The Atriums' Northside practice space is close, small, tight. It fits us, the equipment and that's it. In this maze-like, huge old warehouse's halls and rooms, other bands play, walk by and shoot the shit. This night, The Atriums are fidgety. Hands clasp and unclasp. Feet twitch. Someone is always picking at a guitar. All five members are multi-instrumentalists.
Ah, there's always a sweet story behind the music. But before we get to the scoop, here are the topics: Hardcore bands wearing Obama T-shirts, Britney Spears' amusing comeback, the '70s, the '80s (we skip the '90s), pizza. Frankie Hill says, "We want to eat pizza. Every single night, pizza."
The band's three-guitar lineup is both an advantage and a challenge. Each guitarist's role changes from song to song, which presents an interesting conundrum for the rhythm section, namely providing a pulse that complements the band's shifting dynamic while keeping it anchored.
I may be talking with The Blue Shivers, but this evening the Sitwell’s Coffeehouse room temperature = a sauna. “How much clothes can we take off before we get arrested?” drummer Dave Palermo asks. His wild hair shifts when he laughs. Like a fiery Muppet.
Maybe it's fitting that in the city that spawned King Records' legendary recordings, including Mr. James Brown, Soul music still sweats and pulses in our Queen City. Los Honchos are the new Soul contenders on the block, and this six-piece combo brings plenty of heat and horns to the party.
Recently I met up with the members of local Reggae giants Super-Massive at The Mad Frog in Corryville, where they play every Thursday. The band is wrapping up a year that's included many successes and milestones, including the release of their self-titled debut CD in September and, just last month, winning their first Cincinnati Entertainment Award.
My search, aided by Al Gore's trusty inter-web, lasted about two and a half minutes. That's longer than most Order 66 songs, but that's OK. My feeble attempts at research are shadowed only by my limited amount of knowledge. Drummer Alex Kuhling wastes no time in his efforts, quickly grabbing a freshly washed glass and mixing equal parts Blue PowerAde and Sierra Mist together.
"Don't name your band after anything that can be put on a mug," says Wild Carrot vocalist/guitarist Pam Temple, offering a cup of coffee adorned with their namesake vegetable. "Over the years we've been given hundreds of things with carrots on them. We have carrot dog toys."
The Turnbull ACs have been called a lot of things, and they think every one of them is pretty funny. As the quartet prepares for a practice on the eve of a studio session at WOXY.com, frontman Dan Mecher and drummer Brian Penick laugh as they recount the mangled pronunciations that have been inflicted on the band.
The past few months have been a season of change for The Strongest Proof, culminating in the release of the band's brief but potent second Post Punk album, "Robot Eats a Steak." Guitarist Tony Roth sheared his mop of curls to a boot camp cut, frontman Matt Tomlinson moved from guitar to bass and bassist Rob Stanley moved to Oklahoma. "I'm the same," quips drummer Tony Bryant over breakfast at Newport's Pepper Pod.
A trip to the mall usually results in a new pair of shoes or maybe an Orange Julius and a pretzel. For singer/songwriter Maurice Mattei, a stroll through the Kenwood Towne Centre resulted in his new album, appropriately titled "Kenwood Towne Center."
The Seedy Seeds have set some astonishing benchmarks for themselves in just three years. Arising from a chance meeting between Mike Ingram and Margaret Weiner at a friend's birthday party, the Seeds have quickly become a scene favorite.
My first open mic: The Full Moon Cafe; a sketchy Virginia club where shots came by the glassful. My hands shook. The redhead host, Jane (Radar Rose), cheered me on. That night, I met my future bandmates. Two of us fell in love. Others fought, sure. Like a band would.
Blackout On this eerie night, the Clifton shops and streets are dark. Think oil slicks. Tar. "I've had more vivid dreams in the past few days," Chris Haubner says as we cross the street. No "W-A-L-K" letters. Just a black box perched there. Uncle Smokin' Joe (Jim Pross) nods quietly.
It takes nature thousands of years to make a brilliant green emerald. It only took Sammy Wulfeck, Brian Kitzmiller, Peter Underhill and Ric Hickey a matter of days to make The Emeralds. And from the start, they were brilliant in spite of being green..