Friday 2
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THE SEA, LIKE LEAD; SHARKS & SEALS Guitarists Todd Mattei and Joe Tricoli, who first played together as two of the many revolving-door members of Tim Kinsella’s bands Joan of Arc and Friend/Enemy, formed SHARKS & SEALS as an outlet for their own improvisations. Clearly they felt that the melodic fragments they came up with were fit to be saved for posterity, but most of the dozen pieces on their debut, It Used to Be Knobs and Machines and Now It’s Numbers and Light (Brilliante), sound unfinished. Their guitar landscapes–acoustic arpeggios, jagged string scrapes, warm elongated electric lines, volume-pedal washes–are consistently interesting and detail-packed, and Mattei’s digital processing adds some additional colors and rhythms. The problem is Tricoli’s tepid, shapeless singing–he often comes across like a kid making up a tune off the top of his head, and Kinsella’s assured guest vocals on “Argentine” only make him sound worse. For this performance the two are joined by upright-bass player Dave Osborn and computer musician Rick Gribenas. –Peter Margasak
Ever since Hurl and Don Caballero shoved off for Chicago, Pittsburgh hasn’t produced much in the way of muscular rock. But THE SEA, LIKE LEAD (the name comes from a Juno song) sticks close to the template of epic drones and burly posthardcore those groups established. On the new self-released EP The Memory Is a Labyrinth, the guitars drift and then run concentric, effects-laden circles around the manic pummeling of the rhythm section, building up tension before a swift howl rips it all down. –Jessica Hopper
HIGH ON FIRE, YAKUZA As a selfish fan, I wish High on Fire would tour a little less and record a little more, but they’re welcome to placate me with stopgaps like the new Live From the Relapse Contamination Festival. Recorded in 2003, it seems like it’s from longer ago than that–little of the material on this year’s Blessed Black Wings had yet made its way into the set. Nevertheless, this is very much the band that blew me away in February with its relentless pacing, drums clattering like some stampeding herd of unimaginable beasts. Metal at its very best, High on Fire transforms the phrase “brutal elegance” from hyperbolic abstraction into straightforward description.
HORNS OF HAPPINESS This band is essentially a solo project for Aaron Deer, who also plays in John Wilkes Booze and the Impossible Shapes. Last year’s A Sea as a Shore (Secretly Canadian) is bursting with lush, if not downright overgrown, psychedelic pop; featuring what sounds like a gajillion instruments (banjo, organ, melodica, sax, and guitars, just for starters), Deer’s tunes have an Elf Power-y sweetness set off by the occasional sour bite. For this show Deer will be joined by drummer Shelly Harrison. Static Films, Drakkar Sauna, and Elephant Micah open. 8 PM, Schubas, 3159 N. Southport, 773-525-2508, $8. –Monica Kendrick
POPSICK In June Ian Adams–who left the Ponys a few months before they put out their sophomore album, Celebration Castle–debuted his new outfit, Popsick. (The moniker was also the name of the record label he operated in the early 00s while playing in the boy-girl duo Happy Supply.) He was joined by Jeremiah McIntyre, late of the Afflictions and Entertainment, and a rhythm section made up of Countdown bassist Steve Denekas and Red Eyed Legends drummer Paul John Higgins. Adams cheekily described Popsick’s sound to me as an unlikely hybrid of the Minutemen and the Byrds–“We’re just really trebly,” he said. But he’s clearly absorbed a few ideas during his time in the Ponys; his new songs incorporate elements of gnarled garage, off-kilter pop, and tortured new wave. The band’s already doing some reshuffling: Saturday’s show at the Electric City Rockfest (see Dirtbombs Critic’s Choice) will be its last with McIntyre, who’s moving to Nebraska to finish college. Adams will keep the band going as a three-piece, and plans to change its name to the Submarine Races. Whale Horse and Hard Place open. 8 PM, Bottom Lounge, 3206 N. Wilton, 773-975-0505 or 866-468-3401, $6 in advance, $8 at the door. –Bob Mehr
