American Catastrophe: Reviewed

Chris Packham is a direct descendant of Pliny the Younger (no, not Pliny the Elder — man, fuck that guy). He used to work at the Cup and Saucer before it closed, and during his tenure there, he authored The Cup and Saucer Action News, which was by far my favorite independent and largely unknown local publication. He has a blog of his own, but for his latest foray into rock criticism, he has presented me with a review of a recent concert for exclusive posting on my blog. If you enjoy it as much as I did, please send Chris some money, because I didn’t give him doodley squat.

Mr. Jason Harper,

I attended the Saturday, July 9 performance of American Catastrophe at the Record Bar, as you are well aware, since I saw you there punching in for work. I could tell that you were present in your business capacity of Music Opinion Solution Provider by your suit and briefcase and also the way you arranged your booth with a fax machine and a three-line phone and posters that said: “FAILURE TO PLAN ON YOUR PART DOES NOT CONSTITUTE AN EMERGENCY ON MY PART,” and “IF IT WASN’T FOR THE LAST MINUTE, NOTHING WOULD GET DONE.” I really enjoy that workplace irreverence you bring to the table because it’s good for morale.

I am not a professional like yourself, Jason, but I am an enthusiastic amateur hoping for professional recognition, like Grandma Moses. So I was there on my own time, without benefit of a fancy Pitch expense account or a laptop or a three-hole punch. But I did bring my excellent girlfriend and saw lots of nice people. As a nod to journalistic ethics, I will disclose in advance that I have no idea how to write about drummers or drumming, and the paragraph about the drum solo is therefore completely made-up.

I heard that American Catastrophe was only “opening” for some other band called the Belles. I have a Deep Throat anonymous source who tells me that the Belles once had a song played during an episode of a teen drama-type show like Party of Five or Dora the Explorer or some damn thing. I didn’t stay long enough to hear the Belles, but my source says they are a fine group with a boundless and sunny future ahead of them. Maybe on the O.C. soundtrack, I don’t know. I am not at liberty to disclose the identity of my source, code name “Shmason Shmarper.” Keep it on the down-low.

American Catastrophe has a really moody, textured sound that still accomplishes the traditional Navajo art of rocking. If I wanted to listen to an edgy, atmospheric band that simultaneously reminded me of the spooky era we live in, American Catastrophe would be the perfect band name for that band. The Three Tenors and Emmet Otter’s Jug Band may be fine musical combos, but they don’t evoke the same Patriot Act vibe as American Catastrophe. I’m not suggesting that the founding members got together and said “Let’s give this band a name that reminds people of improvised explosive devices and neoconservatism.” I’m just saying that their particular sound goes over better in the Bush era than it would have when Dwight Eisenhower was the president.

Singer and guitarist Shaun Hamontree is the Dynamic Frontman. He’s so dynamic that he can convey that dynamism while seated in a chair. Normally, I hate it when bands sit down. This was a particular irritant in the �90s, when MTV Unplugged liberated cheesy metal rockers to “take it down a notch” by reinterpreting their stupid power ballads with acoustic instruments. In the inevitably black-and-white videos, they always sat on a stool, and the drummer, bereft of anything to do, would also sit on a stool and bob his head in rhythm to the music. There’s a school of thought in American music that equates sitting on a god damn stool playing acoustic guitar with soulfulness and artistry. It probably originated with open-mic nights. Anyway, my point here is that the sheer force of charisma and dynamism generated by American Catastrophe is totally undiminished by sitting or reclining or otherwise making themselves comfy.

Like you, Jason, Shaun wears a suit to his job as Dynamic Frontman. When a rock band’s DF shows up wearing a suit, he’s communicating his professionalism and respect for the crowd, as far as I’m concerned. Plus, Shaun has a kind of Johnny Cash-country-preacher charisma, until midset when he takes off the dress shirt, tie and jacket. From a business standpoint, shedding your business suit in the middle of a presentation is risky, but Dynamic Frontmen have a little more wiggle room vis-a-vis the corporate dress code policy than your Intellectual Property Lawyers and Music Opinion Solution Providers.

Also seated onstage: guitarist Terrence Moore. This makes sense, because have you ever been in a situation where you realized that you were the only person seated in a room full of people standing up? And you had the sense that everyone else was hovering over you? I don’t know about you, but that situation always makes me nervous. That’s how I imagine drummers feel. So Terrence sitting and playing his guitar along with Shaun conferred an air of equality and mutual respect and camaraderie not dissimilar to the scene where John McClane finally comes face-to-face with Sgt. Al Powell at the end of Die Hard.

Bassist Amy Farrand, on the other hand, DID NOT SIT DOWN. I have a theory about that, which I’ll share with you right now: It’s because she’s so completely badass. Listen, being the Dynamic Frontman does not make you the boss of Amy Farrand. Do you think Amy Farrand cares that you’re sitting down while you play guitar? Do you think she cares if she’s making you nervous by hovering over you for the whole set? Oh, you don’t think that? Then we’re on the same page.

I am compelled by the demands of journalisticalesque propriety to acknowledge that I think Amy is cool from prior experience. Also, she’s really funny and a good tipper, and she’s the best guitar player in Kansas City. There. Now you can reinterpret my review through the lens of that bias.

I don’t think there was any more crowd-pleasing moment on Saturday evening than drummer Eric Bessenbacher’s eight-minute midset drum solo. All I could see from my table was a cartoony blur of arms and drumsticks. “Dude! It’s like the reincarnation of Neil Peart,” I said.

“I don’t think think Neil Peart was ever de-incarnated,” my girlfriend said.

“Really?” I said. “Well, I hate that Objectivist son of a bitch. I thought he died years ago. Now you tell me he’s still alive and well and probably hanging around with Ayn Rand and thinking about how to purge the homeless and the retardeds from society.”

“Ayn Rand is dead, honey.”

“Really? What about Abe Vigoda?”

“Alive.”

“Wilford Brimley?“

“Diabetic. He talks about it on TV.” My girlfriend knows everything.

Again: I don’t know anything about drumming, and I’m unqualified to report on Eric Bessenbacher’s work, but I have it on good authority that he’s a fine drummer. Now, I don’t want my review to trail off here, but I’m not sure how to end it, so I’ll make resort to the fine 1980s literary tradition of the Choose Your Own Adventure by offering up three possible endings.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING:

(A) Eighth-Grade Book Report Ending:

In conclusion, I would have to say that the rock band American Catastrophe is a very good rock band with an important message: Do not do drugs or hang around with people who do drugs because they are bad for your mind and body. Stay in school. Reading is fundamental. The end.

(B) Conclusion of a Eulogy:

As I look down at the blessed carcass of Ayn Rand, I think I speak for all of us when I say I will remember her for her lack of humor, for her cunning repackaging of Social Darwinism and for lending elbow-patch philosophic street-cred to a policy of acting like a dick. That’s what Objectivism — and my good friend Ayn — are all about.

(C) HOW DID ENCYCLOPEDIA BROWN KNOW? ending:

Answer: Encyclopedia Brown knows that Wilford Brimley’s pancreas doesn’t work. So if Wilford Brimley had eaten the entire can of vanilla frosting, as Bugs Meany claimed, he’d have been hospitalized for a diabetic coma!

Jason, I certainly hope you can use this on the Wayward Son blog and that we can get together again soon for another important, business-related rock-and-roll activity.

Your professional acquaintance,

Chris Packham