Three Day Threshold

June 23rd 2007 - When Kier Byrnes first launched Three Day Threshold, the Boston music scene greeted his rowdy alt-country band like a henhouse greets a snake. But with focus, hard work and a lot of whiskey-fueled late nights, this bunch of friendly, sexy cowboys slowly earned the respect of booking agents, radio personalities and about a zillion fans. These days Three Day Threshold makes for a guaranteed great party at any of the many clubs they play, while here at home or out on tour.

Saturday night (June 23rd 2007) will be a great party, indeed. Join the band in celebration of their latest CD, Against the Grain (HI-N-DRY Records). Things get started early, at 7pm, at the Cambridge Elks Lodge (55 Bishop Richard Allen Drive, Cambridge, MA), with free barbecue courtesy of Redbones and tons of drink specials. The evening will be packed with great music, special guests and a mechanical bull-riding contest with prizes for Best Dressed Cowboy/Girl, Longest Ride and Most Creative Dismount.

Walking into a club where Three Day Threshold is playing is like finding yourself transported into a backcountry honkytonk. The whiskey never stops and the very air is ignited by their energetic amalgam of rock, country and Irish drinking songs. With barely 48 hours to go before the mechanical bull gets fired up, I chatted with Kier Byrnes over email about country music, girls and really good barbecue.

LBSH.com: I've been following Three Day Threshold for years, and have seen the band with a lot of members. What's the current line-up?
Kier: We have Colt Thompson on guitar. He's been great in helping shape the songs, comes up with harmonies and bangs out some rippin' solos. He even wrote one of my favorite songs of the new album, a trippy little Tex-Mex song called Right Outside the Door. On drums is D.A. King. He's a metal-head turned country; which makes for some interesting influences. He plays like a monster and is a HUGE reason why there's so much energy at our shows. There's no one alive who can crank on the drums like D.A. He's also a really kind guy and good to talk to. Our bassist Johnny Stump is so much like Derek Smalls from Spinal Tap its funny; I can become a maniac but he's definitely the 'lukewarm water' of the band when I "return up my Irish" as he calls it. He's got a great ear, which is a huge help when putting together songs. And he's been slowly weaning himself off of wearing his bass like a lobster bib too, which I think is a big improvement. Ha.
LBSH.com: This group of guys is excellent. They've all been excellent though; you seem to just keep finding awesome new members.
Kier: Luckily, there's no shortage of awesome musicians in Boston. When I started this band, I had no idea if it was going to take off or not. Country music is starting to become hip around these parts again, but when we started out, clubs wouldn't touch us with a ten foot pole.
LBSH.com: I remember when you guys went from playing modest shows to really getting a good buzz. There definitely came a point when the sound just clicked and it seemed that you guys could write your own ticket in terms of getting good shows.
Kier: The shows were so good, we couldn't turn them down. The band was getting some offers to play really big shows all over New England; Nantucket, Vermont, New Hampshire. Now we get calls all the time from all over the place. Yesterday we got asked to play a festival in Tempe, Arizona.
LBSH.com: It seems pretty clear to me that you work your ass off to keep the momentum going.
Kier: It's like that in the music business. It seems that it's hard to get something started, you got to make sure that you keep momentum going. And once its up and rolling, you can't let it stop.
LBSH.com: Is it hard to be part of Three Day Threshold? A lot of indie musicians seem to want to have all the fun, but don't want to work as hard as you seem to work.
Kier: We're a hard working band. I'm a crazy workaholic when it comes to this stuff. I’d say that being in Three Day Threshold isn't for everybody, it's a lot of work, a lot of late nights, and a lot of early morning hangovers. People burn out, people get worn out. I just live for that stuff.
LBSH.com: My pinnacle Three Day Threshold moment was the first time I saw you guys perform “Roll in My Sweet Baby’s Arms.” I was hooked. What’s YOUR pinnacle moment?
Kier: I have been fortunate to have had several extremely awesome rock moments. Playing to a sea of people at Hempfest, recording with Adam Taylor at Camp Street, tipping a few back with the president of Maker’s Mark while talking about them using one of our songs, hearing my music on MTV, meeting girls that are way too good looking for me and bringing them home after a shows (the girl I’m with now is way out of my league but she still keeps coming home with me after a year and a half!), headlining a sold out St Paddy's Day show at the Paradise this year and having everyone in the room lift their glass and sing along to our songs.
LBSH.com: It is impossible not to sing along with most of your songs, they're so catchy and fun. They're the kind of songs that bring the people together.
Kier: Anytime I see someone out in the crowd singing along with the words to a song I wrote as they come out of my mouth, it blows my mind.
LBSH.com: You also play traditional sing-along songs like “Whiskey You’re the Devil.” That song rules.
Kier: "Whiskey You're the Devil" has been a crowd favorite ever since I started playing it in college. It actually appeared on our first album, Homecookin. We printed thousands of copies of that album and unfortunately completely sold out of it, so if you have a copy, you're lucky.
LBSH.com: I have them all! Of course I have Homecookin. Thats got "Roll In My Sweet Baby's Arms," and a recipe for pork stew inside.
Kier: It's now a collector's item. We decided to rerecord "Whiskey You're the Devil" and re-release it. It's still a staple of our set, so new fans have access to it now.
LBSH.com: What are some other traditional songs one is likely to hear at a live show that you haven’t recorded yet?
Kier: Really depends on the night. There's this song called "Come Out Ye Black and Tans" I want to give a shot at recording for the next album. We'll see. If you want to check out some tunes we've done, go to i-tunes; there is a slew of unreleased material posted there. There's also a ton of free downloads in the discography section of our website, www.threedaythreshold.com.
LBSH.com: Those recipes in the CDs, are they yours? Where do those come from?
Kier: Ha, I can't cook to save my life, but it's fun to try. Each album we have done includes a recipe in the CD tray that's been passed down from someone close to the band. Colt's recipe that appears in Against the Grain has become on of my favorite dishes.
LBSH.com: Well Against the Grain has become one of my favorite dishes. This might be the best Three Day Threshold release yet.
Kier: I'd have to say that this one is the best ever. The songwriting and singing are really good if I do say myself.
LBSH.com: You really surprised me with some of the new songs. “Uni” is a particular favorite.
Kier: "Uni" has already proved to be a fan favorite and connected with a lot of people. I co-wrote that song with George A. Hayden, the father of Ward Hayden, the lead singer of Girls, Guns & Glory. It was originally a poem Mr. Hayden wrote for his daughter when she was young and we turned it into a tragic love story. The dilemma in "Uni" isn't that dude's girlfriend gets hit by a train, but that now he can’t decide which half he likes better. It's that dark sort of humor that makes us happy.
LBSH.com: Is it my imagination, or has your singing voice lurched forward into greatness? Have you been taking lessons? You sound great.
Kier: Ha, yeah, it is your imagination. No seriously though, thanks, that's been an area I've been working on. My grandfather was a professional singer in the big band era; he was a crooner and toured on the same circuit as Sinatra and Bing. He also played semi-pro football (the NFL hadn't been invented yet). I have absolutely no athletic talent, so I was hoping I'd get some of the singing genes.
LBSH.com: Oh, you've got 'em alright. You're also very charitable. Tell me about some of the benefit shows you’ve played.
Kier: We do a lot of charity work I'm proud to say. MassCann is a cause we have supported over the years; it's about the decriminalization of marijuana (we got to legalize it man!). Rodfest is a concert we do every year to raise money for the Gregory Moynahan Memorial Scholarship, a scholarship in the name of my cousin who died in a car accident a few years back. So far, we raised $35,000 in three HUGE concerts, the most recent being a sold out show at The Paradise in January. For the past several years we do an annual Christmas fundraiser for the Children's Hospital as well as fundraisers fro What's Up Magazine, a magazine that helps support Haley House, a shelter in the South End.
LBSH.com: It's so inspiring; you're so busy with your band, and writing for several publications around here, plus working. How do you find the time to devote to charities?
Kier: For us, music was never about making money. I like to help people and I want people to enjoy life.

Take a cue from Kier and the boys and enjoy life this Saturday, June 23rd, 7pm-11pm at the Cambridge Elks Lodge (55 Bishop Richard Allen Drive, Cambridge, MA). Don't forget to wear jeans; those mechanical bulls can chafe if you're not careful.

Spottiswoode and His Enemies

(July 2007)

It’s hard to believe that it’s been four years since a chance encounter with the Spottiswoode and His Enemies 2003 release. Some publicist had randomly mailed me their then-latest CD, a sprawling 17 tracks busting with dark rhythms, violent echoing effects, soaring horns, sweet harmonies, confessional singing and a gift for poetic lyrical expression.

I immediately fell in love with this band’s crazy dynamics, every player a god of his or her instrument, and Spottiswoode's masterful language. Who could resist lines like "She likes English accents and chocolate desserts/She takes pills for her diet and cheap cigarettes/And she is who she is but much more and much less/A tiara on speed who knows how to dress." Musically I was reminded of Nick Cave and The Tiger Lillies. There was a definite flair for the dramatic — not the bright lights and glamour of corporate theatre, but the soiled stockings and old lipstick stains of seedy cabaret.

I was hooked, but what I couldn't know then, and would learn later, was that Spottiswoode and His Enemies have a lot more to offer than the dark cabaret of that self-titled release. The follow-up releases would explore a wild range, from punk to gospel. Answering “well, what’s the best Spottiswoode CD?” would be like answering the same question about Bowie or Bjork. It just depends; but it’s all great.

Spottiswoode and His Enemies headline Johnny D's (Davis Square, Somerville, MA) on Saturday night, July 21st 2007, and I got a chance to chat with front man Jonathan Spottiswoode about English accents, the Beatles and something he calls “the performing monkey syndrome.”

LBSH.com: We have a local Boston guy who’s been affecting a British accent for years, presumably because he thinks it makes him more interesting. Are you really an English dude, or is that just something you came up with years ago to seem more interesting to Americans?
Spottiswoode: I really am English. If I was gonna pretend to be something else, I’d have picked Brazilian.
LBSH.com: Your body of work arcs from one “feel” to another, meaning that a person who first encounters Spottiswoode based on one CD may be surprised at how another CD sounds. Take me through your musical evolution, and what feeds that reshaping of sound.
Spottiswoode: There may not be as much of an arc as you think. I have been writing punk tunes and wannabe Cole Porter ballads on the same day for a very long time. I may be getting a little mellower with the years but I shouldn’t even say that. I’m the youngest of four boys. And I still haven’t decided who I am or who I want to be. A formative record for me was the Beatles’ White Album which goes all over the place in terms of genre. It’s a celebration of songwriting, music and of basic expression. Alas, I’m not the Beatles. And also the times have changed. It makes more sense to carve up songs I write into groupings that fit more obviously together. Though even then our records are more eclectic than most.
LBSH.com: Because of your ability to be so flexible with genre, do you think you lose your audience along the way, or take them along for the ride?
Spottiswoode: I am all too aware that folks in the business can’t really handle us. And also that many potential fans might hit us on the wrong night or hear the wrong record for their tastes and then dismiss us. One of our biggest fans apparently hated us the first time she saw us. Her friends had to drag her back kicking and screaming to a second show a few months later. After that we became her favorite band.
LBSH.com: What makes a song great?
Spottiswoode: I haven’t an effing clue. It’s a bit like what Justice White said about pornography: you know it when you see it. Or hear it in this case.
LBSH.com: Then cite some examples.
Spottiswoode: Obviously, the Beatles and Bob Dylan wrote a ton of great songs. However, even though they’ve been covered a lot, only a few times have the covers measured up to the original performances. So for the last forty or fifty years we’ve been in an era of auteurs, eg singer-songwriters. You may have to go back further to the tin pan alley writers to really know about great songs that didn’t need the writer/performer/producer to make them great — Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Johnny Mercer etc.
LBSH.com: You've got me thinking about would I rather see an amazing performance of an average song or a shoddy performance of a great song. It seems pretty obvious when phrased that way.
Spottiswoode: I could write a novel about this. Well, there are average songs that can become great because of an amazing performance or recording. And there are plenty of great songs that have been ruined by the wrong singer (like me!) and arrangement, and thus never make the canon.
LBSH.com: I have a delicate question about performing. To me, a non-performer, it seems that if I WERE a performer, the dream process would be to write songs, play my songs for people, and be extremely happy when those people love what I’m doing, request their favorites and sing along. So what's with growing weary of being asked to play favorite requests? I don't need to have read your blog to find that this happens to you…
Spottiswoode: Ah, the performing monkey syndrome. Lexi, it’s all about feeling alive. We all go through life in a numb state most of the time. Some of us more happily than others. Artists do what they do for various reasons. But mostly just to feel alive, to feel that they are expressing themselves in the moment, transcending their troubles. Of course, attention from fans can make you feel alive too. Everyone likes attention. It is incredibly rewarding to hear strangers ask you to play a song you’ve written, especially when you’re starting out. It’s a dream come true. I understand if folks in the audience feel that the artist is ungrateful if he or she doesn’t grant a request. Okay, here’s the other side of the coin…you’ve played a particular song in many places. You’ve had magical moments with that song, unforgettable even. The song is like a lover. If you play it too often, especially when you don’t feel like it, it can dilute the memory and the affection you have for it. The other thing is this: every set of music is an emotional journey for an artist, especially an artist playing their own songs. Each song you play means something significant to you (even the so-called “novelty songs”). And they mean something different to you on any particular night. This is the part about feeling alive.
LBSH.com: So it can be like a restaurant patron asking the chef, proud of the dish he’s turned out, to please pass the salt.
Spottiswoode: Perhaps you have played a few soulful songs and a few songs about past relationships. Perhaps that combined with the weather and the lighting etc. has taken you to a raw and melancholy place. At which point someone requests a funny song or an angry song. On a particular night, that song may be the perfect prescription for you to snap out of where you are and take the show to the next place. But on another night, it just feels wrong and dishonest and abrupt. Not to the audience, I understand. But to the artist as an individual with his or her own tired bag of emotions and memories. Each song in a set is an antidote to the song that came before. The wrong combination and you can poison yourself.
LBSH.com: That's quite deep.
Spottiswoode: Call me a low budget drama queen.

Temper

January 27, 2007 (Somerville, MA) - Tonight is the 20th Anniversary Party for WAAF DJ Carmelita, whose Sunday night radio show, Bay State Rock, has long been the touchstone for many a local rock lover in Massachusetts. The Abbey is decked out with food, cake and balloons and the atmosphere is in full-on party mode. Carmelita herself is in attendence as hostess, resplendent in a smoking leather biker jacket with scuffs and creases any teenager would kill to show off, and her manic energy is infectious as she roams the room hugging old friends, making introductions and handing out drink tickets.

For this history-making bill, the kick-ass queen of local rock radio has invited a blend of hot new acts (Hooray for Earth) and respected veterans of the Boston music scene (even Springa as emcee), several of whom (The Outlets, The Moving Targets) have re-grouped original line-ups especially for the occasion.

Temper starts things off early on the Abbey Pub Stage. Appropriately enough, this four-piece band is a blend of the “new” and the “veteran” and as their set begins, band leader Pete Sutton (definitely a Boston rock veteran) cracks a joke about the median age level in the room. It’s his way of warning the young people in attendance that they may not recognize the first tune, an easy, breezy rendition of Traffic’s 1971 “Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.” It’s a great way to start off the set, which meanders from the well-played Steve Winwood classic to a full set of tunes Winwood wishes he wrote.
Though the primary songwriter, Pete sticks mostly to bass duties, only contributing back-up vocals occasionally. Instead, the primary singing is left to keyboard player Carlene Barous (ex-Din) and guitarist Skyla Fay. With their distinctly different voices snaking around intricate keyboards and the light finesse of drummer Nancy Delaney, Temper delivers a fluid kind of progessive, dreamy jam. Though there are a few surprises, they pull mostly from their newly released debut, Hang By Your Own Tail. It’s a subtle yet sophisticated sound, gorgeous to listen to and yet totally memorable.
A standout is “The Wave,” a serene sail on a quiet piano-driven sea that bobs gently over a subtle bass line and even gentler, almost comforting, drums. “Wee Regret” introduces a device Temper goes back to again and again to great effect — layered vocal harmonies singing “oohs” and “aahs” and “la la la’s”. That’s always a bold move in a small venue with no sound engineer, where singers can’t always hear themselves well enough to pull off tight harmony, but on “Wee Regret” and the several other harmony-driven dreamscapes, this band doesn’t miss a note. At times the languid, atmospheric wash brings to mind alternative low-key acts such as Air or some Massive Attack, but at others, such as on the beautfiul “Aquamarine,” a bigger pop sound is introduced. “Aquamarine” is marked by a bouncier rhythm and totally irrestistible chorus you’ll be singing for a week after one listen. Even more irresistibly gorgeous are the dual vocal lines of the lower-pitched Carlene and sweet, high tones of Skyla. When they invite you dreamily to “Sail out to sea…serene…” you can’t help but follow them into the Aquamarine.

Shoot the Moon

March 15, 2007 (Somerville, MA) - There’s rock shows, and then there’s motherfucking awesome rock shows. Shoot the Moon make it their business to know which is which, to the sheer delight of the Thursday night “moon troopers” gathered at the Abbey Lounge.

When I walk in they’ve just launched into “Over Again,” a spit-shined rock anthem that started 2007 by charting big on High Octane Radio. Speaking of high octane, front man Sammy Miami is in rare form tonight, swiveling his skinny velvet-clad hips and enticing the crowd to throw the rock horns, clap and sing along. Always a dynamic stage personality, tonight Sammy’s between-song banter pops with a particularly theatrical flair, likely made all the more energetic against the laid-back cool of the other guys. Roger Moon on bass, always fun to watch, oozes a super cool vibe matched only by guitarist Matt Sullivan. Speaking of Matt Sullivan, can you die from non-chalance? If so, this dude’s in danger. Maybe he needs all of his mojo to pull out his considerably smokin’ guitar licks, which when combined with those of fellow axe-man Adam Aufiero make for the most face-melting (yes, I said it) double-team guitar attack I’ve heard around here since the last time I saw The Hidden.

The thing about Shoot the Moon, the single most endearing factor, is their unapologetic, non-ironic full-on tribute to the gods of southern rock. This is a band with a boner for the free birds, the truckers and the back porch pickers that inspired the likes of BTO, Skynrd and Aerosmith. There are times during the set, such as during the coke addict rocker “Kick the Candy” and the Patriotic set closer “Blue Roots,” where the “stick it to the man” factor is almost too much, but their total committment to it just brings you along for the ride. Just go with it, man. Throw the horns, you know you want to.
The highlight of the set is of course “It’s All Good,” what you might call “the hit” given its big huge video, so professionally done and for such a great song that you cannot help love it. 

Uploaded to Youtube by MiamiVision on May 23, 2009

Video directed by Lawerence Sampson.
Shoot The Moon was a Boston based rock band 2005-2009
"It's All Good" is a single off the Aim High album.

Shoot The Moon:
Sammy Miami - Vocals / Percussion
Roger Moon - Bass
Vic Dobson - Drums
Gino Caira - Lead Guitar
Matt Sullivan - Lead Guitar

White

June 02, 2007 (Boston, MA) - With the capacity to hold over four hundred rock-hungry fans, Harpers Ferry is a daunting room for the average indie band. Listen to the Boston old-timers talk and it sounds like packing a venue with four hundred “back in the day” was a breeze. Maybe before cable TV and the Internet. These days, the show has to really kick some major ass to sell out, at least in Boston. So I’m happy to see that on this night, Harpers can barely contain the party. Outside on the sidewalk I have to squeeze through an intently smoking throng before I can reach the snarly door dude (does it suck to work here, because they never smile at this place) who’ll take my ten bucks and ink my hand. I indulge a moment to internally carp about the ten dollar cover, and to wonder what kind of damage I’m sustaining from all these years of ink stamps, but there’s no time to ponder — White is the band I came to see tonight and they’re about to play.

Having been knocked flat on my rosy ass by White’s CD last month, it’s time to see if this five-piece powerhouse can deliver the goods in a live show.

They get into it right away with a few songs from The Size of Our Souls, the aforementioned CD. But from where I’m standing, right in front of the stage, I can’t hear one damn vocal. By facial expression and physical stance I can see that wild-eyed Jonny P (lead singer) and earnest Ed (keys, back up vocals) are singing their stalwart hearts out, but all I hear are guitars and cymbals. I’m trying to sing along with “Nobody Loves You,” but I find I’m pretty much lip-reading to keep up. “Nobody Loves You” is a real rocker with hooks to kill or die for, but it’s only going to kick your ass if you can actually hear it. Going under the assumption that no self-respecting soundman would let the mix go like that, I eventually head way back to the sound board and stand there. Yep, it’s the sweet spot — from right in front of the soundman I can hear all of the fiery vocals White offers in the form of Jonny P, but I can’t see the form of Jonny P. Which is unfortunate –this rock star is too good looking to be walking around on the planet with the rest of us, and his pants (brown corduroy, I think, but this remains safely unconfirmed) are in league with him to make every chick in the room frothy with desire. Alas, Jonny and his pants have to carry on without me because really, I just want to hear the band. So back at the soundboard I remain.

One of the key experiences gained from seeing a band live, and I’m reminded of this from my tween years when I saw Duran Duran with fifty thousand other scrunchied, moussed-up fourteen year olds, is getting a whole new sense of band dynamics. I seem to remember one of my girlfriends pogo’ing whilst squeezing my neck and screaming “Andy’s SINGING!” during “New Religion.” We didn’t know, see, that it was Andy Taylor doing back-up vocals during the refrain.

On the record, White’s Led Zep-inspired, Floyd-tinged tunes are packed with awesome psychedelic moments that sound studio-produced but actually are performed live, such as “The Story,” which I didn’t expect to hear in the live show for some reason. There are aural details on the CD that I thought were studio effects or distorted guitars courtesy of guitar god/producer Jim Foster, but turn out to be some serious sonic soup sent up by Ed, the definitive Emerson of this band. It’s cool how certain musical elements, assumed to be mere footnotes, are actually a hefty part of the musical storyline. Simply put, White’s material is performing its own stunts. These guys are the real deal.

Stage presence gets a big thumbs up, too. Every night in this town the people come out to see a rock show, yet ask me how sick I am of seeing that slackjawed, vacant expression that so many indie musicians seem to think is cool. Fucking hell, rockers, give us a show! White picks up that ball and runs with it. On keys, Ed plays with his whole body, arching and swiveling in some sort of wild keyboard gymnastics. And drummer Delaney, I had no idea the dude was so fiercely watchable. His moves, his groove, fills and hits and his showmanship rival that of my favorite drummer in town, Brian Viglione (Dresden Dolls). This is totally unexpected for a rock band like White. I’m humbly reminded that an aggressive, hard-hitting drummer can still exude artful finesse without giving up any sneering rockitude. Melodic drums are almost undefinable, but I know it when I hear it. It sounds like the opposite of banging pots and pans with wooden spoons. Whatever it is, this kid Delaney (first name? last name? Hello, where did he come from?) knows how to bring it.
 
Jonny P’s soaring vocals earn White a lot of their their buzz, and indeed his talents are buzzworthy. When Jonny P gets his sweaty grip on a melody, he seems dead set on using it to prove that rock will never die. It works, to great effect, most of the time. But there are moments when I find I’ve zoned out for a minute. I think what’s going on is that Jonny’s using some stage time to experiment with how far he can push it before his head pops off. It may serve the set better if he’d sing the songs with less of the histrionics; we all know you can sing, kid, let’s not sacrifice the melody line for the sake of the ultimate rock ‘n’ roll battle cry. (Put another way, think of the R&B pop stars who trot out every note in the western scale, and even some other scales, to sing the national anthem at ball games and take five minutes to get through “Oh say can you see.” That’s irritainment. Who wants to be that guy? Once you’re that guy, you might as well start wearing a T-shirt with your own face on it. Jonny P doesn’t need to be that guy, right? Right. Jonny P gots chops. Just sing the damn songs.)

Lyrically Jonny aims to captivate, invigorate and charm, embracing the snarling grit of the born rock rebel while incorporating just the right amount of what I’ll hereby dub “casual sleaze.” I mean that in the best possible way. I mean it, this guy is a rock star.

Taken as a whole, the White live experience is a fine product, totally worth paying Harpers too much money to go see. Rock on, boys, I’ll be at the next one.

Ian Adams

Photo: Terence Burke

(January 14th, 2008)

This is what’s great about living in Rock City — you can pop into O’Briens, everyone’s favorite Allston dive, and catch a bit of indie music history in the making. On this icy Monday night we get cheap Tequila, a mere $3 dollar cover and some friggin’ awesome low rock. Okay, maybe the Tequila shouldn’t be quite this cheap. That stuff’ll kill you.

Ian Adams (Rock City Crimewave, 8 Ball Shifter) has been lording over Boston’s skull-crushing sleaze-a-billy rock scene since he was barely legal. Now the dark prince of Lower Allston has donned another crown — solo artist. Ian, aka EEE, is gearing up for his first solo release due out on Midriff Records. The word on the street is that the Midriff team is working magic with Ian’s low key acoustic meanderings, but so far all that’s out is a few Myspace rough mixes and live cuts, so you gotta wait, dude.

Tonight’s live line-up is intriguingly sparse — it’s just Ian on guitar, and Crimewave drummer AJ at a really pared-down kit. I can’t wait to hear what this is going to be like — these guys are usually face-melters, after all. They’re playing first, so the room is just starting to fill when they launch into the first song, “Upsidedown Stars.” And it’s a total surprise. It’s the kind of cool song that starts off with what ends up being the chorus — that means the sort of audience members who sing along with the choruses can join right in with Ian’s vocals. “You’ve got upside down stars in your eyes,” it begins earnestly, then tells a tale riddled with corpses and risky goings-on. Chances are the song isn’t even about anything, but the lyrics do pack a punch anyway. Particularly compelling, in a Violent Femmes kind of way, is the verse:

I do believe we are the last of our kind
Our drunken blood is the devil’s own wine
I smash the headlights out ‘cuz I like driving blind

They follow“Upsidedown Stars” with “Stay Up Late,” a self-deprecating, romantic crooner. By the time the guys launch into the more up tempo “End of a Rope” with its chunky, swamp-a-billy stomp, I realize that I am ALL ABOUT Ian Adams and his big wet kiss of a solo project. It’s just plain old awesome low rock. With simple-yet-aggressive guitar lines and a plaintive, effective vocal approach I’m getting hit with a torrent of possible influences. In the vocals I hear equal parts Neil Young (think Barstool Blues) and Violent Femmes’ Gordon Gano. There’s a certain bratty punk quality reminiscent of The Clash, and a certain too-cool-for-school swagger of Lou Reed. This is rock stripped bare; anything confessional is quite raw, and anything anthemic is quite personal.

Ian ends the set with the most unexpected cover song. It’s Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab.” By now the cozy dive’s audience has tripled in number, so this dynamic duo get the full-on fist-pumping sing-along. Even from me. Yes, I stood in O’Briens and yelled along to an Amy Winehouse song, and dammit, I’ll do it again!

The Luxury

In a quirk of fate, this excellent CD entitled Why We Can’t Have Nice Things exists because a bunch of Boston dudes all loved Oasis and didn’t care who found out. The short version of the story is, at the request of a popular Boston disc jockey, some members of crowd-pleasing pop bands (The Halogens and Baby Strange) joined forces in 2004 to form “FauxWaySis” and perform a one-off show. “I drank more than I ever drank before a show, ever,” reports front man Jason Dunn. “And people kept bringing me drinks because, you know, I'm Liam Gallagher and I've got to be drunk. I got so drunk that by the end of the show I actually fell back into the drum set.” At the end of the show Jason had to be carried offstage and some enterprising crowd members took the microphone to sing “Cum On Feel The Noize.”

Jump ahead to 2007, several line-up changes, an ex-girlfriend or two and voila, here is The Luxury and a killer debut CD several years in the making. For sheer instrumentation and production brawn, this debut is way more polished than one might expect from an indie release. It’s Jason on lead vocals, drummer Steve Foster, guitarist Daanan Krouth, bassist Justin Day and keyboardist Brooks Milgate. The guys did all the production themselves, mostly in Jason’s bedroom. His cat even appears, in a happy accident, in a sorrowful vocal (well, a meow) at the end of track one, “Let Go.”

It’s a bold move, taking a tribute band and going all-original. But if The Luxury’s appeal relied solely on that fact, by now they'd be playing soul-sucking wedding receptions and hotel lounges. Instead, the eleven tracks on Why We Can't Have Nice Things indicate that frontman/songwriter Jason Dunn has loftier goals than mimicking Liam Gallahger's drunken antics forever.

He also has a few demons to purge. Every song here explains in some way why, in fact, we can’t have nice things. These are chronicles of shattered relationships, betrayal, self-loathing and human idiocy. “It’s not a concept album, but if it were, the concept would be ‘this is what it’s like to be Jason Dunn.’”

A great deal of the pop appeal is just how eclectic it gets. With some country licks, some electronic wizardry, some zoned-out ambiance it really makes for a dynamic listen. Giving himself permission to go wild stylistically is something Jason didn’t do in his former band, The Halogens, and regrets. “The ultimate example of that is probably the last Halogens record, The Resolution EP, which was six songs and really highly polished pop music. But the rest of what would have been that record went in all sorts of different directions. Looking back on it, I really wish it had been released that way. Because I feel like any time I try to go too far in one direction I wind up shooting myself in the foot.” Standouts are the radio-ready “Rockets and Wrecking Balls,” “Malcontent” and “Seven Stories.” (Lexi Kahn)