Blues”, came off so naturally it could not have been written by anyone else. “You can see it in my face, I’m no mourner and I still got time to sing the blues”.
The next song, entitled “Laundry”, was released on Donovan’s own label, and included even more catchy insights than the first. With the crowd growing steadily impressed, Donovan’s presence swelled and carried him through the next two tunes, which were so drowned out by the sound check from the downstairs stage, he could barely be heard.
Thankfully, the honest lament of “Bullet Proof Man” came through loud and clear. “I’m running around inside these cages, face to the wind and watching you”. These lyrics, written by former band mate Jack Gallop of “The Griddle Dogs”, reveal emotions through metaphor like poetry often does. Donovan reminded us he can write too, by playing “Stay With Me” which he wrote when he was eight years old. One need only have seen Donovan hold his guitar like something he longed for to remember that children understand heartbreak too.
Following this peak were the slightly less tragic “Reason’s of My Own” (recorded with yet another band, “The Mighty Plastisols”) and “Angry Faces”, an almost comic take on chronic bad timing.
In Donovan’s music, tragedy and loss exist alongside hope, joy, love, and all the other muses we love to valorize. Whether the audience agreed or not, his unadorned confidence inspired a state of almost Zen-like receptivity.
All this set the stage perfectly for the curious “Red Hairing” which wound down the act and revealed Donovan’s love of the pun. “What’s that blue your face is wearing?…My baby’s got the best blue hair.” Lyrics like these are open to interpretation. But isn’t imagination what song writing, and listening, are really about?

SUNRISE HARMONY CD Review, It's All Right
by Megan Miller

Produced by Sunrise Harmony
If CCW and the Grateful Dead are your road trip staples, then Sunrise Harmony is your man. Sampling vocal styles from Willie Nelson to John Fogarty, Sunrise is far from the '60s flashback cliché his name may suggest. His prolific array of styles is matched by the tight arrangement of songs that unfold on the album like a Homeric quest - tragic, comic, and timeless. Due to the divergent styles he attempts to pull off, using basic vocals, guitar and drums played by Freedom Electric; there are a few songs that may make the listener cringe. But for every one of those, there will be another that will keep you lamoring for more. "Joe Camel Blues," one of the more Neil Young-y tracks, feels made for a redeye layover in a Greyhound station. Whilst "Are You Ready for the Change?" brings eventual optimism at its end as hope trumps tragedy every time. Sunrise is blues and freedom rock all rolled into one. So, bundle this one and hit the road!

VANI CD Review, Realm of Raga Rock
by Megan Miller

produced by: Gus Busbee
recorded at: Sound Arts
engineered by: Jeff Wells
This genre bending album by Vani (yes, that’s a V) is a conceptual journey where East meets West as has blast. “Raga Rock” is a liminal blend of techno, metal, grassroots and raga ryhtms, and how many bands can that describe? Listen, if only for novelty’s sake, and let your subconscious rock out.
Vani creates an improv feeling that appeals more to emotion than intellect by using chant like voice that liberates and reinvigorates imagination.
Throughout the album, Chandra Courtney’s vocals pulse, warble, plummet and soar as emotions do. “One Voice Alap”, for example, sounds almost like ambient techno, with dense expanses similar to Techno Animal or Zoviet France’s “Signals” played 10 times slower. In fact, this track is a combination of Tuvan throat singing and digital reverb.
But there is a definite spin to their lyrics. “Oxygen-oxygen- we all bleed as one.” These words to “Oxygen” are both a monistic philosophy and a subtle environmental plea.
Weather or not this is your bag, the varied length and style between tracks keeps things flowing.
The highest contrast is probably between the measured moralistic bullet of “An Eye for an Eye” and the epic metal riffs and excited rythms of “Skye Axe”.
It’s a toss up weather the album retains spiritual momentum despite or because of the unmistakabley digitized sound. But this conundrum is irrelevant considering that, in their home town of Houston Texas, a mainly punk audience applauded them enthusisticly.
This foundational album could spring in many directions, but no matter what they explore next, “The Realm of Raga Rock” is excellent fodder for imagination and inspiration.

LIZ PISCO CD Review, Let Me In
by Megan Miller

Liz Pisco doesn't prostelatize, persuade or beg. Nor does she lick wounds of disillussionment or wallow in ennui, as love songs are prone to do. Real life details, hard boiled smarts, and strong as nails delivery make Liz Pisco's performance a cord of strength that anyone who has ever loved and lost can grasp with both hands.
"I don't hear anything I haven't heard before, I'm just wondering if I can replace you baby."
In these lyrics from "I Don't Hear Anything", she doesn't simply say breaking up is hard to do, she illustrates why.
"Hard work and good intentions aren't enough when what we want is beyond this ordinary life". The use of the word "ordinary" in the song of that same name defines a wanting and yet typical emotional state.
These accessable and multi-layered lyrics liberate heartbrake from the romantic clouds where it is so often kept, and summon it to a tangible earthy realm. The instruments blend seemlessly throughout, but the overall mix is suspiciously steady. The final recording under-emphasizes the musicians' critical supportive role.
By never letting them shine alone, they could easily be taken for granted. Voice often dominates other instruments, and that's no crime. Still, I hope the next album has an instrumental track, or at least a few bars without lyrics.

INVISIBLE GREEN Concert Review, Live at the Seventh Note, April 7, 2001
by Megan Miller

After hearing their latest CD, I thought I had Invisible Green figured out. But seeing IG live was like emerging from a flickering bulb lit room into the noon sun.
In a brief Saturday night set, IG covered all three songs on their new EP, plus several others that will be included on a full length album set to be released this winter.
IG's playing was spirited indeed. Lead singer Matt Quirire, an SF native who learned his music fundamentals from a neighborhood street musician, sprang like a sugar charged pogo stick to the guitar of Sean Dorsey, bass of David Basile, and Mark Harris' percussion.
But though the audience bobbed and clapped, all but an enthusiastic few held fast to their seats, as if imprisoned behind the Seventh Note's maze of red velvet and oversized tables. Sometimes it takes a dense crowd to lift intimidation and move the boogie to the floor. And sice this band definately rocks, getting down is inevitable.
The lyrics, too, penetrated further live than on the EP. Especially insightful were the lyrics from their song Crimson: "..Sour, the image I taste in the mirror, what I fear, nightmares, my only escape from the real world that colors me by numbers". Imagine these lines delivered under the influence of Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, and Victim's Family for a virtual taste of IG's sound.
Not only are the lyrics strong, but the band's seven year history shows they can confront, conquer and survive obstacles as individuals and as a team.
This solid band will play alot more in months to come, so if all you've heard is the studio mix, get out there and see what you're missing!

EMERYVILLE CD Review, the 20 minute sample
by Megan Miller

That searching suburban sound travels into some uncharted territory on Emeryville's edgy experimental EP. In this case, Emeryville is a city of one artist, who wrote and recorded this throbbing, disonant, and evolving landscape pretty much on his own.
Besides being musically inventive, his lyrics never succumb to tepid repetition, and even communicate a powerful sense of apathy and frustration. More than occassionally, he slips into that gutterally miserable vocal style outworn by Stone Temple Pilots and Pearl Jam in the mid nineties. But threadbare vocals suit tracks like "Awake" and the album's overall search for substance in a world with little to grasp on to.
Emeryville is a mirage, where the closer you look, the less you see; and the more you reach for, the more you lose.
As for me, I'll be reaching for his next album.

INVISIBLE GREEN CD Review, Invisible Green
by Megan Miller

I really really wanted to like Invisible Green. Maybe it was the tantalizing guitar intros. Or maybe the funky junkyard cover art. But neither of these instant pluses redeem this lackluster rehash.
Yes, it's old wine in a new bottle. Now, familiar does have it's merits. As with food, canned can be handy if you know what you want and wouldn't mind it again. But people are not MIDI samples. Ingenuity is a human game. And Invisible green tries to play it full throttle at the start of nearly every track on this EP. But their enlivening guitar is only to be sabotaged by copycat rythms and flat vocals that push it right back to go.
Eventually, Invisible Green may find a can opener and climb out of the cupboard. Until then, it's simply one more top forty phenomena on the shelf.