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Words by: Dennis Cook | Images by: Dave Vann
The New Up & Vin Rouge :: 08.29.08 :: Bottom of the Hill :: San Francisco, CA
The New Up give modern rock a good name. Watching them sweat and shimmer in the smoke of the Bottom of the Hill stage one felt compelled forward, thrust – no, that's not the right word - coerced into the beckoning arms of what's next, a tomorrow that's scary and hopeful and full of unknown things. This young, highly precocious S.F. band reminds us of bright possibilities even as they ruminate on today's bog water mess, and this national tour kick-off and EP release show did so in a most visceral way.
Outside of a spot of spread leg, cock rock stage antics from hirsute guitarist-singer Noah Reid (who also dropped a Cheap Trick At Budokan reference, though he probably picked it up from the Beastie Boys' Check Your Head), there's nothing backward leaning about The New Up, no genuflecting before the clichés of yesteryear. It didn't take a whole song to pick up on their current bent – a puckish roughness in service of really catchy songs – and it didn't take two songs before one wondered why this band isn't already all over video games, diet soda commercials and Gossip Girl montages. None of which is to say they court the mainstream but there's a slinky coolness to what they do that only requires more ears, more exposure in order to woo way more fans. There's plenty of music I adore that has zero chance of commercial success. What I dig about the Up is how they sacrifice nothing artistically in their popish streamlining. Awash in their glandular surf, I couldn't help but think of early Roxy Music, middle period Sioxsie and even Joy Division – all greats that put art before commerce but still managed to make music with broad appeal.
A mixture of ad hoc stage outfits – Reid's lounge singer, chest exposing dress shirt, lead singer E.S. Pitcher's $8 dollar thrift store dress that she made work like vintage Debbie Harry – and post-modern Motown bodily interpretations, The New Up are a blast to watch, always interesting and full of neat angles. They put on a show in addition to being quite serious musicians, and in terms of pure entertainment they'll give just about anybody a run for their money. The mixture of technical concentration and slightly wild-eyed enjoyment on the faces of Dain Dizazzo (bass), Jack McFadden (drums) and Hawk West (flute, electronics, keys) was nearly as alluring as the more extrovert appeal of Pitcher and Reid, who admittedly are hard to take your eyes off of. Charisma, you just can't manufacture it.
 The New Up :: 08.29 :: San Francisco |
They launched with "Benny Hinn" from their last full length, Palace of Industrial Hope, a blur of grungy guitars and snare snap that sends your head spinning, raw gold like P.J. Harvey before she sat down at the piano. And while they could just ride their new wave chooglin' and leave it at that, "Hinn" is peppered with odd digressions, ideally placed open air pockets that clear the steam away to reveal cool, green grass in your mind, and then back into rock with a decidedly dancey undercurrent. The crucial rhythm team and West's well-placed complications made sure even the most obvious "rock" moments shimmied a bit, generating an off-kilter, lighted dance floor with earthquake uncertainty.
"Hinn" was followed by the entirety of their brand new EP, Broken Machine (see JamBase's review here), played in sequence. From "Ginger Tea," which could be a nightclub hit in the time of Blade Runner (they love this one in the off world colonies...), to the gunfire percussion crack and flute dappled hardness of the title cut to the standing-on-your-own-two-legs anthem "Just Because," the band played with a sense of live possession, overtaken by forces greater than five musicians, shining a light that comes from the invisible world behind all our surfaces. They tacked on three more in their short set, finishing with a tune that sounded like "Foxy Lady" slipped some synthetic muscle relaxer and angried up with strobe flashes and snorting guitar bursts, while Dizazzo and McFadden kicked it John Paul Jones/John Bonham style behind Pitcher's kitten purr and bottleneck slide.
Taken together it was enough to make one downright hungry, and it's only decorum that kept me from taking a friendly nibble. Another smitten fellow had earlier shouted, "I want to have your baby!" to which Pitcher replied, "I'll think it over." With a sneer John Lydon would appreciate and a sound Blondie wishes they could make today, The New Up are a fleshy, fantastic thoroughbred that reminds us to "pump up the jam/ your life's in your hands," and does so without irony or gutless disco intent. For them, shimmy and roar rest in their double bed and grind beautifully.
 Vin Rouge :: 08.29 :: San Francisco |
Headliners Vin Rouge, on the surface, seemed a much different creature - more eye liner, giant riffs and mannish strut. But, as their set progressed they added more and more nuances and stylistic shifts. Initially, one may have thought they'd heard too much Kings of Leon, but it didn't take long for the Free-like rhythm section, Bad Religion on corn liquor guitars and Jane's Addiction vocal bite to convince one to toss away preconceptions. Metal breakdowns, funk rock jags and a general gut-slamming gusto further convinced one that Vin Rouge's barehanded grappling with rock 'n' roll was a wrestling match they were winning with original moves.
One tune felt like an open window ride on an oiled freight train, followed by a crunchy, contemporary sounding number that pushed the pop-punk-metal tendencies of say TSOL and the Stone Temple Pilots into a photo booth, their growls escaping from behind the half-curtain while white light flashed and made us unsteady. Vin Rouge are takers not charmers, and they laid into us like boys with pockets full of foolproof lines and a water bed ready to sway. You'd probably let 'em loosen your buttons after they tenderized you with "a little stoner rock," confused and dripping perspiration after their thick, jagged dazzle, the bubbling ka-thump of fast plucked bass and hammer stick hits having pulverized some portion of your good judgment.
Both bands drew from a huge range of rock past and present, a taster's choice of their own blend, each group a distinct indicator of the front edge of rock's next generation, who've grown up with equal access to Elvis Presley, Bob Marley, Perry Farrell and an innumerable shitload of other influences. Instead of following the fashion of the moment – as has been rock's modus operandi since the 1950s – 21st century bands will likely produce hybrids as unique as the myriad irises that dot gardens around the world, each special and handcrafted but still part of a shared gene pool. Most bands won't be as good as what went down at the Bottom of the Hill but we can cross our fingers these two make a good run at sticking around for while.
The New Up is currently on the road and their national tour will take them to Phoenix, Salt Lake City, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Athens, Milwaukee, Washington D.C. and winding up in Seattle and Portland at the end of September. This carefully curated run of shows will include handpicked local talent at every stop in addition to your chance to see this San Francisco group in action. Check out their tour dates here.
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