The Regretful Review

Last night I went out to a house party and saw a friend's band play. Having friends in bands can be a hassle, I have learned. First, there's all of the shows and the $5-10 cover charges, and then later you learn that your cover charge was used to pay the band that didn't get around to putting you on the guest list. That's a hassle, but not a big deal, no. The slap in the face, the coup de grace, what I find heartbreakingly frustrating is the emotional investment (I finally have the luxury to move this problem front and center because I have a smaller base of friends, and thus less bands to follow, support, and promote) involved in having friends that play music. Because the chances of a friend's band being good are small. Microscopic. Or the chances of being able to take that band in anything but small doses, think even more dismally small. None of my friends' bands have ever been my favorite band, or have played the music that I like. But, as a rule of vanity, I try to surround myself with talented people, people with something to bring to the table. So these people are good musicians, and even if it isn't my first choice of music, it is still good music, sometimes. It's also amateurish, which makes it even more of an impressive feat when the music is good, when it is really interesting to hear, because then there is a hope, that distant glimmer of a long hollow chance that after a lot of time and some hard work, then maybe it could be something, that maybe it could reach that emotional pitch of perfect, favorite music. And that's my emotional investment. Good things come from hard work. And to see friends piss away that investment, and not quite have the personality to take things where they need to go, to sacrifice and all of that bullshit that anyone who has ever been successful says about making anything that has ever been worthwhile, to see friends piss away my hope, and not have it in them to Do What Needs To Be Done makes me jaded and want to stop going to shows forever. Because who should expect that from their friends? just for a little bit of aural ecstasy? Well I think we should. People say some stupid things about music, but for once, for fuck's sake, let down my expectations and put in the effort and the thought to make it happen.

That said, here's what I saw last night and got excited about.

Cloudcraft. No genre. Soulful, atmospheric, moody and even a little bit of heart stirring warmth. They started with a 60's soul cover that I didn't know but made me want to dance. I've forgotten what Amber O has secreted away in her mouth and throat, you don't hear it in conversation, but when she starts to sing, she has pipes, like chrome and brass, a church organ and a motorcycle exhaust and she thrusts it out in front of the layers of sound created by the rest of the band--trumpet, I don't know what to call them but guitar textures, box drum, and the haunting clarinet that hides and lurks beneath all of the sound, tying everything together like the catalyst for a goo that sucks you in, that won't let you go from its warmth and sound. But the thing that rides above it all is Amber's voice. They prop her up on this thing of oozing music beneath. After the first upbeat song the band switched to a much more down tempo, moody sound. These were the songs that they were writing themselves, this was their sound. I wanted to say that I liked the cover more, because it was exciting, because it made me want to dance, but I couldn't unravel myself from the moods of sounds. It was just on the edge of some real emotional sophistication. Because that's what music can be--a fucking screwdriver in the throttle of feelings; a snare for dragging in the direction of emotion that the musician wants to go--a tool for manipulating the subjective experiences of a group of people. I couldn't say that I didn't like their sound more than their cover, because the mood that they created, the masthead of amber's voice, almost took me like they knew exactly where to go. They were on the cusp of success at the thing that live music once remembered it was supposed to create--an experience. Watching them play made me wonder what a band is again. This was thoughtful music, and it was hard to fight off that feeling that I was there, that I was present and participating and inside of something that was happening, that was real, and that would make me feel real a hundred years from now. But I had to fight it off because that would be exposing myself to too much vulnerability, to too much of the tested and true possibility of the failure of the Good Thing. Lets hope though. Lets hold our breath wait for that honey music song to soothe the calluses off our damaged and disappointed ears.

I don't describe sounds. Listen for yourself  

!!!

or buy it off of iTunes.