Live Review: Tyler Childers / AC30 / Prison Book Club at V Club June 11, 2011

By Dave Mistich

For some unexplained reason, there has always seemed to be a lack of alt-country in the area. It's one of those styles that hasn't ever been exclusive to any one region of the country, with bands like Uncle Tupelo (Illinois), Old 97's (Texas), Ryan Adams and Whiskeytown (North Carolina), and Drive-By Truckers (Athens, Georgia via the legendary Muscle Shoals, Alabama) all springing up with little regard for their respective geography. It's just proof in point that Americana holds no reservations about where we are from: sounds and stories like these are common ground in every corner of our country.

Sure, location becomes an influence on the inflection each band has focused on. The Truckers' socio-political storytelling of the "dirty south" and the 97's twangs about Texas put an indelible stamp on each of their respective catalogues. Regardless, alt-country--like any sub-genre of popular music--has yet to be confined by it's origin and eventual audience.

But looking around West Virginia and the surrounding states, alt-country has somehow missed our scene--mostly on a local level. It's confusing, considering the lifestyle and down home ethic we find ourselves involved in from day-to-day. Saturday night at the V Club somewhat calmed all those frustrations with a line-up that was chock full of it.

Paintsville, Kentucky's Tyler Childers started off the evening with his one-man with whiskey and serious heartache style. For being (and certainly looking) so young, Childers' talent is mature--far more so than his innocent, blue-collar farm boy image might suggest.

It's difficult to speak of Childers' in the pantheon of alt-country greats quite yet, but his vocals evoke Ryan Adams and Ray LaMontagne equally. With songs about whiskey and women written by a man in his early 20s, it may seem a bit premature to hand him a trophy, but the kid sure deserves a gold plaque.

AC30 isn't quite ever going to hit alt-country the way they could or should. But that detail is minor. The gentlemen in this band are spectacularly efficient players who know their boundaries.

The band's cover of "September Gurls" by Big Star is likely the closest they'll ever come to alt-country (at least for now)--even though power-pop touches lightly on the genre's tendencies. Regardless, though, the band found ways to fit right in with the rest of the evening's lineup.

And there's a certain level of respect and honor that needs credited with the group's style of playing. Few bands--especially led by prolific players like Carroll and the rest of his semi-supergroup in Huntington care about the songs more than their own individual shining moments.

Sure, because of Carroll's status, he's the de-facto frontman (and this fact is obvious, and maybe a bit uncomfortable for those surrounding him at moments). Yet the man shares the craftsmanship of not only songwriting, but more importantly, playing with his fellow members.

But enough about that and back to the topic at hand--alt country.

Prison Book Club is widely regarded as a collective of some of West Virginia's finest. With members from The Demon Beat and The Fox Hunt, the band gets an almost instant promotion to supergroup status. While this label is somewhat warranted, neither of the two groups have attained the status past a regional scale.

However, what is undeniable about the group is the fact that they're the best alt-country outfit this area has seen. Sure, there's a lack of competition for them but it would take quite awhile for anyone to match them.

Led by the lead licks of Adam Meisterhans, the group sound comes across as a distinct point somewhere between Lucero and the Mike Cooley-penned tunes of Drive-By Truckers. His paying is exact and technical, almost sounding as if he's playing slide at moments. It's somewhat remarkable that Meisterhans, who has made a name for himself with a Pete Townshend-like persona in The Demon Beat, could match the quality of his playing in other genres--yet it's almost more impressive. He strips it down to simple strumming with Prison Book Club when needed and balances those moments with tasteful and thoughtful leads.

Singer-guitarist John R. Miller and bassist (and occasional vocalist) Tucker Riggleman are equally impressive. They may be slightly less flashy than Meisterhans, yet their ability to lock in with the fast paced drumming of Andrew Ford (Where the hell did this guy come from, by the way?) is note-worthy.

Miller seems fit for this style of music, there is little doubt. Both lyrically and vocally, he comes across as well-versed in the genre and life-experienced to back it up on a practical level. There's a level of authenticity that matches his talent--and it's one of those things that cannot be learned or practiced, but rather accepted and made use of.

With nights like these, one can only hope that new bands in the area will make note--should the alt-country scene really take off.

Live Review: Sly Roosevelt / Universes / Buffalo Killers at V Club May 6, 2011

Sly Roosevelt performs at the V Club Friday, May 6


By Dave Mistich

It's almost surprising how many shows there are in Huntington these days. Seemingly every night of the week offers something, be it a national tirelessly working the mid-sized venue circuit, or a local group cutting their teeth in the strange comfort of their own scene. Being the kickoff to the weekend, Friday at the V Club provided a bit of both, offering up a double serving of local talent warming up the crowd for Alive Records' Buffalo Killers.

Local complex indie rockers Sly Roosevelt kicked the night off with their strange yet inspired brew. Pinning down the band's sound proves to be an arduous task, even for the most seasoned audiophile, yet there are a string of elements that are simply undeniable.

There's a slight element of punk, led by a steady power chord-driven rhythm. There's also elements of jazz and funk in bass player Alex Durand's hypnotic lines. (If there's anything pressing about Sly Roosevelt's set that deserves constructive attention, it's the incredible need for Durand to be bumped up in the mix.) What's most noticeable is the fervor in Sean McDaniel's voice, which would certainly get a nod from Modest Mouse's Ian Brock.

Due to the fresh chaotic nature of their compositions, it's difficult for the band's tunes to seem familiar to a crowd yet (even despite being around since 2008), but with time and enough gigs, there's no doubt they'll become drilled into the heads of locals eventually.

And so Sly Roosevelt will remain an acquired taste for those adventurous enough to stumble upon them--a band not for passive listeners. But such a distinction might ultimately prove to end up working in the group's favor. Serious listeners crave being engaged and there's no one in town whose songwriting has that in their pocket quite like they do on the local scene.



After the sonic smorgasbord of Sly roosevelt, it was time for the hipster-approved rock of the local trio Universes. Led by the etherial craftwork of guitarist Justin Gardner, the band's keen pop sensibilities shine through song after song. On this night the group weaved together a set with material from their Yeah! We Did It! release along with new material yet to find it's way into the eternal security of a recording.



The songs from Yeah! We Did It! come across differently in a live setting; there's certainly no problem with recognition for those who know the songs, but they're working with very little on stage.

Sure, the group might benefit from the addition of a keyboardist to add texture in certain passing moments, but the songs and their arrangements take on a welcomed new life. There's no slick studio production to hide behind (or season), yet the band makes do nearly perfectly. In the spaces where they're needed most, bassist Josh Harshbarger and drummer Jason Reese fill things out effectively and give songs like "Life" and "Vanilla Sky" the kinetics necessary for them to soar in their raw potential sans additional instrumentation.

And it's not just the band's material that deserves noting, the fellas in Universes work the stage as if they're jockeying for the weekly crown on some variety show of yesteryear. Sure, it might have been that the crowd seemed familiar to the band, yet Gardner shouldn't ever let the comedic element of the show slip out of their routine. (Harshbarger and Reese follow suit in this area perfectly, egging their frontman on with a bouncy circus-themed bass and drum stomp.) By introducing songs with crude fake titles, Gardner and company provide a conscious relief from the depth of repeated "woe-is-me" reflections in their unrequited love-stricken anthems.

(Editor's note: Gardner's guitar was stolen from his car outside the venue following the set. Anyone with any information on the theft has been asked to contact him directly. Gardner and Universes--and the entire Huntington scene--would greatly appreciate the help.

Update 5.9.11: Gardner's guitar was recovered and all is well with Universes again.)

If the $10 cover was too steep for only a couple locals, Cincinnati's Buffalo Killers made the night worth the price of admission.



With their newest record, 2008's Let It Ride, having been produced by The Black Keys' Dan Auerbauch, the band digs deep into a gritty blues shuffle with a southern tinge. It's a sound that resembles some alternative version Neil Young's Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, arranged for a stoner-friendly three piece.

Guitarist Andrew Gabbard's tone mixed in faintly, but remains present--something deserving an attentive ear but not to the point of strain. Gabbard's brother and bassist for the group, Zachary Gabbard, brought a locked in groove driven furiously by the skyward-gazing Joseph Sebaali behind the kit.

Yet, strangely enough, a slow romantic swagger bled through the band's sound on Friday night. It wasn't obvious and maybe not even exactly necessary, but that aspect added a dimension sometimes lost in the raucous of gnarling fuzz rock. Even though the Gabbard's vocals stretch and bend around the tunes with a straining dissonance, there's a strange, visceral comfort left in their wake.

photos & video: Chris Harper

Live Review: This A'int No Disco with AC30 at V Club May 5, 2011

photo:Chris Harper

By Dave Mistich

When a band is named after a iconic Vox guitar amplifier a prospective listener should have some idea of what they’re in for. It’s a rig whose tubes and speakers shaped rock history with a little help from a few guys like Keith Richards, Pete Townshend, Peter Buck, and Brian May. Think crisp and clean, but able to conjure serious bite and raw power—an apt moniker (and metaphor) for the Huntington-based power-pop quintet, AC30.

Firing away by opening with one of the singles that’s been getting the band some local buzz, “I’m Free,” Ryan Weaver’s vocals matched the timbre of the band surrounding him—a sound somewhere between soothing and refined rowdiness; something even the most conservative, anti-rock grandmother might not only tolerate but thoroughly enjoy.

But it wasn’t just Weaver featured on vocals. The other front three members stepped up and handled leads, sometimes switching between verses and choruses. Bassist Ian Thornton, guitarist Doug Woodard, and the slick-fingered local hero Bud Carroll were all capable vocally. But it was drummer Alex McCoy, whose surprisingly high range on backing vocals, that deserved MVP on the mic.

Even though it was impossible for the crowd to be familiar with the songs (this was only the band’s third show), the response indicated that they will be welcomed time and again. There was a lot of dancing from the crowd; the kind that signals that rock and roll does fantastic things for people. There were also immediate howls and applause from the audience once the band finished a song.

There was only one flub the entire night, and it wasn’t even while the band was playing. Coming out of stellar version of Big Star’s “September Gurls,” Woodard had difficulties tuning, essentially killing the momentum built up by the set until then.

Carroll apologized to the crowd, stating that it was necessary to get things perfect, and confidently proclaimed their next song was “the best one we’ve got.” And he wasn’t lying. “She’s The One” epitomized the groups layered sound. Bluesy lead licks, vocal harmonies, and a driving rhythm—morphing into a collective of pop sweetness.

After finishing their set, the V Club’s crowd quickly demanded an encore and rightfully so. With a bit of conversation amongst the band, The Temptations' “I Can’t Get Next To You” was settled upon as a finale and the already dance-ready crowd got moving at a pace unmatched by prior tunes.

The choice of covers, an instrument switch (between Thornton and Woodard late in the set), and even the sonic shifts within their own material prove the group to be extremely versatile, a band capable of executing the most difficult pop arrangements with grace.

While Carroll and company’s playing is impeccable, what really grabs hold is how near perfect their own songs are. There’s an eerie feeling evoked by AC30’s material, making one wonder whether Lennon-McCartney were arranging songs by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers (or vice versa) but spiced with a fierce attention to the vocal harmonies, which in places might be suited for The Staple Singers or some legendary Motown session group. Throw in the fact that each member contributes to songwriting, and it's frivolous in trying to find a weak link anywhere within the group.

AC30 is a weird trip through pop music history, one with slight twists and turns but always staying inside the lines on a carefully built, meaningful road. These history lessons handed down from bands and musicians are increasingly necessary in a world where digital singles with short life spans somehow trump the power of classic records, let alone discographies that have formed the map that is the canon of lasting pop music. The gentlemen in AC30 would probably tell you that themselves.

And, so, one can only guess the mission of this band. However, it’d be hard not to believe it’s giving a nod to those who’ve held onto some strict ethic and obsessed with the smoothness and universal emotion that pop can bring.


video: Chris Harper