Keep You Warm In Your Kingdoms

Greetings and salutations.

Whatever kind of weekend you had, I assure you: mine was worse. Not because anything bad happened, but because nothing good happened. Not one freakin’ thing. No highlights. No small miracles. No tiny pieces of joy. I sat in my house for two days watching it snow, with nothing but Pop Tarts to eat and basic cable’s handy rotation of Keanu Reeves movies to watch. And let me tell you, it was every bit as fun as it sounds.

It wasn’t like I didn’t try to make the best of it. I rather enjoy toasted pastries, and at least it wasn’t “Point Break.” I thought about shoveling my sidewalk, but I live in Roanoke, where the DMV has a special street tag for riding lawn mowers with snowplows. By 8am Saturday morning, every joker with a John Deere on my block had pushed and re-pushed the snow down the street until my neighbor thought it would be funny to clear his driveway by moving the 4ft drift into mine.

Fortunately, I did manage to get out prior to the snowfall to check out the Discordian Society and Madrone at the Coffee Pot on Thursday night. It’s worth noting that Fire at Will actually headlined the show, but I called it a night before then.

Having never seen or heard either band live, I was at first turned off by the Discordian Society’s sound. Not for lack of musicianship, but just my natural dislike of jam bands. Believing that musicians have no idea where they’re going always gets to me, sort of like watching a movie where you know something humiliating is going to happen and you tense up in embarrassment for the character. I wait for a painfully wrong note, sloppy passage, or missed time cue, and after a time of listening to someone fiddle around without going anywhere, my nerves overtake me and I lose all interest. Within the first few minutes of the band’s opening song, I could already tell I wasn’t going to like it.

In fact, anyone who wouldn’t like their music probably dislikes it in the first five minutes for similar reasons. Some folks just don’t enjoy the randomness. But as I listened, it started to click. Things weren’t nearly as accidental as they first appeared. Instead, I began to find a method in the madness and as soon as it dawned on me that all this chaos was totally intentional, I realized the scope of the band’s musical prowess. What seemed like an acid-tripped mix of funk, ska, rock, and punk, was punctuated by the smooth rhythm changes, precise starts and stops, and tight harmonies that some bands couldn’t do with all the practice in the world.

Led by a bass-playing cross between Les Claypool and Frank Zappa, the sound was groove-heavy and remained danceable even as the guitarist and pianist strung together a woodshed’s worth of crazy licks and seemingly unrelated note patterns. They seemed aware of the fact that their vocal work was fairly forgettable, at one point observing that “if this song had words, they’d go right here.” Indeed, words seemed fairly pointless to the overall thing, but were there anyway in an occasion or two where the band channeled a barbershop quartet, just to prove that they could.

For all the conventions the Discordian Society endeavored to avoid, Madrone seemed to revel in them, frantically switching gears between late 80’s thrash and modern power chord strums. While the bass and drums play up the formulaic sound of on-again/off-again “machine gun” rhythms, it is the singer’s guitar that paints the picture. In a layout that is otherwise very by-the-book, the melodies are catchy and fairly unique, helping make the other guitarists’ senseless speed picking bearable and letting the band find their signature, which resides in a most unusual place – the softer side.

Whereas 90% of the harder bands around town get lost when the pace slows, Madrone shines – brightly. As they drop the noise level, the beats become more intricate and the bass begins to sway hypnotically. For most acts, playing the decelerated part in a song means strumming the same 4 chords they’ve been playing, just without all the distortion. The guitars I heard went in a different direction, abruptly taking the shape of early Zeppelin with the airy quality of U2. The vocals, which previously sounded like strained emo whining, are given real emotion through clarity and calmer delivery. This is the strength of Madrone, drawing on the rock/alt metal energy of bands like Tool or the Deftones, but happily avoiding the forgetability that comes with the straight-ahead hardcore that their heavier sections might imply.

Both bands stand on the strength of their originality, giving the Roanoke audience some clever alternatives to the typical weekend entertainment. The casual listener will gravitate toward Madrone’s more identifiable radio-rock packaging, while the Discordian Society is a must for any passionate music enthusiast. Madrone shows the most potential for growth, especially if they embrace and enhance the strength they’ve shown in their subtlety. Discordian Society are more complete in terms of their overall sound, but I’m certain things are only going to get progressively more intense as they strive towards their goal of complete musical insanity.

That’s enough out of me for one week. I’ve got wrap this up and still have enough time to grab the garden hose and ice my neighbor’s driveway before he and his wife get back. See you next time, where maybe I’ll actually review the band who’s show it is.

Maybe.

Thanks for reading, and keep those emails coming. Until next we meet…

- The Phantom