Live at {open} (2226 E. Fourth St.), June 23rd ’07
By Greggory Moore
A confession: I am not the biggest fan of live music. That’s why I didn’t catch all of this show: three bands in one night is a bit much for me. And so I ambled in partway through opener Wayne Everett and Friends’ (I don’t think that’s an official band name) set and didn’t pay close attention. But that’s no negative reflection on what I heard. Everett played acoustic guitar and sang his tuneful songs while capably backed by a drummer and a xylophonist. My exposure to them here certainly will not cause me to avoid them in the future. I know it doesn’t sound like a rousing endorsement, but that’s mostly about my lack of focus (and my unwillingness to pretend I took in more than I really did). For more info, focus yourself on www.wayneeverett.com.
Greater California were the headliners. I first heard about the sextet (two guitars, bass, drums (played by turns with sticks, brushes, and mallets), organ, keys/percussion) in last week’s article in The District Weekly (the most well-copy-edited periodical in the Lower 48). Think Pavement meeting The Beach Boys in the milieu of gentle ‘60s pop psychedelia. This band live is studio-tight; and the songs, despite often consisting of multiple sections, adhere to an accessible pop structure. Changes in dynamics abound without cutting into a natural flow, and jams are never very long. Almost everyone in the band vocalizes, often at the same time and switching off the lead. A guitarist switched to vibes for one tune, and guest backing vocalists joined in. The closer was a cover of The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows” featuring Wayne Everett on lead vocals. “If you don’t know this song,” Everett (I think) said before they launched into it, “you probably shouldn’t be in this room.” Point well taken. I know the song, but I’m not a Beach Boys’ fan—and I’m not Greater California’s target audience. I like them a LOT more than I do The Beach Boys, though, and you might feel the same. Find out for yourself at www.greaterca.com.
The middle band, Matt Death and the New Intellectuals, was definitely my favorite. Mr. Death was the guy singing like a cross between Julian Casablancas (The Strokes) and Mike Ness (Social D) and playing a Gretsch (?) hollow-body treated only with simple, “classic” distortion and reverb; while on this night the New Intellectuals were represented by a fellow (David Maust, I believe) on a Farfisa organ who was able to milk that unique sound for all it was worth, filling out the bass-less tunes as efficiently as Ray Manzarek often did for The Doors. The songs were short and generally medium-slow, with a clear ‘50s influence (often having a discernible doo-wop rhythm). The music doesn’t seem retro, though, but rather what the ‘50s might have sounded like were artists then able to have time-traveled to glean some present-day sensibilities. These songs were all meat and no fluff, cutting right to the point in terms of both structure and arrangement. I found myself completely surprised at how taken in I was, how much I found myself moving along with the beat. For a couple of songs the drummer Friend of Wayne Everett sat in as an “honorary New Intellectual” and was a perfect complement, helping take the ad-hoc trio on a fantastic, soaring jam. This is a Long Beach band, so all you homers really ought to see wassup here. Are they this good on record? Presumably myspace.com/mattdeathandthenewintellectuals will help me answer that question (once I get out of the world of dial-up, anyway).
I am sometimes struck by how many great artists are virtually unknown. “Great” is a matter of taste (in the arts, anyway, if not in (e.g.) sports), of course, and percentage-wise I personally don’t find all that much greatness in world . . . and yet, great artists abound. Some of them come through {open}. Find out if you agree by stopping in sometime: accessopen.com.