The Bowery Presents

The Bowery Ballroom upcoming shows

Mudhoney

Pissed Jeans / White Hills

Venue:
The Bowery Ballroom
Date:
Sat 9/04
Notes:
18+
Doors: 8:00 PM / Show: 9:00 PM
$20 advance /$25 day of show
Tickets
Mudhoney
official website
myspace
When Mudhoney issued its debut EP, Superfuzz Bigmuff (named after the vintage distortion pedals used by guitarists Mark Arm and Steve Turner), and a bilious Stooges-worthy single, "Touch Me I'm Sick," it birthed Seattle grunge. Arm and Turner are Green River alums, just like Jeff Ament and Stone Gossard, who went on to form Pearl Jam. Whereas Pearl Jam updated the anthemic possibilities of early '70s arena rock, Mudhoney played as if it had emerged from the same '60s garage in which Pacific Northwest heroes the Sonics honed their no-frills assault. Equal parts alienation and inebriation, the quar-tet's music never caught on commercially like that of their peers Pearl Jam, Nirvana, and Soundgarden. That's because Mudhoney's records boast a caustic, dirty-fingernails sound that falls just short of slipshod. - Greg Kot, Rolling Stone
Pissed Jeans
official website
myspace
King of Jeans. The title of Pissed Jeans’ third album and second for Sub Pop conjures their essence perfectly—-masters of the mundane, beasts of the banal, high priests of the humdrum. These four, white, male high school graduates hardly look further than their own appendages for artistic inspiration, content to execute their own brand of brash and heavy punk music in the Joe Carducci-approved standard rock formation of guitar, bass, drums and vocals. From simple minds and simple fabrics comes this King of Jeans, perhaps also a slight nod to the variety of Pissed Jeans-inspired groups that have crawled up since 2007’s Hope for Men. After all, there can be only one.

If 2005’s Shallow was Pissed Jeans coping with moving out of their parents’ homes, and 2007’s Hope for Men their initial reaction to the mechanical lifestyle of a wage-earner, King of Jeans is their formal and uneasy acceptance of adulthood. The age gap between the members of Pissed Jeans and high school girls is no longer something to be overlooked—-they hoped for men, and sometimes you get what you wish for. Backs get sore easier and stay sore longer, record collections have reached their breaking point or have been sold entirely, and procreating is becoming a more pressing issue. What are you supposed to do when you are unable to break out of the standard, middle-class American life cycle that you never really wanted but don’t have the energy to subvert? When you are forced to understand that it’s all madness but know fully well that someone will have to take care of our aging parents? Well, Pissed Jeans went ahead and made one hell of a rock record. Working with renowned producer Alex Newport (who holds a Fudge Tunnel pedigree and has worked with such luminaries as At the Drive-In, The Locust and Sepultura), Pissed Jeans have pushed further into the raw, minimal core of heavy rock music with King of Jeans.

Less frequent are the extended noise passages that made Hope for Men so frightening, replaced with a buffet of riffs capable of feeding Tad for a month. Opener “False Jesii Part 2” (feel free to Google part 1) is classic Pissed Jeans with its circular, fuzz-soaked riff, pounding rhythm section and unwound vocals, a call to arms against the social lifestyle while admitting that yeah, they could still partake if they wanted. “Half Idiot” calls to mind vintage Birthday Party with its rumbling groove and splayed guitar. “Dream Smotherer,” “Lip Ring” and “Dominate Yourself” carry the same massive weight found in previous cuts like “Secret Admirer” and “I’m Sick,” pummeling the listener at a variety of speeds while tackling such issues as office life and the unrequited love of women steeped in ostensibly dumber subcultures. And then there’s the Sabbath-built self-defeat of “Spent” and simple plea of “Request for Masseuse,” played as if the loving hands of Blue Cheer’s Randy Holden were guiding the session. And this is coming from a band who, while writing this record, spent more time with the first three Danzig albums than most Fiend Club members.

It’s also worth noting that this is the first record that bassist Randy Huth has played on, he of both Drag City recording artists Pearls & Brass and Randall of Nazareth. A close friend of guitarist Bradley Fry and singer Matt Korvette since high school, his full-time Jeans status has helped to complete Pissed Jeans’ take on the cumulative efforts of all heavy guitar-based music of the past four decades. Drummer Sean McGuinness appreciates the random packets of opium he shares at band practice, too.

So here it is: King of Jeans. Expect to see these Jeans on the road for a good part of 2009 and 2010, as previous shows have paired them with acts as oddly fitting as Om, Black Dice, Flipper, Boris, Harvey Milk, Mudhoney, and hell, they even played with Sage Francis once. When that long hairy arm starts for your face, I recommend you take a good bite.

—Brian Duane, 2009
White Hills
official website
myspace
A label like "space-rock" deserves music that's as nuanced and limitless-feeling as space, and space-rock deserves a band like White Hills. Not only do they add urgency to familiar psychedelic rock templates, but they pay just as close attention to the quiet moments as the raging ones-- each track on their self-titled Thrill Jockey debut displays a careful layering of sounds and atmospheres.-Pitchfork

White Hills have shaken up the space-rock box, and shown that the patterns you can make therein are as infinite as the stars.-The Quietus

If only it had more than two members — White Hills and fellow travellers Oneida — we could cite a Brooklyn space-rock movement, raising the 1970s sonic sublime. Nonetheless, here’s an arch retooling of Hawkwind’s speed-freak psychedelia, those relentless motorised grooves and fuzzy tsunamis of sound shaped and shifted and stretched to breaking point by sassy New Yorkers. Let the Right One In even dares 13 pastoral minutes in the vein of early Pink Floyd, while We Will Rise’s pendulous emptiness echoes the Stooges’ cavernous We Will Fall. White Hills dumb down determinedly to discover their inner ape, and nibble the fringes of greatness.-The London Sunday Times

Like wandering in a dense and druggy fog, White Hills’ self-titled album is like a stoner rock beacon, hypnotically guiding the listener with layer upon layer of fuzz and reverb to some unknown destination.-AllMusic.com

A real contender for psych-rock single of the year, this 7" finds two of today's foremost acts in the field (White Hills and Acid Mothers Temple & The Cosmic Inferno) taking on classic Hawkwind material. 'Brainstorm' is ravaged by AMT, who thrash out in fine style with an expanded arsenal of swooping oscillators and spooky theremin-style pitchshifting. It's an absolute riot, but White Hills prove themselves to be more than a match, tearing 'Be Yourself' a new one (to coin a phrase) laying on the fuzz by the barrow-load, cutting through the fudge with some class-A shred and all-round soloing majesty. Oof...-Bookmat

Heads On Fire throws down grungy distorted layers of sludge that relentlessly churn along. It's neither subtle nor pretty, but god damn it rocks. They take the space rock template and inject it with a battered fucked-up New York punk spirit. -Drowned In Sound

White Hills is turning out to be quite the surprise of the year. After killing earlier in the year with Glitter Glamour Atrocity and releasing a comparable tour CD, the band has fired back again with the UK release of Heads on Fire. The latest release is just as much of a pummeling psych juggernaut as the rest; merging the Hawkwind style space jams with a tight groove of blistery guitars and trembling bass. The band are waving the Space Rock banner high and proud which has already garnered them support from legends in the field such as Julian Cope, for whom they've opened in the UK. The latest album, despite the relentless output this year shows no trace of being leftovers, but instead another album full of thick plumes of ash and turbulent waves of cosmic radiation. The band thrive in making the calm moments exceedingly liquid while still having a knack for fierce waves of noise ridden psych that leaves the space behind and burns like the earth's core. Given the band's current direction I fully expect to see great things from them in the future. -Raven Sings The Blues

'Heads on Fire' left me completely satiated, having taken me places I'd never expected to go. It's wonderful to discover a band who so wholeheartedly embrace the past without ever letting it constrain their vision for the future. I look forward to hearing more. -Nine Hertz

Their previous release,Glitter Glamour Atrocity, found the band experimenting around with a number of different styles from ambient to Krautrock to Spacemen 3 influenced rock, but on their latest outing, White Hills jettisons the experiments to totally consume themselves in balls to the wall, and yep, "heads on fire" total space rock. It's something like Hawkwind on steroids, with pounding drums and throbbing, catchy bass lines, whooshing space synths, barely heard mantra-like vocals, and of course, oodles and oodles of heavy, crushing, effects-laden guitars. -Aural Innovations

Space Rock fans should waste no time getting this album (HEADS ON FIRE). Farflung fans will LOVE this, as will anyone who digs the balls out space metallic jams of early Hawkwind. And solid production has helped White Hills create a MASSIVE sound that will knock you about like some cosmic sledgehammer. Highest recommendation -Roadburn
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