INDY'S WEEKLY ALTERNATIVE NEWSPAPER HIGHLIGHTING ARTS, ENTERTAINMENT AND SOCIAL JUSTICE

Web exclusive: Everything, Now!, Quiet Hooves, Grampall Jookabox at Radio Radio

Grampall Jookabox

I experienced Grampall Jookabox’s set vicariously through an older couple sitting at the round tables at Radio Radio. They’d probably headed out to scenic Fountain Square for night up, or maybe they were aging hipsters — didn’t look the part though. But either way, they seemed out of place. I figured they’d be visibly mystified by the band, which at least for Friday night’s set, consisted solely of David Adamson.

He sat down at a drum kit, looked out at the empty floor, put a special shoe with a tambourine duct-taped to the outside and started a pre-recorded loop. He started playing a driving, rudimentary drum pattern and started singing. This was no “Psycho Killer” in Stop Making Sense moment. This was abrasive, difficult and childish.

It was also delightful.

Few artists capture the essence of childish creativity well, but Grampall Jookabox manages to sound like a kid in the garage pounding on garbage tins with kitchen utensils without making the audience feel like the hapless parent forced to listen. His ingenuity recalls the work of Daniel Johnston, though Johnston’s addled mind never managed to create something as diverse and subversive as this.

By the time Adamson began assembling the loop to “Ponta,” I think one-half of the couple was amused, the other bemused. And in the great empty space between their table and the stage, a few others — mostly members of other bands on the bill — seemed captivated.

It’s appropriate to example the cross-section Adamson’s audience. He played largely to indifference, but that didn’t stop him from exhibiting sustained exuberance. During moments when his loops were complete, he’d grab like an MC and stride in front of the drum kit. He hooked florescent lights to his knuckles and his forehead. He danced. In another setting, Adamson’s shtick would have been rapturous. But at least for tonight, in his hometown, Adamson doesn’t draw a crowd. 

But Adamson hasn’t quite perfected his live show. Part of the joy in his performance was watching him assemble the loops in his urban Americana piece by piece, loop by loop. But in the blank space between composition and performance, Adamson misses the opportunity to get the crowd into what he’s doing. At times his oddness simply overwhelms the strength of his compositions. His live show hasn’t reached the epic heights of Dan Deacon, whose one-man live act has drawn raves for its energy and engagement.

Adamson’s still a smart enough performer to save his best for last. He set a pulsating drum loop up and ventured out in front of the drum kit, then the floor, then back. The new song was called “The Girl Ain’t Preggers,” and it is any indication, Grampall Jookabox’s second album is going to be a different ride than his debut.

Quiet Hooves

Quiet Hooves hail from Athens, Ga., city of the 40 Watt Club, Drive-By Truckers, R.E.M., Of Montreal and of course, Neutral Milk Hotel.

Neutral Milk Hotel would probably be the most accurate comparison to Quiet Hooves eclectic, cerebral sound. But there are strands of Suicide, Tom Waits, Talking Heads, Man and Live Evol fusion. At the same time none of those comparisons are really accurate.

It’s nothing and everything at the same time.

The band fits seven musicians on stage, and its sound is appropriately busy. All that density makes it hard to experience Quiet Hooves for the first time. There are moments of obvious genius, such as the inspired “Your Troubles” and “Your Body.” Other songs are simply too cluttered for virgin ears.

The studio cuts of many of these songs clear some of the confusion out of the mix, but cut much of the rippling energy out of the songs. While that might be a classic paradox for many young bands — especially DIY acts like Quiet Hooves, who don’t have the cash or the means to do their songs justice in the studio — it causes other problems. It makes it difficult to assess just who Quiet Hooves are. I was interested, but I didn’t know why. There’s something there, but I don’t know what.

In those moments of clarity and inspiration, Quiet Hooves come off as effortlessly brilliant. The composition of these tunes aren’t just complex, their like mazes. Find your way out and you’re enlightened. Get stuck and you’re just simply lost.

But the band is going places.

Everything, Now!

Everything, Now! have been quietly prepping the follow up to last year’s inconsistent Ugly Magic, playing new material at live shows and hitting the studio to record. For Everything, Now! this is an old routine. They’re veterans on the scene now, and have gone through more reincarnations than is worth counting.

The current lineup might finally be one worth rivaling the band’s most vital and important period, the Police, Police-era, when Everything, Now! shows were an event. But now they’ve scaled back. Singer/songwriter/guitarist Jon “Crafty” Rogers and longtime keyboardist Drew DeBoy are joined by bassist Dave Carter and Dan Schepper. It’s as slim and fast as the band has been in a long time.

The band played mostly material from the last two albums — Bible Universe and Ugly Magic — as well as material from the new album. 

Several of the new songs are fantastic live. While Everything, Now! has always balanced a few different musical inspirations in one song – Bowie/Brian Wilson, T-Rex/Bowie, ect. – the band’s new material has been especially daring, if only because Everything Now!’s popularity has receded in recent years. But they seem intent on following their own muse.

One other benefit of the smaller lineup: You can finally hear Rogers sing. In the past, it was almost impossible to hear Rogers over the din of as many as 10 musicians all doing their own thing. Rogers sounds like Richard Hell, which is really cool because we all know Richard Hell kicks ass.

Maturity fits Everything, Now! like a glove.