By: Graham Johnson
So, there was another show at the Shit Mansion. My condolences sincerely go out to any of you who happened to miss it. It was a fuzzy flashback to a sound and emotion that were heard last 20 years prior. Soaked in the discordant and emotionally charged tracks of ‘Sad Jeremy & Baby Fish Mouth’ and the math-y underground alternative garage-rock spit out by ‘Theo and the Burrows,’ the living room had become a quantum singularity that had pulled the crowd deep into the 90s.
ZAWA was the first act on the scene. Combining their electronic and ambient music with spacey and shred-y guitar licks. The sound waves coming from the speakers during their set pulsed as the bass got louder and the guitar rose above its backing track. All three of the musicians were so focused on their instruments. As it seemed every single note and pad was meticulously planned out and each had its own place to be in the over arching music that immediately captured the crowd and everyone else in the area.
ZAWA fully immersed in their performance at Shit Mansion.
Following ‘ZAWA’ was a sickly grunge three-piece that goes by the name of ‘Sad Jeremy & Baby Fish Mouth.‘ With every track they went deeper and darker, ripping apart your mental armor and tearing away at your heart and soul. At one point, Jeremy lit a cigarette and set it between his strings. He let it burn down as they played and it filled the space with an aromatic nostalgia that only further drew us into the singularity. Shortly thereafter, the band drew to a close and shambled out of the room to make way for one man.
Sad Jeremy & Baby Fish Mouth sharing some of their pain, aggression and sorrow with everyone.
That man is ‘Distant Stations.’ He was an interesting treat as, the entire time he played, I felt as if I was sitting in on a live MTV Unplugged performance. With nothing but an acoustic guitar and a wounded voice, ‘Distant Stations’ was an intimate evening with a passionate artist. One who sees all flaws and accepts them as traits. The soothing tones would not last, however, and were replaced by shockingly contrasted electric power.
Distant Stations played to a captured audience at Shit Mansion.
‘Theo and the Burrows,’ a.k.a. ‘Theo Burrows,’ a.k.a. ‘Theo Burrows and Co.,’ a.k.a. ‘Who the Fuck Really Knows at This Point: The Band.’ They go by many names, but their music is limited by only a single factor: How hard they decide to go on any given night. Theo and the boys blew down the house with ripping solos, intricate bass lines, and an insatiable urge to melt your brain. Theo’s raw and messy chordage was punctuated by the bassist’s deliciously math-like lines, while percussion opened up room for leads to be peppered in at regular intervals. Towards the end of the set, the crowd was brought back to reality and played out by a beautifully harmonic single note progression by Theo and Alex.
Theo Burrows making the house literally shake.
Once again, I am thoroughly impressed by the caliber of musician at this house venue so lovingly entitled ‘Shit Mansion.’ The atmosphere these bands created was wonderfully nostalgic and brought me back to a time when radio was Alice in Chains, Radiohead, and Bush; a time when you could smoke indoors and no one gave a shit about the smell; a turbulent time where angst ruled the music scene. These bands have captured something that hasn’t been heard in 20 years. Check ’em out and get fucking sad.
Links & Credits
Photos by:Ian Maikisch