Subatlantic at the Redstone Room at Common Chord -- October 22 (photo by Tim D'Avis)
An article about a local show is another advertisement. Advertisements are categorically jive, even if no one uses the word anymore (for good reason). “Jive” is a more polite word than “bullshit.” You can use it in public; you can use it on radio and television; you can use it in polite company, in schools, in front of children and old people and employers. It sounds especially good with a harsher expletive right in front of it, a very pleasing quality for words meant to be derogatory without crossing the limits of social acceptability.
The worst thing about the word “jive” is that it sounds dated, rings of a misguided nostalgia for somebody else's time, with the the smokeshop tawdriness of a new pair of bell-bottoms or a 25-year-old wearing a Marlboro hat. During that bygone time, after the breakup of the Stooges (as un-jive a rock band as ever there was), Ron Asheton formed a band called the New Order. Their song “Rock 'N' Roll Soldiers” described their mission as “the war against the jive,” a mission held by any band that's worth a shit, whether they know it or not.
The jive is closing in hard, an ocean awash in plastic that's ready to swallow everything in in its path. Local music can be just as jive as the big ugly itself. There are, however, musicians creating original and compelling and heartfelt music; music that's destined to be ignored outright by the Clear Channels of the world but that's worth supporting, hearing, bearing witness to. It's not panacea, but it's a small antidote to the bigger problem of a culture where a hit pop song is roughly the same as a used chicken-nugget container.
Subatlantic are anything but jive. Their songs are so personal as to brush on the “reading someone's diary” cliché, to the point that trying to write about them feels churlish. Trying to write about music that so obviously draws from the wrenching pain of unraveling relationships feels like emotional trespassing. To a listener, though, Rebecca Rice's lyrics are general enough to be widely relatable – maybe they'll bring you down if you're not in the mood, but they're more likely to touch you, whether you're mourning a romance or a friendship. Subatlantic make music that is poignant but dignified, touching on hooky indie-rock and driving post-punk, easy on the ears alone late at night but energetic enough to carry (and dance to) in a live setting.
They're playing the new downstairs Redstone Room at Davenport's Common Chord on Thursday, October 22. Drummer Phil Pracht was obliging enough to offer some thoughts on the venue and the other musicians on the bill.
“We had the pleasure of getting a sneak peek at the new venue while it was still being worked on, and we were stunned. So much love has been poured into the place. We're thrilled to be sharing the stage with our buds Liv Carrow and Camp Regret … . For our first show at the new place, we couldn't have asked for a better group of friends to share the night with. We've been working new material into the set and can't wait to share it with everyone.
“Camp Regret bring so much fun and energy to the stage that it's impossible not to get swept up in it.”
I heartily second this statement. You can hang the post-punk tag on them, with a fair degree of accuracy, but most post-punk bands don't rock. Camp Regret bring that monolithic doopa-chicka 4/4 beat and juice it with high-attitude Stooges guitar, retrofuturistic synth and lyrics that muck the darkness while bringing the fun. How do you deal with a culture that glorifies relentless, life-destroying grind? Write a song called “Go-Getter” (ya gotta GO to GET EVERYTHING you NEED to LIVE and GOD HELP YOU if you need to REST) and have some fun spewing it out on stage. Their self-titled debut was one of the best rock records of last year; it's about to receive a second pressing while the band work on the follow-up.
Liv Carrow opens the show at the very reasonable hour of 7 p.m. Her songs feel old and modern at the same time; her voice could be coming off the NPR dial or keening across a moor somewhere. Nominally a folk singer and songwriter, with some incredibly dextrous fingerpicking at her disposal, her set on the 22nd will be with a full electric band, described by Subatlantic as “truly special.”
Other, more credible commentators have written and spoken at length about the importance of supporting local shows. Attending a local show won't do anything to break the control of corporate media or disrupt the endless jivespew of swill. It will, however, help to nourish a smaller world of independent music and culture that exists outside of the slop funnel. There are social, even political benefits to having spaces where people can gather and enjoy non-commoditized music together. And besides the big picture, there are benefits to you, personally, from (hopefully) enjoying the company of people who may share your values to the sheer chemical response from good music hitting your brain, giving you a little bit of shine to carry with you after the show.
The dark side is that “the scene” all too often provides an environment for crooks and predators to survive and thrive. That particular topic is worth addressing at length elsewhere, but deserves acknowledgment in light of recent events in the Quad Cities. In theory, smaller communities should have stronger ties of trust, but we've seen that trust broken time and time again. I have nothing to offer on that subject, besides this: Get to know the people around you, and form ties of friendship and love and trust strong enough to protect against the sinister element, to make those who would use communities for their own twisted ends afraid to do so. Start at a show.
Subatlantic, Camp Regret, and Liv Carrow perform at Davenport's Redstone Room at Common Chord (129 Main Street) on Thursday, October 22, with doors at 6 p.m. and the concert at 7 p.m. Admission is $15-20, and more information and tickets are available by calling (563)223-8642 and visiting CommonChordQC.org.
