Nestled somewhere up the Hudson Valley between the Brooklyn-ex-pat hipster-adjacent village of New Paltz and the wealthy old hippie-art-kook community of Woodstock lies the former state capital, the quaint little town of Kingston NY. Once a major hub of Hudson River trade and travel for old New York, nowadays the sleepy little town is often forgotten by those of us forever buried in the hustle and bustle of NYC. However while many of us spend our days and nights drowning in the deep ends and graffiti’d overlaps of the NYC art communities, we often overlook some really great bands just a couple hours upstream.
Take Grampfather, the 4-piece rock band from Kingston who’s developed a varied musical styling over the years that takes on a category all its own. Hard to lay name to their genre, they blend layers of psychedelic elements with a garage pop twist, that goes down smooth with a carbonated sweet bubble aftertaste. Their new record 666G comes out Aug 19, and we have your exclusive first listen!
My first impressions of the record was that it was concertedly more structured and had a tighter focus than their older material. While the band, comprised of James Kwapisz (vocals, guitar), Jake Offermann (bass), Tony DiMauro (drums), and Andrew Blot (lead guitar) had previously done well crafting hazy jamier tunes in the past, they seem to have really begun to hone in on their stronger elements on their latest releases.
Right out the gate, opening track “Pawl Mawl Menthawls” immediately clues you in that this record will be taking a more angular and pointedly fun approach than we are used to from Grampfather. A little bit Modest Mouse and a little bit MGMT, it feels like riding your bike over the Williamsburg Bridge at dawn. The jangly guitar lines dance and bop perfectly over the bassline, and everything just pulls and soars right where it needs to before dropping you into the next track.
The band however has not completely abandoned their 60s surf-style element for which they are known. While the cast and lineup of players may have changed hands and evolved over the years, founding member Kwapisz has always been able to carry through a consistent thread to their musical influence. For this reason 666G maintains a sound that falls somewhere between creature feature and spy picture, almost a Munsters meets Hawaii 5-0 crossover episode just in time to hit the waves.
This being their second release of the year, (Gramppapies came out this past February) these tracks feel super fresh, and definitely lean a little more into those summer vibes as the lead single “Hot Dog Beach” with its hot n’ hazy grooves suggests. Not only can you hear the seagulls, but you can almost feel the sand between your toes and taste the salt in the air.
Listen to 666G below and download the album in full 8/19 on Bandcamp.
Kissed by an AnimalI Don’t Have to Explain Myself to You (art by Dima Drjuchin)
There are only a few bands I follow as closely and laud as loudly as I do Kissed by an Animal, comprised of Dima Drjuchin (guitar/vocals), Jon Daily (drums), Tsugumi Takashi (bass, vocals), and Hiro Williams (guitar, vocals). Over the years, our bands have played a lot of cool shows together, and we’ve gotten to know them as great people and friends. But also, they are just a really goddamn good band!
The quartet just released their second full length I Don’t Have to Explain Myselfto You on Handstand Records/EWEL Records, and it’s just as unapologetic as it sounds—though maybe not in the way you’d expect. As much Walkmen as they are Dead Milkmen, this time around the band seems to take a softer, cooler, more calculated approach to their post-punk stoner dream surf hybrid musicality. As Greg Barris writes in the band’s press release, this record is “is a love song from our present spirit to our past identity. Touching on the existential nature of living and growing older while existing in the body of your 20 year old self running through the streets of New York, invincible but not reckless. Past feeling like you don’t fit in, past finding your purpose, and entering the solid foundation of just being the most you you have ever been.”
When you stack it up against their 2019 self tilted debut LP (with fuzz stomp hits like “Lemonade” “Floating Head” “The Good Times Are Here Again” and “In the Clouds”) first impressions suggest maybe the band dialed back the punk a little this go-round. I had thought maybe 2020’s bedroom EP Stoned Eagle (a beautiful piece of musical work in it’s own right and a haunting snapshot of inside Dima’s mind during the darker days of the pandemic) may have bled into and softened the edges of I Don’t Have to Explain Myself to You. But when you actually line up these 2 masterpiece LPs side-by-side, you see that simply isn’t the case. KBAA somehow manages to expertly rearrange the same components, stretching gritty overdriven punk guitar over ethereal dream scapes in order to tell a whole new story this time around. It’s cut from the same cloth of the KBAA imagination; the only difference being where and how they punch the holes in the canvas.
Kissed by an Animal performing in 2021 (photo by Kate Hoos)
From the very start of its deep pocket bass/drum intro, the unassuming lead single “Be” immediately grabs you, hooking you in like an earworm even before Drjuchin’s quirky vocal inflection proceeds to burrow its way into the back of your brain. Both Drjuchin and Williams execute the guitar work with impressive technique. The attention to texture and tasteful interplay between the two is almost surgical in its delivery, both often playing far below their individual skill set to perfectly suit the needs of the song. Takashi’s picked basslines drive the entire operation with a thick clean melody that ties all the other lines together while anchoring it like bunches of bright balloons to the unbridled raw force that is Jon Daily behind the kit.
The result here is by far greater than the sum of its parts, and the entire record tugs and pulls you between quick tempo drivers like “Songs About New York” and spacey cruise control coasters like “Lack of Plan and Attack,” it often switches those gears and pace literally mid tune. This is particularly impressive given the fact that almost every track on the record clocks in anywhere between a minute and a half and three minutes in length.
Much like their live shows, where it often seems they deftly smash like 45 songs into a 30 minute set, I Don’t Have to Explain Myself to You obviously follows a carefully laid road map leaving little room to breathe, though you never really notice because you’re already strapped in for the ride. And when it’s over, you wanna go again.
Kissed by an Animal performing in 2021 (photo by Kate Hoos)
This LP (much like their last) tends to live on my turntable and spend a lot of time in my Spotify rotation. As a result the record grows with me and my favorite songs tend to change more often than I change socks. At the time of this writing, however, the powerfully haunting “Unicorn Baby” intro track trods with its percussive slam thudding over the “I don’t wanna die” vocal crescendo into a wash of cymbals and ringing guitars usually saved for the end of an LP or live set. It is an oddly effective and obvious fakeout into the up-tempo “Negative Joy” signaling we’ve officially strapped in for the ride.
I could write an entire other piece on the color explosion artwork that runs a direct line through every piece of the KBAA brand straight into Dima Drjuchin’s imagination. Also a visual artist his entire life, Drjuchin has mastered an extremely unique and recognizable style that can be seen all over NYC via countless show flyers and artwork for local musicians and around the world, having done art for musicians ranging from Father John Misty to Tool, The Flaming Lips and many more. So while the music grows out of the collaborative relationship between its four extremely gifted players, the visual component of the band has always been pure Dima Drjuchin. Both frantic and reflective at the same time, there is a meditative quality to its balance or maybe lack thereof. I personally purchased a stunning, rare and unique hand-painted test pressing of I Don’t Have to Explain Myself to You from the band before its release, but then upon seeing the official finished artwork, I was completely compelled to buy another copy. It’s just that good.
The record, just like the title, and like the band itself is reflective and true to its core. Beyond pretension and without bullshit, this is a band that knows exactly who they are. There is a quiet confidence that connects these four friends, and that comes across in how they carry themselves as a band, as artists, and as people. They no longer feel the need to try and impress you with how hip and cool they are, but at the same time probably exude the most genuine gratitude when you appreciate the caliber of their work. And it’s really hard not to.
I Don’t Have to Explain Myself to You is out now via Handstand Records/EWEL Records and is available on all major streaming platforms.
Do you have 22 minutes and 31 seconds? That’s the total running time of 95 Bulls lo-fi rager debut LP Go Home which came out just in time for your next trip to the beach. An accidental Brooklyn supergroup formed from loose members of local acts (Ash Jesus, Smock, Bipolar, Jelly Kelly, and Mystery Lights), they came together in the darkest corners of 2020, because as the band says “they all wanted to make music for fun while their bandmates were scattered but after one meetup everyone decided it was best to write a record and get married.” The band quickly began turning heads with their tornado of livestreams and outdoor performances any time and anywhere they could gather their gear and a crowd.
Pulling a crowd never seemed to be a problem for the band though, and very quickly they realized they were onto something, the “accidental turned purposeful,” according to the band. What ensued was an onslaught of singles, lots of cigarettes, power wheels, proms, and not very much basketball. Soon they were sharing stages with Wavves, Sheer Mag, Dirty Fences, and Sunflower Bean, playing venues like Bowery Ballroom and Bryant Park Summer Stage, and not to mention every hot show every time you turned your head in Brooklyn.
Like a rusty buzzsaw dropped into an old grimy bathtub of reverb, 95 Bulls are like listening to The Von Zippers with a mouthful of quaaludes and pop rocks in equal measure. Often the main melody line focus bounces between vocals, and guitar riffs, and keys, almost hypnotically pulling your brain under its spell, erasing your memory and then punching you right in the face. Unarguably, Emily Ashenden (vocals) leads the charge with her Janis Joplin meets Mia Zapata style grit and growl, but if you’re a guitar nerd, guitarist Zach Inkley is probably the shredder that tickles all your soft spots. At its core, Zach Butler (drums) and Dom Bodo (bass) are lock-stepped into the rhythmic pocket forming the true spine of the operation. For me personally, however, it’s really Kayla Asbell (keys) that provides the band’s signature as it’s that organ that immediately clues you in that you are indeed hearing 95 Bulls usually even before Ashenden’s distinctive vocals start.
95 Bulls performing (photo by Kate Hoos)
At times satisfyingly frantic, the record is rife with killer freakout tracks like “Crazy” and “Trichotillomania.” But for every song that has you gladly tearing out all your body hair and pow-pow-power wheeling yourself to the nearest bodega to slam a Red Bull and a bag of chips, the band birthed from beneath the bowels of popular live music spot Our Wicked Lady also delivers one like “Your Dad’s Watch” that explores darker grooves and heavier elements, leaving you lyrically a little terrified.
However, what this old punk rocker probably finds most impressive lies in the jammier loopier tracks like “Young Love” and “Red Nails.” Despite leaning hard here into a sonic area that can easily tread into boring and unremarkable repetitive jam band territory, 95 Bulls somehow sidesteps this entirely by creating a sense of urgency and purpose, clocking even their jam songs all in well under three minutes.
Go Home is an impressively solid debut from a band that was never supposed to happen. This Brooklyn ensemble of lovable misfits found themselves a musical conduit for their creative reservoirs and found each other when there was no outlet for live music. The songs themselves seek to connect rather than isolate. In these strange times, 95 Bulls doesn’t ignore the heaviness around them, but at the same time they find a way to embrace having fun amidst the madness. And we can certainly all use more of that.
Go Home was self released and is available on all major streaming platforms. Catch the band Aug 10th at Market Hotel with Namesake and LA Witch.
Scroll down for pics from the release show for Go Home (photos by Kate Hoos)
Twee punk band The Loneliers are back and with a new record just in time for summer. The trio never really went away, but it’s been four long years since their last album, Best Night Ever, and the follow up single “Sunblock.” The ensuing dark days of the pandemic kept the band pretty quiet, so it’s refreshing to see them return to the stage to support their latest release, Enough Already, signaling that the world of pop punk is indeed healing itself.
Kicking off with an instrumental intro that is a bit mathier than we’ve come to expect from the band, the long-awaited EP signals right away that while it in fact delivers on all the things we’ve come to love and expect from The Loneliers, this record has a few surprises up its sleeve. “Caution: Distracted Driver” immediately smacks us in the face with their signature sock hop bop pop and bubblegum harmonies, but with a nod toward more sophisticated songwriting that quickly rears its purple-mohawked head.
Don’t worry though, sisters Jessie Rodriguez (guitar/vocals) and Debbie Rodriguez (bass/vocals), along with drummer Caitlin McMullen, haven’t abandoned the summer-soaked, beach and convertibles and sunglasses style of punk we can’t help but love, but this time it’s more mature and wrapped in a cool leather jacket. And this time around, the band tells us, they “had enough time to figure out how to make this EP sound amazing (and) are very excited for everyone to hear it. As you hear Enough Already, you can hear how different it sounds from our past albums.”
Despite the band’s penchant, however, for humorous catchy hooks and pop sensibilities, they often function merely as an overlay for some heavier topics and more serious issues. The band explains the darker guitar riffed “No,” with it’s punchy beat and chunkier melodic lines addresses “gaining the voice to say no and fighting for your autonomy in a society that almost just lets it happen and victim blames” in situations of sexual abuse. “BA in Uselessness” is a 2-steppin bass drive with a killer guitar lead soaring right into the vocal line, which describes “being told that you’ll be successful if you do all the right things, but you get stuck at a job you hate. You feel helpless and useless.” The Loneliers have always spoken their truth and put it all up in the forefront for you to take it or leave it. They seem to dive into their experiences a little deeper on this one, and the result is a more vulnerable yet more confident record.
Whether they’re singing about love or loss, or just simply equal rights for all humans (“The Rights Song”), this tightly knit trio knows exactly who they are, and that voice is apparent on every song. So while Enough Already may fall somewhere on the scale between Chixdiggit! and The Beach Boys on too much coffee, I’d say it in fact more accurately falls exactly on The Loneliers and in a place that is uniquely them. I’m very pleased to see the band putting out new music and pumped to see them on this year’s Punk Island on Saturday July 23rd at Maria Hernandez Park. (Read more about the fest.)
Enough Already was self released and is available on all streaming platforms now.
I’m not crying, YOU’RE crying! Grief manifests itself in different ways, and the loss of our beloved Brooklyn DIY space, Pet Rescue, which just closed its doors after a legendary 10 year run has me oozing all the feels. DIY spaces come and go. Often, many shutter before we get a chance to check them out, and if one lasts more than a few years even it’s a miracle. How Pet Rescue managed to last a full decade without even the cops being called once is beyond comprehension. The place may as well be a thousand year old goddamn unicorn.
If you’ve ever been to Pet Rescue’s loft space—tucked behind 2 large truck beds on the loading docks at 346 Morgan Ave— you understand. And if you haven’t, I’m truly sorry. Brian LaRue (Safe Houses FKA Shelter Dogs) found the place on Craigslist in 2012, and over the next 10 years, hundreds upon hundreds of the best local musicians, as well as countless bands touring thru NYC, would find a safe, friendly, and inclusive place to connect (and sometimes crash) with the other weirdos in the Brooklyn community. Barely held together by found lumber, duct tape, and old windows from Brian’s parents’ house—and definitely not legally zoned for residential use—it felt like home every single night and I fucking loved it.
But LaRue actually lived there for the first 6 years and change, as did PJ Levine (La Di Das, Significant Others) who took over the place and moved in from 2019 until he was evicted last week. It was nothing short of a very carefully calculated decision by LaRue as to who would take over Pet Rescue upon his departure, as the integrity of stewardship of the space was paramount in passing the torch. PJ didn’t miss a beat fostering and continuing the ethos of Pet Rescue as his own, navigating through the darkest times of the pandemic which befell him shortly after being handed the keys.
So obviously Pet Rescue wasn’t all sunshine, bubblegum, candy and roses. Running a DIY venue—especially in Brooklyn—is HARD. There was the constant and looming threat of being shut down, the poorly ventilated sweltering summers and freezing winters. Not to mention hosting shows in your single room not-exactly-legal apartment in itself can be a huge pain in the ass. So it’s really not at all surprising that LaRue never intended to start a venue. He just wanted to throw parties and have a place that his and his friends’ bands could play. Steve Perry (The Planes) recently said in the final weeks “It’s not a cultural landmark, and was never trying to be. It’s just a good fucking house party, with loud fucking bands, and cheap fucking beer. And that’s why I think I love it so much.”
While it was a high honor that my band, Nihiloceros, got to return and play the penultimate show a week before the doors closed for good, it was LaRue’s band (now Safe Houses) who fittingly played the final bash along with The Rizzos, The Burning Sun (from Burlington VT), Significant Others (Levine’s band), and Reclining Nude. Brian beautifully and quite perfectly summed up the spirit of the place in a spontaneous off the cuff toast mid-set that commanded the complete attention of every soul in the room. “It was you guys that saw more in this place,” LaRue said. “And you taught each other how to treat each other.” That’s really always been the heart of Pet Rescue; people gathering and making space and working together to help one another out and have a good time.
Interior of Pet Rescue (photo by Sam Sumpter)
Pet Rescue was really a testament to embracing the weird curves life puts in your path; the joyful surprises and happy accidents. Jon Daily (The Black Black, Kissed by an Animal, bandNada) added “Brian nailed it in his toast. Pet Rescue is about saying yes to things slightly outside of your comfort zone and following the opportunities that arise…and rock and roll. It’s also about rock and roll.”
Pet Rescue was really a special place, built and run by special people who put in a lot of thankless work and lived the unseen stresses and hassles for years just to give us this place to exist and play. And we all breathed life into that old cozy loft week after week, month after month, year after year for 10 fucking years. That’s nothing short of amazing. And that’s also why it’s not really ever gone. It’s the people who make up Pet Rescue and while it’ll be sad to know the wood and the plaster has all been torn down and gutted, its soul will never die.
It lives on in places like East Williamsburg Econolodge, Catfarm and Rubulad. Jon Daily (who runs Econolodge) called the final show “a perfect finale for Pet Rescue—a celebration, not a funeral.” The very final set at Pet Rescue fittingly began well after midnight technically into the next morning of the next day. Justin Ferraro, bassist of The Rizzos, leaning into the microphone saying (now years after their infamous show there where someone literally tore out all the plumbing) “We are the Rizzos and we’re here to kill Pet Rescue…again.”
