SUPLECS
+LO-PAN
+NITROSEED
+WEED IS WEED
The Velvet Lounge, Washington, DC
September 18, 2011
Share Between an earthquake and Hurricane Irene flooding within days and several weeks of rain, these are dreary times in the Washington, DC metro area -- making one almost long for the otherwise sunny yet humid days of July.
The weather, however, has nothing on the local music scene. The general humorlessness of local musicians is nothing new, dating all the way back to ’80s hardcore at least. One also grows accustomed to boring indie rock bands who wouldn’t know a melody if it fell on ’em like an anvil -- and to whom “rock” is more of a geological construct. Yep, DC music is about as fresh as the pizza you wake up to at 3 p.m. on a Saturday nursing a hangover. But in past years, at least there were out-of-towners dropping in to make us forget our awful surroundings.
No longer. I can count the number of worthwhile DC shows from 2011 practically on one hand. So when a quadruple bill of four rocking bands hit the Velvet Lounge like a lightning bolt on September 18, it was every bit like the clouds parting in the heavens -- or whatever the fuck happens in those Biblical epics.
The Velvet Lounge isn’t what you’d call prime real estate -- simultaneously teetering on the edge of gentrified DC and the ghetto in a U Street neighborhood that’s seemingly always dark. Just a year ago, a man who redecorated the front of nearby club DC Nine with cinderblocks died in the adjacent street -- either beaten to death by bouncers or simply the victim of a freak accident, depending on which story you believe (authorities apparently believed the latter). Muggings and car break-ins still happen. “Don’t park on Connecticut Avenue,” Velvet visitors are warned. But it scares away a yuppie infestation akin to Adams Morgan or Georgetown, and that’s good enough for many.
The club is also tiny, offering a dimly lit downstairs bar and an upstairs music stage that’s small in capacity but solid acoustically -- with a floor so thin one can literally feel the stomping when dancing begins. But in spite of those limitations and its neighborhood, the Velvet Lounge has hosted some great shows over the years -- including the Zeros, the Flower Travellin’ Band, Richard Lloyd, the Swingin’ Neckbreakers, Atomic Bitchwax, the Styrenes, Iron Man and Orodruin -- all the way down to local rockers like the Shirks, who in a cruel twist of fate are playing crosstown this very night.
This bill is split in much the same way: two local bands and two touring bands. And in a stroke of luck not befitting this miserable year in live music, all great.
Weed Is Weed start the proceedings by ransacking Southern rock, Maryland doom metal, early ZZ Top and the Southern metallic crunch of Corrosion of Conformity and forging it into their own sound. And they should know: members Gary Isom (guitar) and Dave Sherman (vocals) played with underground legend Scott “Wino” Weinrich in Spirit Caravan (Isom on drums and Sherman on bass) and many other local acts, while guitarist Johnny Wretched has done likewise in bands like Wretched and still extant Soul. With the able assist of Darren Waters (bass), Jay Fisher (guitar) and Rob Cougin (drums), the Weed Manalishi with the three-pronged guitar attack bites like the lizard in “Alligator Crawl” with further sludge-mongering such as “Eating Pussy,” “Blunt Force Trauma” and their own theme song, “Weed Is Weed.” Note that there are no drug implications whatsoever in the name; rather, the band is explicitly glorifying and encouraging the use, cultivation and distribution of marijuana. As they say in their signature song: “Burn out my brain cells one by one/But I don’t care because I’m having fun.”
On the road from Columbus, Ohio, home of the Godz (“Gotta Keep A Runnin’ ”) and that college football aggregation that keeps getting busted, Lo-Pan is up next. On album, one could mistake them as standard (but good) stoner rock. Live, however, their pulverizing prowess becomes clear -- not striking the listener in a full-body effect of overall heaviness, but punching with the precision of a boxer and delivering the blows in the form of songs like “Bird of Prey,” “Chicken Itza” and “Generations” from their new album, Salvador. Beyond the metaphorical, drummer J Bartz has whacked his kit so hard during the 45-minute romp that drumstick splinters surround him on the floor when it’s over. (And on a trivia note, I saw a local band called Lopan -- also heavy -- back in 2004 on this very stage. I mention the coincidence to this Lo-Pan and garner laughs. How many people can say they saw two bands with the same name on the same stage?)
From there it’s back to the locals for Nitroseed, who once counted Isom as their drummer, and who also have bassist Rob Hampshire, formerly of Sherman’s other current band, Earthride. But this isn’t the new Hampshire; it’s the well-seasoned one in a quartet that’s been kicking around for nearly a decade with long-time guitarists Shane Balloun and Tucker Orr joining fellow original member Hampshire and more recent acquisition Phil Adler on drums. Like Lo-Pan, it’s heaviness through a different prism -- in this case sweeping up the listener in an instrumental vortex with jazz, metal and prog leanings that grooves and never overreaches with songs like “Creeper” and “Gut Butt.” The once all-instrumental combo also has a few new vocal numbers that will manifest on their next album, which I eagerly await.
Perhaps also eagerly awaiting Nitroseed’s second album are headliners Suplecs, who pay tribute to Maryland doom several times during their set. With a sound that incorporates punk, metal, doom and sludge without confining itself to any of them, the high energy rock ’n’ roll of Suplecs has all the subtlety of facing a deadly cobra in a snake pit. But it’s more the thrill than the fear of such an encounter -- perhaps the equivalent of gunning it on a speed boat through the swamps near their native New Orleans. In other words, it’s fun -- and as good as originals like “White Devil” and “Tried to Build an Engine” are, covers of the Fab Four’s “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” and especially Rush’s “Working Man” (with a witty middle section and improved solos) deliver the payoff for a set that’s as hard-driving as the wrestling move that named them.
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