Bachelors Of Art Reunite At Jam Room Music Festival

With all the attention Jay Matheson has been getting around town this month leading up to his Jam Room Music Festival, the fact that he’s playing a reunion set with Bachelors of Art (Also known later in their lifespan simply as BOA) has almost been an afterthought or aside. For anyone who was active in Columbia’s music scene in the 80′s, however, this is an event of major proportions and reason enough to show up on Saturday afternoon.

The only previous reunion since the group quit playing twenty years ago was at 2007′s Rockafellas Reunion gig, where they performed to a full house like they’d never stopped.

“It’s hard to remember 2007 now, I was apprehensive for that show, for coming back from being gone so long,” BOA’s lead singer Robin Wilson Hall says. “I wondered what it would be like, and it turned out to be a great night.” She isn’t as nervous this time around, she claims.

“I’m such a perfectionist usually but even though the nerves are still there I’m not as worried about whether or not it will be just right,” Wilson Hall says. “The older you get, we’re just appreciative of being able to go out there and do it again, and it’s fun to hear Tom (Alewine, BOA guitarist) and it’s fun to be back in Columbia.”

In addition to Alewine, the one constant member of BOA’s various lineups, Blake Liles will again fill the drummer’s seat as he did in 2007.

For most BOA fans, Robin Wilson’s voice was the signature of the band, but she wasn’t even the group’s original lead singer.

“I was in another band before BOA and Rick Griffith (drummer for local rockabilly legends the 88′s) told me they were looking for a new singer, so I went and auditioned with Tom,” She remembers. “A lot of the early songs we did were written for their previous singer, we didn’t start writing together for a while because they had all these songs already written but it evolved from there with Tom writing a lot of the material.” It took the addition of Matheson on bass to solidify the group’s sound, she says.

“With Jay, it became a real hard rocking band,” She says. “We were looking for a new bass player and Tom mentioned Jay—I said ‘oh, no, he’s too hard rock for us.’ Jay joined up and really helped define the band’s sound from that point on.” For Robin, there was really only one goal from the start, musically.

“I wanted to be Peter Murphy, singing as low and as dark as I could,” she says.

The band ended up as a Gothic rock powerhouse, along the lines of Sisters of Mercy but with Wilson’s pipes setting them apart from the rest of the region’s more popular acts. She remembers how hard it was back then to even find the kind of music they were into.

“It’s so different now, when you have such easy access to discover different kinds of music,” She says. “We had to find out on our own, WUSC was the only real way to get in touch with what was considered ‘alternative’ back then, before that became just another marketing term.”

Speaking of marketing, Wilson Hall found some treasures recently from the band’s heyday in an unlikely place—her garage.

“I found a bunch of BOA bumper stickers in a box in my garage,” She says. “My mom gave me a box of my stuff she found when she moved, and there was all this band stuff in it.”

Having done the ‘band stuff’ with both BOA and her Atlanta-based band Skirt for many years, Wilson Hall is realistic about this week’s show and its place in her current life.

“It is not just physically but emotionally hard to go back and sing these songs,” She says. “Once you leave that lifestyle of being in a band, riding in a van with three or four others for long distances and not much money, you know better—but while you’re involved in it, you’re blind.” Even though she wouldn’t do it long term again, Wilson Hall says she’s looking forward to Saturday’s set at the Jam Room Music Festival with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

“I have been coming back and forth to Columbia for practice but can’t be at all of them, so I used our CD to rehearse here at home,” says the current Atlanta resident. “I started crying at one point when I was singing along to the CD and wondered ‘how am I going to get through forty-five minutes of this?’”

She’ll do it with the support and presence of another packed audience of fans, new and old.

(photos and video in this post are from the 2007 Rockafellas Reunion show at 5 Points Pub)

The Jam Room Festival is a free concert on Main Street in Columbia, SC on Saturday October 13^th. BOA takes the stage at around 4:30 p.m.

 

 

 

 

Rockafellas and Me, Part 6: Friends and Favorites

One of the things Rockafellas always seemed to allow was a close-up relationship between the bands and the audiences, whether it was hanging out in the parking lot before and after the show, or sticking around for all-night drinks in the Purple Pit, the level of access was always on a personal level.

Two of my favorite bands during the 80s were the Silos and The Reivers, and there was a week when both of them played at Rockafellas within a couple days of each other. The Reivers played first, on tour supporting their first Capitol Records album, Saturday. The Austin, Texas band had a front line consisting of the powerful voice of Kim Longacre and the deeper, more grounded vocals of John Croslin, which gave them a unique sound that really has no counterpart in current music that I can think of, other than the interplay between Caitlin Cary and Ryan Adams in the early days of Whiskeytown.
They had an off day or two after their show and decided to stick around to hang out with their friends in the Silos. Before the Silos show, I had the opportunity to spend an hour or two talking with Cindy Toth, the bass player for the Reivers, and we hit it off enough that we traded a couple of postcards in the mail that year.
The Silos had just released what has become their classic album, Cuba, and they were sporting the classic lineup of the band, which included Bob Rupe ( Who later joined David Lowery’s new band, Cracker) as well as the lone remaining original member in the current version of the band, Walter Salas-Humara. These guys were alt-country before there was a term for it, and songs like, “Tennessee Fire,” still hold up well today. Walter even played a special request for me that night—I had cornered him before their set and asked for a song off the Silos debut album, “A Few Hundred Thank You’s,” Which Walter apologetically said they didn’t really play live any more, but he’d see if he could remember it. He did, and to this day I can still hear the song and sing all the words without the lyrics in front of me.

Poi Dog Pondering came through Columbia for the first time with only an EP available, and they busked on campus at USC before talking Rockafellas into a show. Their shiny, happy acoustic pop collective had one guy who was touring with them only until they got to New York City (they started in Austin, Texas), where he would join up with another band, Javelin Boot.

Another similar band was Tiny Lights, who hung out before their show on the picnic table that was out in front of the club, kind of between it and the Subway shop next door. They played funky, acoustic pop/rock and released several really good albums, but their biggest contribution to music is probably their cello player, Jane Scarpantoni, who has gone on to play with everyone either in studio sessions or touring. Google her name, or look her up on Allmusic.com.

House of Freaks, somebody reminded me, blew the roof off the place with their two-man band, years before White Stripes popularized the lineup. Drummer Johnny Hott was an unconventional percussionist, with a 55-gallon barrel for an upright bass drum, and his ‘sticks’ were baseball-bat sized wooden rods with what looked like actual baseball bat donut weights on them. “Bottom Of the Ocean,” is still a great song, as is, “40 Years.”

Another personal favorite was Thin White Rope, a California band whose music was an unclassifiable blues/metal/prog rock blend. Guy Kyzer, the singer, had a gravelly, guttural voice that fit the rhythmic tension of the band’s Can-influenced tunes perfectly. Their one show at Rockafellas was loud, fast, and kind of a blur, to be honest.

Most of the rest of my Rockafellas memories are also much like a blur. I’m as surprised as anyone else that I’ve remembered as much as I have this past week—thanks for the comments and emailed memories you’ve passed along, too.

I’ll close by noting a couple of shows that didn’t happen, for one reason or another. As one reader commented, Skinny Puppy was scheduled to play the club, a show booked by Carl Singmaster of Manifest. The part of the story I’ve been told over the years was that the band arrived at the club and said they couldn’t do the show because the stage was too small for their full lights/smoke/etc. production. They then left. Carl reacted by pulling their albums from his stores for years afterwards.

The night Hurricane Hugo came to town, or maybe the night after, there was a band called the Sea Hags scheduled to play, an L.A. group that was being touted at the time as the “next Guns N’ Roses,” or something like that. They even made it to town, but the show could not go on due to lack of electricity, of course.

This weekend’s shows will have plenty of power, I’m certain, and I’m looking most forward to the reunions of Treadmill Trackstar and 49 Reasons, as well as the set from Sourwood Honey. In the words of another veteran of Rockafellas’ stage, Webb Wilder, “Work hard, play hard, eat hard, sleep hard, Rock hard, grow big, wear glasses if you need ‘em.”

Rockafellas and Me, Part 5: The Shows Must Go On (and on, and on, and…)

Only a few more days until the Rockafellas Reunion and I keep remembering stuff. Here, then, are some more great shows I’ve dredged up from my admittedly spotty memory.

Hoodoo Gurus were a hugely popular band on the airwaves of WUSC, so when they played Rockafellas the place was packed. “Bittersweet,”
Leilani,” “Kamikaze Pilot,” they played them all, even their current MTV song of that particular time, “Good Times.” The Bangles sang backup on the recorded version, too bad they didn’t make the tour. The refrain is particularly fitting for the Rockafellas Reunion, however—“All the good times we’ve had, we’ll have again.”

Roger Manning was another WUSC-created phenomenon, and he’s played Columbia a few times over the years—first, however, at Rockafellas. His first album, on SST, is still his best, showcasing the anti-folk, punk blues acoustic music he helped create in New York City, along with Kirk Kelly, Cindy Lee Berryhill, and others in the 80s. All of his songs had “Blues” in the title, and most were numbered, too, like, “Train Blues #4,” or something like that. To this day, I couldn’t tell you the name of any of the songs on that debut, but I could probably still sing along with them.

The O’Kanes are kind of a lost name in country music circles, but they played Rockafellas on what I think was my 20th birthday. Their album, Tired Of the Runnin’, was pretty good, if a bit commercial, I thought, so I went to hear them that night. The duo consisted of Jamie O’Hara and Kieran Kane, an arranged marriage of sorts for two Nashville songwriters that worked for a few years. Kane, has gone on to more indie-country ways with his stake in the Dead Reckoning label and a string of albums with folks like Kevin Welch, O’Hara as far as I know is still writing songs in Music City.

I first saw and heard Angie Aparo at Rockafellas, on the back deck if I remember correctly. His 1997 album Out Of the Everywhere included a minimal, acoustic band, and that’s what he had with him the numerous times he played on the deck. His bald egghead look came later, back then Angie sported a pretty substantial goatee and usually a knit cap on his head. His percussion player had originally been in Edwin McCain’s first band, and if you ever find a copy of Edwin’s first demo tape, that guy’s on it. Angie was the kind of guy who inspired a rabid following, I still listen to that first album a lot.

Uncle Green was another Atlanta act that played Rockafellas a bunch. The first time I saw them was after they’d released their first DB Records album, the one with, “Chemical Way,” on it. They played a great cover of T Rex’s “Jeepster” that night, as I recall, but the funniest thing that happened was actually before the show, in the men’s room. I was tending to my business when someone else about to do the same came in, talking to his buddy about whether they were going to pay to see the band or head somewhere else. I said something complimentary about the band, I don’t remember what, and convinced them to stay for the show. Well, out of the ‘stall’ section of the mens room comes Matt, Uncle Green’s lead singer/guitarist, who had heard the whole exchange, and he thanked me for the plug and introduced himself. Later, he gave me a copy of their new LP, which I still have.

More to come….

Rockafellas and Me, Part 4: Big Names, Small Names

With the responses I’ve received from the previous installments of these musical memoirs relating to the many great shows I saw at Rockafellas, my memory was jogged about a few that I have so far left out, so here they are in no particular order.

Some of the artists I was lucky enough to have seen at Rockafellas were pretty big names already, while some went on to become bigger names. One of my favorite shows there ever was when Roger McGuinn played a solo acoustic show—I’m drawing a blank on the year but I think it was around 1988 (He played twice, the second show a year or so later he played solo but with his electric Rickenbacker guitar, not the twelve-string acoustic.), and around a hundred or so people showed up for what was a pretty pricey show for the venue—I think it was fifteen dollars to get in. McGuinn, of course, was the voice of The Byrds, the classic California folk-rock band, and this show was at a time when McGuinn really wasn’t making albums (His first “comeback” album, 1990’s, Back From Rio, was still a couple of years off.).
The best way to describe the cozy, communal vibe at this show is to compare it to a campfire sing-along, where everyone knows the words to all of the songs. McGuinn played the hits, from, “Eight Miles High,” to, “Turn, Turn, Turn,” and he played slightly lesser-known songs like, “Chestnut Mare.” That song he included in a little mini-set within the show where he told a story about aliens landing and all sorts of odd thing happening—“Hey, Mr. Spaceman,” was in this portion of the show, also.
The most memorable thing about this particular night, however, may have been how it ended. McGuinn stood outside the front of the club signing anything anyone had in their hands, from old Byrds album covers to the back of my torn yellow ticket stub. When the last person had finally wandered off to find their car, McGuinn himself put his guitar in the back of his Volkswagen Van and drove up Devine Street, all by himself, presumably to the next town and his next gig. I can’t recall another major rock musician I’ve ever been that close to who had absolutely no entourage, no pretentiousness, and just an utterly disarming thankfulness that people still came out to hear him play and sing.

My 21st birthday was spent inside Rockafellas, though I don’t remember much of the band playing that night. I remember who it was—Matt “Guitar” Murphy of the Blues Brothers Band fame—I just don’t remember much because it was 10 cent draft night before 10 pm those days, and my girlfriend at the time bought me enough cups of draft to last me until I puked or passed out, whichever came first. (For the record, I don’t recall doing either.) My parents actually came to town, bought me a birthday dinner down the hill at Yesterday’s, then walked up to Rockafellas with me to buy me my first legal drink. We walked inside, they looked around for a few minutes, bought my drink, and left me there. To this day, the only thing my mother remembers about it was that the floor was sticky.

Faith No More played Rockafellas a couple of times, including one show just as their song, “Epic,” was starting to get some major airplay nationwide. The crowd was a sweaty, over-capacity mass of people, with a mosh pit up front throughout the show. At one point, the pit consisted of a half-dozen girls (Including my future wife, wearing Army boots) and the guys they were with were all positioned around the edge of the pit slackjawed, watching the ladies rocking out.

The grunge epidemic didn’t leave Rockafellas unscathed, with several major figures in the flannel nation playing in the early 1990s. One memorable show included Mudhoney and the Fluid, which was a Sub Pop Records band that for my money was the best live band that label ever had. Another show included Das Damen, Firehose, and Screaming Trees. The Trees went on to fairly big things for a few years, while former Minuteman Mike Watt’s band Firehose didn’t last too long either. Das Damen is the one on that bill that nobody today remembers, yet they were a pretty intense, psychedelic band—not grunge in the least, though.

North Carolinian Don Dixon is best known these days for his reputation as a record producer, but even though he was already producing back in the 1980s, he was also putting out his own albums. One night at Rockafellas, Dixon played with a backing band that included Robert Crenshaw (Marshall’s brother) on drums, Angie Carlson (Let’s Active) on keyboard, Dixon himself on bass, and Spongetone Jamie Hoover on guitar. For the encore, Dixon got back on stage and looked behind him at the paintings of rock icons that hung on the wall above the original stage—pictures of John Lennon, Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, and Bob Dylan. He then proceeded to announce that for the encore the band would play a song from each of the artists in those paintings. With Hoover in the band, “Revolution,” satisfied the Lennon requirement, while “Roll Over Beethoven,” took care of Chuck. I can’t remember what Elvis song they played, but when it came around to Dylan the band was almost stumped. Carlson made the mistake of claiming to know the chorus and melody to “Like a Rolling Stone,” and so Dixon made her play it—she only got through a chorus or two before the band collapsed into, “Hey, we don’t know the rest of this song,” territory.

Lava Love was a cute, poppy little retro band from Atlanta, all Beach Blanket Bingo attitude and Jan & Dean guitar riffs. The best time I saw them at Rockafellas was when they were playing to a small crowd one evening and a drunk patron kept yelling for various Bon Jovi song requests. Rather than play an actual Bon Jovi song, Esta, the singer, just introduced every song, “This is a Bon Jovi song,” even though it was actually one of their own originals.

More to come….keep the responses coming