SLM, The Hue, Fatbook @ the Miramar Theatre – March 18, 2010

Words: Cal Roach

Milwaukee should be very grateful for the return of the Miramar Theatre as a live music venue; not only is it a great sounding little room, but they serve quality beers at a good price. The place brings in a wide variety of local and national talent, but it has become known primarily as a haven for jambands and metal. In a somewhat curious triple bill on March 18th, fans got a chance to experience both specialties, with mixed results.

[Photos of The Hue by Joel Berk]

The first act of the night was Fatbook, based in Appleton, WI, but drawing members from Minneapolis, Chicago and other Midwestern hubs. You’d expect such a far-flung collective to have little opportunity for rehearsal and thus lack cohesion, but these guys gave no such impression. The first few tunes were lackadaisical, with no real excitement from the three-piece horn section. Singer/guitarist Harjinder Bedi was giving off a lazy Jack Johnson-meets-Jamiroquai vibe, and nothing original was going on via lyric or music. But as the show progressed, the band unveiled some pretty terrific horn arrangements, jazzy but melding unscrupulously with Police-style Caucasian reggae. The motley band began to show remarkable synergy, whether crafting a murky moodscape or generating a kinetic dance groove. No long jams, short and purposeful, often integrating the horns really well into the improv.

Ultimately, Fatbook (Bedi in particular) needs to develop a more original sound, something to set it apart from the pack stylistically, but the pieces of the puzzle are all there. Above all, these guys have the togetherness to create that magical swell of intensity as well as hold together in the mellower stretches, and a horn section that can carry the whole band through its more generic moments. That’s worth your ten-dollar ticket price right there.

READ ON for more of Cal’s thoughts on this triple bill…

It was unfortunate for the headliners that they had to follow The Hue. Almost the polar opposite of Fatbook, The Hue is anything but laid back, relying not on jams or dance grooves or even words; rather, intricate metallic guitars and Earth-shaking drums. Before long, the heaviness had cleared any faint-hearted hippies from the floor. Those who remained surely had their minds blown–particularly if this was their first exposure.

We were treated to a brand new, untitled tune, in keeping with The Hue’s tendency towards King Crimson-esque dissonant, angry chords and dizzying time signature shifts, and it seemed as tight as anything they played.

The real treat was when the band settled into the epic Bipolar Pride. The thrill is only partially in the complex composition; the middle stretch is a showcase of guitar improv, Brian Gilmanov’s explosive drumming acting as the rattling lid on a boiling stew. It’s not nearly as chaotic as it seems, but the effect is frightening unpredictability. Both guitarists (Mark Rezak and Jared Rabin) wound tighter melodies into their solos tonight than I’d heard from them before, and the soaring climax came together in a blood-curdling rush.

Overall, The Hue’s music isn’t overtly malevolent, but the sheer force of it undeniably disrupted what might have otherwise been a pretty mellow night of music. SLM came out with plenty of energy for a bunch of career stoners (as saxman Matt Ostlund kept reminding us, in case we hadn’t noticed the multiple pot leaves circling their logo), and right off the bat, I was drawn in by the band’s pleasant guitar/sax harmonizing. Unfortunately, it was a formula that wore thin quickly, a slave to another crop of jamband 101 songs.

Ostlund is a heck of a player, pitching in spot-on vocal harmonies to accompany lead singer/guitarist Don Woppert, and there was nobody onstage who seemed sloppy or untalented. But in this day and age of jamband glut, talent is not enough; you need IDEAS that transcend local-potheads-make-good, or the ability to take your jams into uncharted or at least super-potent territory, and these guys are evidently content with contentedness. Woppert’s guitar tone was so generic that after a decade of festivals, I almost couldn’t hear it. Covering Also Sprach Zarathustra, painfully unoriginal. Not a single lyric or melody stuck in my head after the show. It’s great that we can expect top-notch musicianship out of this scene, but SLM has a long way to go to avoid being forgotten.