31 Knots/easy action/Tracy Grammer

[June 1st, 2005]

^31 Knots Thursday, June 2

Joe Haege's dark craft is getting lighter.

[DARK POP] "As I've gotten older, I've realized that a lot of people are in touch with the ugly side of life," says Joe Haege, "but there are a lot of people who aren't." Haege, singer and songwriter for local dark-popsters 31 Knots, is discussing the grand pop tradition of wrapping dark matter in beautiful song. It's a practice he's considering undertaking with a couple of songs he's currently recording for his band's upcoming full-length for Polyvinyl Records. For now, though, Haege, along with drummer Jay Pellicci and bassist Jay Winebrenner, is still appealing to those who prefer the ugly mug of the world unmasked.

The band has just released The Curse of the Longest Day, a jarring four-song EP that pairs the contemplative, patchwork quality of math rock with the high guitar-drama and impassioned vocals of prog metal bands like Tool. Dark, jagged and, at times, just plain weird, the four songs here are some of the best the band has produced since Haege, 29, moved to Portland in 1998. That's largely thanks to moments where Haege's pop capabilities rear their not-so-ugly heads, as on "The Corpse and the Carcass," in which Haege and his band take on the ambiguities of semantics like Coldplay might, if it had a darker past and bigger balls. Lyrically, Haege has a crib sheet of subject matter that sticks to themes of lust and a slight fascination with carcasses, his breathy vocals bursting in disgust as he sings lines like "Sabotage serenade/ Complacency capitulates/ Underneath the open sky tonight" on "Welcome to Stop." That's music to any dark-sider's ears. And soon it might reach the other side.

"Now the band has started to write songs that are listenable," Haege says. "Two songs on the next record are even in major chords; I've never written major-chord songs before." (Mark Baumgarten.) 31 Knots plays with Invisible; Point Juncture, WA, and the Floating City at Berbati's Pan. 9:30 pm. $6. 21+.

^easy action thursday, june 2

If you like singers swinging beer bottles at your head, this one's for you.

[PUNK] Few performers bring a truly visceral-and occasionally frightening-intensity to the stage like Easy Action vocalist John Brannon, without any gimmicks, costumes or cheap theatrics. To this date I vividly remember seeing Brannon's previous band the Laughing Hyenas in 1991, standing on guard, ready to defend myself against the howling, drunken singer poised at the front of the stage swinging a bottle in one hand, a mic stand in the other and hunching over the microphone like it was prey, screaming the blues with every ounce of life he had in him.

It's been a long, trying haul for Brannon since his behemoth guttural wail first came to public attention with Detroit hardcore punk pioneers Negative Approach in 1981. The singer's notoriety for dabbling with hard drugs and hard living eventually reached legendary status during the '90s reign of the immensely powerful blues-punk of Touch & Go Records artists the Laughing Hyenas. After drug abuse and strained relations tore that band apart in 1997, Brannon cleaned up and assembled Easy Action, initially as a trio, playing guitar and singing in its earliest incarnation. Adding a second guitarist, Easy Action released its debut album in 2001 and ventured on a few short tours. Surprisingly, the new band was fiercer and faster than anything Brannon had done before-with the storied days of drugs and jail time behind him, you'd expect the new band to be a mellower beast. Not so.

The band's latest Reptilian Records album, Friends of Rock 'n' Roll, boasts a new, improved rhythm section and its strongest songs yet, merging the fury of Negative Approach with the scorched-earth rock of Laughing Hyenas. At the very forefront, of course, is Brannon's signature growl that sounds like a full barre chord behind every rasping note. DAVE CLIFFORD. Easy Action plays with the Hunches, Fireballs of Freedom and Typhoon Killer at Dante's. 10 pm. $5. 21+.

^Tracy Grammer saturday, june 4

Portland folkie comes out of her shell and shares the music of her late partner.

[FOLK] Tracy Grammer's Flower of Avalon represents a resounding triumph over tragedy for the Portland musician, exceeding all expectations of what she might accomplish in the absence of her celebrated musical and life partner, Dave Carter.

Portland was shocked in July 2002 to learn of Carter's sudden death by heart attack [see "In Memoriam: Dave Carter," WW, July 31, 2002]. But in the months following, from atop the mountain of her grief, Grammer spied broader horizons for her and Carter's music. While the simplicity of their records together was part of their charm (their debut, When I Go, was even recorded in Grammer's kitchen), Carter sometimes suffered from a misplaced modesty, limiting the duo's appeal to folkies only. Not that Grammer is any sort of egomaniac; she, too, is a profoundly private person. But with Carter's passing, it's as though she's been freed of any such timidity. Maybe she feels the praise she now receives can be transferred to his legacy of songs. JEFF ROSENBERG

Tracy Grammer plays with Jim Brunberg at the Aladdin Theater. 8 pm. $18 advance, $20 day of show. All ages.