Disappearing People, Scraper, DJ Joel Gion of The Brian Jonestown Massacre
1710 Mission Street
San Francisco, CA, 94103
Doors 8:30 PM / Show 9:00 PM
When Jaill nonchalantly stepped into the room with 2010’s That’s How We Burn, the group had already turned out a small catalog of self-recorded and self-released albums and EPs. Sub Pop first heard the band on an LP bought through the mail, the cover still hot from the Kinko’s copier. And as that record (2009’sThere’s No Sky (Oh My My)) demonstrated, Jaill’s Vinnie Kircher is equally comfortable crafting songs that either amble up slyly, or tumble out pell mell, with lyrics that betray his English major background. SPIN said of That’s How We Burn, “What elevates their [Sub Pop] debut beyond your average twee-punk rager is the gentle psych dabblings: extra delay on a guitar solo, an errant ‘ooh-ahh-ooh,’ a dubby Panda Bear flourish, and the swirling noise that murmurs through the background of the cheerful ‘Snake Shakes.’”
Recorded throughout 2011 in Kircher’s crummy, poorly lit basement, with minimal gear and a control room of thrift store afghans, and mixed at NY’s Rare Book Room by Nicolas Vernhes, Jaill’s latest mangled masterpiece, Traps is an acerbic exercise in both humility and aggression that transcends the humble environment of its creation. Or yeah, you know.
"Their raucous set was like if the Velvet Underground had turned to the MC5 at their Boston Tea Party concert in 1968 and, instead of insulting them, had turned and made love to them—and that was how Lou Reed wound up wearing that dog collar. I couldn’t make out a single lyric, but did they really close the set with “Little Honda?”
-Dan Collins, Editor, LA RECORD
Swirling, distorted psych, bulldozed along by pounding primitive drums, fuzzed out vocals, all glued together with a heavy spaced out guitar drone. If that ain't the ingredients for record of the month my name is Prince Bloody William. Imagine if you will the best of THEE OH SEES jamming deep with MOON DUO, with the aid of some sort of retro type drug that only Brace Belden knows the name of and you would almost be right on the money. Heavy, without losing one single hook, repetitive without being the least bit boring and shamelessly stepped in the glory years of acid rock without being a boring regurgitating hipster. Be warned, this record will give you a contact high.
(Cosmonauts-S/T LP Review)
- Sean Dougan, Maximum Rock N Roll #337
Disappearing People are a new two-piece lo-fi group out of Oakland comprised of drummer Landon Monroe Bates and vocalist/guitarist Scott Travis Johnston (Moccretro). The duo have just put out their first cassette release Dissolve which was self-recorded and then mastered by Greg Ashley (of Gris Gris).
Scraper speaks to the experience of being a San Francisco punk band more than any other record this year -- disorienting, visceral, and desperate. T-shirt's serrated but intelligible vocal approach extends to unwieldy guitar riffs that impulsively lash out and lacerate. The first time I interviewed the band, we met in the converted meat locker where they rehearsed, a few stories beneath ground-level in the Mission District. Phantom carcasses of yesteryear lent the scrappy thud, wallop, and savagery that the rhythm section tracked to tape on Scraper." --SF Weekly's Five Best Bay Area Punk and Hardcore Albums of 2013
Brick & Mortar Music Hall
Fri, August 29
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