The BroodЭрис
время прошло, так особо и не наступив
- Повідомлення
- 12 196
- Реєстрація
- 17.07.08
- Репутація
- 15 562
Тетеньки родом из Портленда, штат Мэн, ЮЭсЭй. Собрались вместе в 1983 году и играют, так словно в мире ничего не меняется с конца 60-х. Меня они просто очаровали своей энергетикой и какой-то настоящестью, что ли. По жизни - совершенный андеграунд: о скандалах, интригах, расследованиях гугл партизански молчит. Сайтов, спейсов, видео как-то тоже обнаружить не удалось. Посему:
Эта женская группа родом из Портлэнда, штат Мэн. Она сформировалась в 1983-ем и куда более известна на Восточном Побережье и в Европе, чем в другой части собственной страны.
Группа The Brood создает качественную гаражную музыку, сохраняя свое уважение к звуку и искусству 60-х. Тяжелый драйвовый звук, созданный при помощи подлинных инструментов 60-х: барабаны Rogers, орган Farfisa, усилители Vox, генерирующие фуз и чистую реверберацию, гитары Silvertone в сочетании с рычащим вокалом. Темы их песен вечны: потеря любимых, предательство, отчужденность. Когда The Brood начинают играть, на дворе опять 1965-й : секс, чизбургеры и посещение старших классов школы не считаются угрозой для жизни.
Chris Horne пишет оригинальные мелодии. Такая музыка является исключительно американской.
Эта стилистическая форма принадлежит многим великим, хотя и не самым известным, психоделическим группам 60-х, например, The Seeds, The 13th Floor Elevators и далее в том же духе. Гаражные рокеры пытались донести до слушателей, что музыка, издаваемая основными звукозаписывающими компаниями - это еще далеко не весь рок. Гаражный рок был предшественником того, что позднее стали называть панком. Американское радио и телеканалы по большей части игнорировали гаражников.
В середине восьмидесятых на восточном побережье появились The Brood, а на западном - The Pandoras. Эти две группы часто сравнивают между собой, хотя The Pandoras ударились в мэйнстрим после записи первых двух альбомов, перед тем как распасться. The Brood же сохраняют верность своему изначальному жанру, и - что самое замечательное - все еще вместе.
The Brood даже однажды играли в одном сете с The Pandoras в клубе под названием Geno's в Портлэнде, в субботу, 6 октября 1984-го года. The Brood впервые услышали о The Pandoras от Debbie DeMarco из группы Plan 9 из Род-Айлэнда, которая только что вернулась с турне по западному побережью. Debbie отметила, что The Pandoras только начинали, и The Brood сформировались первыми. The Pandoras собирались играть в Нью-Йорке, и The Brood предложили им присоединиться к своему концерту в Geno's. The Pandoras остановились у Бетси, и там же и готовились к шоу. На концерт они сильно опоздали, и пропустили сэт The Brood. Paula очень огорчилась по этому поводу, и в конце концерта позвала Chris на сцену, чтобы она присоединилась к Pandoras на гитаре в 'Melvin'.
Через несколько месяцев после этого Ron Rimsite, редактор 99th Floor, попал на концерт The Brood в Rat Club в Бостоне. Ron приехал туда, чтобы взять интервью у John Felice из The Real Kids, который открывал этот вечер со своей новой группой The Taxi Boys. Ron также хотел увидеть The Brood с тех пор, как пропустил их ранее по пути в Портлэнд с The Pandoras. Он был просто размазан по стенке их выступлением, и после него спросил, нет ли у них каких-нибудь студийных записей. The Brood как раз закончили свою первую сессию звукозаписи за пару недель до этого, которая состояла из двух песен, "And I Know" & "Writing On The Wall". Ron заинтересовался "And I Know", которая была весьма хорошей вещью, а насчет "Writing On The Wall" уже велись переговоры с Bona Fide Records в PA.
The Brood отправились в турне по Европе в январе 1993-го. Датский промоутер услышал группу на радио и вышел на контакт с ними. Он устроил трёхнедельный тур, состоящий из шоу по Франции, Италии, Голландии, Швейцарии и Бельгии. В Швейцарии люди подпевали их песням, а в Италии группа была просто нарасхват! Люди толкались и пинались, чтобы достать автограф, или чтобы просто прикоснуться к ним. Цитата: "Это было удивительно..."
У The Brood спросили, есть ли у них какой-то особенный способ приготовления к шоу. Они ответили, что однажды они наблюдали за одним человеком по имени Mal Thursday, главным в одной группе из Нортхэмптона, под названием The Malarians. Перед шоу он осуществлял свою "секретную формулу", заключавшуюся в принятии аспирина, запивании Gatorade, и заедании этого всего Сникерсом. Он был настолько наполнен энергией во время шоу, что вскоре The Brood тоже сели на диету из аспирина, Gatorade и Сникерса перед каждым шоу, и это работало! Так продолжалось, пока через пару месяцев они не спросили Mal Thursday, как он додумался до такого эффективного способа. Тот задумался на минуту, после чего сказал, что на самом деле это была никакая не секретная формула энергии, он просто пил аспирин, потому что у него болела голова, ел сникерс, потому что был голоден, и всегда пил Gatorade. Все хорошо посмеялись, и после этого The Brood перестали следовать своей новой диете.
Если кому-то интересно, Crystal Light играет на ударных Rogers, как и The Dave Clark Five. Она использует тринадцати-дюймовый малый барабан пикколо. Также у нее есть установка Trixon, но ее она использует крайне редко, в основном для фотосессий.
Группа The Brood создает качественную гаражную музыку, сохраняя свое уважение к звуку и искусству 60-х. Тяжелый драйвовый звук, созданный при помощи подлинных инструментов 60-х: барабаны Rogers, орган Farfisa, усилители Vox, генерирующие фуз и чистую реверберацию, гитары Silvertone в сочетании с рычащим вокалом. Темы их песен вечны: потеря любимых, предательство, отчужденность. Когда The Brood начинают играть, на дворе опять 1965-й : секс, чизбургеры и посещение старших классов школы не считаются угрозой для жизни.
Chris Horne пишет оригинальные мелодии. Такая музыка является исключительно американской.
Эта стилистическая форма принадлежит многим великим, хотя и не самым известным, психоделическим группам 60-х, например, The Seeds, The 13th Floor Elevators и далее в том же духе. Гаражные рокеры пытались донести до слушателей, что музыка, издаваемая основными звукозаписывающими компаниями - это еще далеко не весь рок. Гаражный рок был предшественником того, что позднее стали называть панком. Американское радио и телеканалы по большей части игнорировали гаражников.
В середине восьмидесятых на восточном побережье появились The Brood, а на западном - The Pandoras. Эти две группы часто сравнивают между собой, хотя The Pandoras ударились в мэйнстрим после записи первых двух альбомов, перед тем как распасться. The Brood же сохраняют верность своему изначальному жанру, и - что самое замечательное - все еще вместе.
The Brood даже однажды играли в одном сете с The Pandoras в клубе под названием Geno's в Портлэнде, в субботу, 6 октября 1984-го года. The Brood впервые услышали о The Pandoras от Debbie DeMarco из группы Plan 9 из Род-Айлэнда, которая только что вернулась с турне по западному побережью. Debbie отметила, что The Pandoras только начинали, и The Brood сформировались первыми. The Pandoras собирались играть в Нью-Йорке, и The Brood предложили им присоединиться к своему концерту в Geno's. The Pandoras остановились у Бетси, и там же и готовились к шоу. На концерт они сильно опоздали, и пропустили сэт The Brood. Paula очень огорчилась по этому поводу, и в конце концерта позвала Chris на сцену, чтобы она присоединилась к Pandoras на гитаре в 'Melvin'.
Через несколько месяцев после этого Ron Rimsite, редактор 99th Floor, попал на концерт The Brood в Rat Club в Бостоне. Ron приехал туда, чтобы взять интервью у John Felice из The Real Kids, который открывал этот вечер со своей новой группой The Taxi Boys. Ron также хотел увидеть The Brood с тех пор, как пропустил их ранее по пути в Портлэнд с The Pandoras. Он был просто размазан по стенке их выступлением, и после него спросил, нет ли у них каких-нибудь студийных записей. The Brood как раз закончили свою первую сессию звукозаписи за пару недель до этого, которая состояла из двух песен, "And I Know" & "Writing On The Wall". Ron заинтересовался "And I Know", которая была весьма хорошей вещью, а насчет "Writing On The Wall" уже велись переговоры с Bona Fide Records в PA.
The Brood отправились в турне по Европе в январе 1993-го. Датский промоутер услышал группу на радио и вышел на контакт с ними. Он устроил трёхнедельный тур, состоящий из шоу по Франции, Италии, Голландии, Швейцарии и Бельгии. В Швейцарии люди подпевали их песням, а в Италии группа была просто нарасхват! Люди толкались и пинались, чтобы достать автограф, или чтобы просто прикоснуться к ним. Цитата: "Это было удивительно..."
У The Brood спросили, есть ли у них какой-то особенный способ приготовления к шоу. Они ответили, что однажды они наблюдали за одним человеком по имени Mal Thursday, главным в одной группе из Нортхэмптона, под названием The Malarians. Перед шоу он осуществлял свою "секретную формулу", заключавшуюся в принятии аспирина, запивании Gatorade, и заедании этого всего Сникерсом. Он был настолько наполнен энергией во время шоу, что вскоре The Brood тоже сели на диету из аспирина, Gatorade и Сникерса перед каждым шоу, и это работало! Так продолжалось, пока через пару месяцев они не спросили Mal Thursday, как он додумался до такого эффективного способа. Тот задумался на минуту, после чего сказал, что на самом деле это была никакая не секретная формула энергии, он просто пил аспирин, потому что у него болела голова, ел сникерс, потому что был голоден, и всегда пил Gatorade. Все хорошо посмеялись, и после этого The Brood перестали следовать своей новой диете.
Если кому-то интересно, Crystal Light играет на ударных Rogers, как и The Dave Clark Five. Она использует тринадцати-дюймовый малый барабан пикколо. Также у нее есть установка Trixon, но ее она использует крайне редко, в основном для фотосессий.
Being the Brood
As hopelessly obscure as ever, Portland's greatest punk band release their fourth collection of raunchy garage rock
By John O'Neill
Once, a long time ago, before MTV and David Geffen ruled the world, there was a brief and fertile point where music -- decent, unpretentious, and mostly enjoyable music -- was bubbling up from the underground at a feverish pace. This was some 20 years ago during the thaw of the '70s, when the few highlights of that otherwise nefarious decade -- power-pop and punk rock -- had melted together with new-wave to create a vibrant brand of music. Music from Nick Lowe, the Pretenders, and Jim Carroll was not only vital, but was getting airtime. Sure, some rough edges had been rounded down for easier consumption, but looking back, there was a lot more variety to be found. Pointedly smart music got played. Deliciously dumb music got played. Heavy metal still got played, too, only now instead of singing about trolls and gnomes, everyone was wearing lipstick and pantyhose, and singing about getting laid. It was all beautiful.
And just when things seemed, if not perfect, then at least a whole lot better than sipping Chianti, smoking weed, and mellowing out to Hotel California, along came the Great Garage Explosion, and things got even better. And from this epic era of creativity came Portland's all-time greatest punk act, the Brood.
The birth of garage rock and the Brood was a natural. There were folks bored by the fashion statement that had become punk, and they started delving back into record compilations like Nuggets and Pebbles to flip their wigs on punk's first true incarnation -- suburban, mid-'60s teenagers with a boatload of attitude and a modicum of talent. There are those who will site a litany of hardcore bands as the keepers of the punk flame through the early '80s, but the real underground was populated by acts with names like the Lyres, Chesterfield Kings, and Fleshtones -- bands who were intent on bringing music back to a time when boys were boys, girls were choice, and three chords was probably one more than you really had to have.
The first few days in Garageland were promising. The Lyres got what little critical respect existed, the Fleshtones were the party guys that were gonna break big, the Cynics were the rawest, the Fuzztones the ugliest, and the Chesterfield Kings were undisputed as the best dressed. But, out of all the initial squadron that were bit by the revivalist bug, it was Portland's own Brood who were the truest to the genre's intent when they made the scene in '83.
First off, they were four young chicks playing a style of music that was distinctly built by and for alienated boys. What could be more alienating then trying to steal the boy's ball? It gave them automatic outsider status. Armed with little more than the stupid passion for a previously obscure art form, and a no-frills delivery that smelled conspicuously of raw amateurism, the Brood actually sounded like a garage band was suppose to sound. After all, this was their first stab at being a band. Nobody had the luxury of playing the jaded ringer from some previous big deal outfit, and none of them had been around the block enough to work on their chops.
They even formed the way a garage band is suppose to form. As Brood guitarist/frontal lobe Chris Horne remembers, "I collected records and [Brood manager and producer] Richard Julio owned a shop called Wax Museum on the Portland waterfront. That's where I met Richard. It was '78. I was diggin' the '60s punk sound. At the time I was learning to play guitar and was like, `Wow, I can do this,' and I bought a Baldwin guitar in Lewiston."
Meanwhile, Horne's pal and Brood bassist Betsy Mitchell was taking lessons from her then boyfriend. Mitchell purchased a matching Baldwin bass to compliment Horne's guitar, and the gals were on their way to basement rehearsals with drummer Crystal Light and organist Asch Gregory completing the line up. ("When we were all, like, 10," quips Horne.) From there the Brood made their way around the New England garage circuit and landed their first full-length slab of vinyl on the well-respected (and Cynics-owned) Get Hip! Records in 1987. By this time, that brief moment when almost anything could happen had already evaporated. All the signs were pointing that way for awhile, but Bobby Brown's ascension up the chart and Guns and Roses being hailed as new geniuses sealed the deal. Even the garage scene that held so much promise had become overrun with impostors and half-assed jangle bands. The Long Riders had gone roots-rock and done a Miller commercial, the Fleshtones adopted and let a band called R.E.M. tour with them in Europe, and the Bangles (once Mersey-rockers the Bangs) became cute, and started hanging out with Prince.
The Brood's debut, In Spite of It All, is probably most important for setting the tone of all subsequent Brood albums -- 1990's Vendetta, 1993's Hitsville, and this year's Beyond the Valley of the Brood -- and can be remembered as one of the era's better documents. Layered under fuzz-drenched guitar riffs and cryptic farfisa organ, the band nailed a distinct slice of musical turf better than anyone the record labels were paying attention to. And Chris Horne was able to write been-done-wrong material better than most of her contemporaries. Sounding like Suzi Quatro in her Pleasure Seeker days, Horne's vocal delivery was a cool detachment. She sang about being left alone, guys who tell lies, hearts turned to stone, and pulled off the whole you-won't-catch-me-crying manifesto in under three minutes a pop. The Brood also remained unmistakably New England in their sound whether through a 1-3 tambourine beat (an indigenous little maneuver, while the rest of the world leaned on the traditional 2-4), or covering tunes by such long-lost (and barely known at the time) New England artists as the Mauve, Young Alley Cats, and the Legends. And, unlike the majority of the class of '83, they never went away. Just when you thought they'd probably cashed in (chiefly due to the time elapsed between albums), they'd show up for beers at the Bugs reunion in Boston, or turn up in Spain for a week's worth of gigs, or wind up opening for "?" and the Mysterians in Manhattan. You could never count the Brood out.
Cut to just last week, and the Brood, still in tact and still hopelessly obscure, are celebrating their fourth long-player, Beyond the Valley of the Brood (Dionysus). A send-up of Russ Meyer's famous girls/drugs/sex flick, Horne and company pose as the band behind the fictitious Swizzle Chicks, four naive babes who also happen to get lost in LA's pill and booze parties. While the concept is tongue-in-cheek homage, the music is all killer, locked-in on fuzz-stomp raunch and eight-bar guitar solos. Horne still hits between the eyes with numbers like "Come On, Come on" and "Don't You Stand In My Way," and the group pays tribute this round out to Dorothy Berry and the Chocolate Watch Band, who's Dave Aguilar was so impressed with their version of "Don't Need Your Lovin'" that he rang Horne up at home.
"It was totally mental," says Horne of the band's finest hour. (For those not in the know, the Watch Band are third only to the Stones and Kinks as garage staples). "I was like, `Oh shit! Either he wants money or it's cease and desist.' But he loved it! He told us he wrote the words in the elevator, and then he traded us one of his albums for ours."
And, with commercial music in a continued downward spiral, the timing is perfect for Portland's greatest and truest punk band to once again try to save us from ourselves. No matter which way the winds of music blow, the Brood's formula and the attitude are still the same: give the people 100 percent Rock Action for an hour, and hop back in the van for the long ride home. Everything else is either out of their hands or business. And the Brood can't be bothered as long as someone is willing to put out the next album and there's a venue that's willing to have them, even if most of the world still doesn't know who they are.
"I'm not bitter about how things work out because it all comes down to it's [still] fun to play in the basement. The audience changes over the years, but there's still a core who seem to appreciate the honesty," says Horne. "When it's not for money it's still all right, because you don't have this `we aren't getting this, or we aren't getting that' type of attitude. In the end, you're still a band . . . you just can't expect a drummer to lug all of their stuff for pocket change. You know how drummers are."
John O'Neill can be reached at johndelrey@yahoo.com.
As hopelessly obscure as ever, Portland's greatest punk band release their fourth collection of raunchy garage rock
By John O'Neill
Once, a long time ago, before MTV and David Geffen ruled the world, there was a brief and fertile point where music -- decent, unpretentious, and mostly enjoyable music -- was bubbling up from the underground at a feverish pace. This was some 20 years ago during the thaw of the '70s, when the few highlights of that otherwise nefarious decade -- power-pop and punk rock -- had melted together with new-wave to create a vibrant brand of music. Music from Nick Lowe, the Pretenders, and Jim Carroll was not only vital, but was getting airtime. Sure, some rough edges had been rounded down for easier consumption, but looking back, there was a lot more variety to be found. Pointedly smart music got played. Deliciously dumb music got played. Heavy metal still got played, too, only now instead of singing about trolls and gnomes, everyone was wearing lipstick and pantyhose, and singing about getting laid. It was all beautiful.
And just when things seemed, if not perfect, then at least a whole lot better than sipping Chianti, smoking weed, and mellowing out to Hotel California, along came the Great Garage Explosion, and things got even better. And from this epic era of creativity came Portland's all-time greatest punk act, the Brood.
The birth of garage rock and the Brood was a natural. There were folks bored by the fashion statement that had become punk, and they started delving back into record compilations like Nuggets and Pebbles to flip their wigs on punk's first true incarnation -- suburban, mid-'60s teenagers with a boatload of attitude and a modicum of talent. There are those who will site a litany of hardcore bands as the keepers of the punk flame through the early '80s, but the real underground was populated by acts with names like the Lyres, Chesterfield Kings, and Fleshtones -- bands who were intent on bringing music back to a time when boys were boys, girls were choice, and three chords was probably one more than you really had to have.
The first few days in Garageland were promising. The Lyres got what little critical respect existed, the Fleshtones were the party guys that were gonna break big, the Cynics were the rawest, the Fuzztones the ugliest, and the Chesterfield Kings were undisputed as the best dressed. But, out of all the initial squadron that were bit by the revivalist bug, it was Portland's own Brood who were the truest to the genre's intent when they made the scene in '83.
First off, they were four young chicks playing a style of music that was distinctly built by and for alienated boys. What could be more alienating then trying to steal the boy's ball? It gave them automatic outsider status. Armed with little more than the stupid passion for a previously obscure art form, and a no-frills delivery that smelled conspicuously of raw amateurism, the Brood actually sounded like a garage band was suppose to sound. After all, this was their first stab at being a band. Nobody had the luxury of playing the jaded ringer from some previous big deal outfit, and none of them had been around the block enough to work on their chops.
They even formed the way a garage band is suppose to form. As Brood guitarist/frontal lobe Chris Horne remembers, "I collected records and [Brood manager and producer] Richard Julio owned a shop called Wax Museum on the Portland waterfront. That's where I met Richard. It was '78. I was diggin' the '60s punk sound. At the time I was learning to play guitar and was like, `Wow, I can do this,' and I bought a Baldwin guitar in Lewiston."
Meanwhile, Horne's pal and Brood bassist Betsy Mitchell was taking lessons from her then boyfriend. Mitchell purchased a matching Baldwin bass to compliment Horne's guitar, and the gals were on their way to basement rehearsals with drummer Crystal Light and organist Asch Gregory completing the line up. ("When we were all, like, 10," quips Horne.) From there the Brood made their way around the New England garage circuit and landed their first full-length slab of vinyl on the well-respected (and Cynics-owned) Get Hip! Records in 1987. By this time, that brief moment when almost anything could happen had already evaporated. All the signs were pointing that way for awhile, but Bobby Brown's ascension up the chart and Guns and Roses being hailed as new geniuses sealed the deal. Even the garage scene that held so much promise had become overrun with impostors and half-assed jangle bands. The Long Riders had gone roots-rock and done a Miller commercial, the Fleshtones adopted and let a band called R.E.M. tour with them in Europe, and the Bangles (once Mersey-rockers the Bangs) became cute, and started hanging out with Prince.
The Brood's debut, In Spite of It All, is probably most important for setting the tone of all subsequent Brood albums -- 1990's Vendetta, 1993's Hitsville, and this year's Beyond the Valley of the Brood -- and can be remembered as one of the era's better documents. Layered under fuzz-drenched guitar riffs and cryptic farfisa organ, the band nailed a distinct slice of musical turf better than anyone the record labels were paying attention to. And Chris Horne was able to write been-done-wrong material better than most of her contemporaries. Sounding like Suzi Quatro in her Pleasure Seeker days, Horne's vocal delivery was a cool detachment. She sang about being left alone, guys who tell lies, hearts turned to stone, and pulled off the whole you-won't-catch-me-crying manifesto in under three minutes a pop. The Brood also remained unmistakably New England in their sound whether through a 1-3 tambourine beat (an indigenous little maneuver, while the rest of the world leaned on the traditional 2-4), or covering tunes by such long-lost (and barely known at the time) New England artists as the Mauve, Young Alley Cats, and the Legends. And, unlike the majority of the class of '83, they never went away. Just when you thought they'd probably cashed in (chiefly due to the time elapsed between albums), they'd show up for beers at the Bugs reunion in Boston, or turn up in Spain for a week's worth of gigs, or wind up opening for "?" and the Mysterians in Manhattan. You could never count the Brood out.
Cut to just last week, and the Brood, still in tact and still hopelessly obscure, are celebrating their fourth long-player, Beyond the Valley of the Brood (Dionysus). A send-up of Russ Meyer's famous girls/drugs/sex flick, Horne and company pose as the band behind the fictitious Swizzle Chicks, four naive babes who also happen to get lost in LA's pill and booze parties. While the concept is tongue-in-cheek homage, the music is all killer, locked-in on fuzz-stomp raunch and eight-bar guitar solos. Horne still hits between the eyes with numbers like "Come On, Come on" and "Don't You Stand In My Way," and the group pays tribute this round out to Dorothy Berry and the Chocolate Watch Band, who's Dave Aguilar was so impressed with their version of "Don't Need Your Lovin'" that he rang Horne up at home.
"It was totally mental," says Horne of the band's finest hour. (For those not in the know, the Watch Band are third only to the Stones and Kinks as garage staples). "I was like, `Oh shit! Either he wants money or it's cease and desist.' But he loved it! He told us he wrote the words in the elevator, and then he traded us one of his albums for ours."
And, with commercial music in a continued downward spiral, the timing is perfect for Portland's greatest and truest punk band to once again try to save us from ourselves. No matter which way the winds of music blow, the Brood's formula and the attitude are still the same: give the people 100 percent Rock Action for an hour, and hop back in the van for the long ride home. Everything else is either out of their hands or business. And the Brood can't be bothered as long as someone is willing to put out the next album and there's a venue that's willing to have them, even if most of the world still doesn't know who they are.
"I'm not bitter about how things work out because it all comes down to it's [still] fun to play in the basement. The audience changes over the years, but there's still a core who seem to appreciate the honesty," says Horne. "When it's not for money it's still all right, because you don't have this `we aren't getting this, or we aren't getting that' type of attitude. In the end, you're still a band . . . you just can't expect a drummer to lug all of their stuff for pocket change. You know how drummers are."
John O'Neill can be reached at johndelrey@yahoo.com.
Chris Horne – вокал и гитара
Crystal Light - ударные
Betsy Mitchell – бас
Asch Gregory – орган
Дискография
1988 - In Spite Of It All
1991 - Vendetta
1995 - Hitsville
2000 - Behind The Valley Of The Brood
Скачать
1995 - Hitsville (CBR 256 kbps)
2000 - Behind The Valley Of The Brood (CBR 320 kbps)
- Опис
- garage rock/punk rock
- Країна
- Сполучені Штати Америки
