Some people think so. They say the 817 scene now isn’t what it was as few as a couple of years ago, when Flickerstick, Black Tie Dynasty, Tame … Tame and Quiet, Calhoun, and Darth Vato were all still together – and huge – and when an annual Fort Worth festival called Wall of Sound was attracting marquee indie-rock talent from as far away as Seattle and Brooklyn. The glass-half-empty folks have a point, for sure, at least regarding indie-rock.
But consider a couple-a things:
1.) Indie-rock isn’t the be-all, end-all of local music. There are other genres, too, especially Texas Music and a style I’m going to call “New Timey,” a play on “new” and “old-timey.” (Artists that fit the description are The Theater Fire, Whiskey Folk Ramblers, and Keegan McInroe.) Just look at all of the nominees in our Texas Music and Acoustic/Folk categories – there’s a ton. And a few of them are getting some airplay on commercial radio. All are gigging regularly.
2.) While Flickerstick, Calhoun, and the other aforementioned break-up artists may be gone, there are a lot of good indie-rock groups still together and new ones coming up, including The Burning Hotels (who’ll be featured in an upcoming major motion picture, Bandslam), the cut*off (who recently toured with the nigh-legendary Old 97’s), Telegraph Canyon (whose forthcoming album is being produced by Centro-matic’s Will Johnson), plus The Orbans, Stella Rose, Dove Hunter, Jefferson Colby, and a few more. To imply that the death of just a handful of bands bodes ominously for an entire city’s worth of music is way too pessimistic. And if there’s one thing we all could use a little more of these days, it’s optimism.
– Anthony Mariani
New Artist
Brainy rockers Automorrow cover the bases from rap-rock (the song “Pulse” sounds for all the world like Cake minus the damn trumpet) to metal to Radiohead-like shoe-gazing, with the same kind of ironic sensibility as Devoesque sci-fi geeks and ’09 Heavy Metal nominee Urizen. The Dangits look like your garden-variety alt-rockers, but the band’s high-energy rockaroll sounds like the work of musos who have at least dipped a pinky toe in the stream that flows from Detroit to Stockholm by way of Sydney. DISCO: HATE‘s spiky, Wire-y sound has just enough quirky strangeness and charm (not to mention keen pop flourishes clothed in clever arrangements and occasional dissonance) to make the vehicle for singer-songwriter Casey Colby an underground must-see. Secret Ghost Champion plays a lysergically lifted brand of oddball Americana that blends delicate, rustic instrumental filigrees with claustrophobically close-mic’ed Beach Boys harmonies and backgrounds of swirling ambience, inviting comparisons with local lights as disparate as The Theater Fire and Stumptone. Pop-punkers The Vatican Press have all of the elements – buzzsaw guitars, four-on-the-floor drums, adenoidal vocals, heart-on-their-sleeves lyrics about girls ‘n’ stuff, and no political guff – to make you want to party like it’s 1994. – Ken Shimamoto
Live Band
End of the World Parade features some Spoonfed Tribe dudes getting extra action by taking their old drumming-in-the-street shtick to a new level – after all, what’s more tribal than a marching band? Pablo and the Hemphill 7 come from a school where it’s mandatory to keep the folks dancing for four hours at a go, and while they’ve missed the recording boat throughout their eight-year existence, their vibe is as much about their party-ful originals as it is about their encyclopedic take on reggae. Southside kings the Panther City Bandits helped put the Chat Room Pub on the map as a music venue, and their potent mix of Dropkick Murphys-style Celtic punk and epic Springsteenian rock balladry is a powerful stimulant. The sad demise of Sally Majestic‘s collaboration with Daniel Katsük has brought about the return to the boards of one of the Fort’s perpetual faves: the loose-limbed trio of Les Claypool-esque frontman “Funky” Scott Vernon, affable bass boyo P.J. Fry, and drummer’s drummer Tim Cowdin. It’s been a few years since the Spoonfed Tribe almost set fire to the stage at the Ridglea Theater, but the pop-funk outfit remains the percussion-fueled groove machine that lifts big audiences into semi-orgiastic states of ecstasy, so what’s not to like? – K.S.
MVP
A decade ago, singer-songwriter Tommy Alverson walked out on his 30-year day gig at Miller Brewing, and since then he’s never looked back, providing living proof that you can make a lifetime vocation of music. Though The Fairmount ended up closing, Alverson did all he could to help keep the Southside venue afloat: playing shows and donating his take to the club and getting other local Texas Music and honkytonk musos to follow his lead. Engineer Bart Rose‘s “little studio that could,” Fort Worth Sound (formerly First Street Audio), has grown up into a state-of-the-art facility, handling clients such as The Toadies, Green River Ordinance, Goodwin, Stephen Pointer, and R&B guitar legend Cornell Dupree. Good technicians like Will Hunt do their work and go, so it should be no surprise that having performed yeoman service on projects by The Polyphonic Spree, Green River Ordinance, and The Burning Hotels, producer Hunt is packing up his ProTools and heading for the Big Apple. – K.S.
Venue
While some long-in-the-tooth folks have never forgiven Danny Weaver’s Aardvark for supplanting the late, lamented HOP, others have watched its evolution into a more open and inviting space for alt-rock locals and ever-bigger-and-better road acts with more than passing interest. Gracey Tune and Eddie Dunlap’s Arts Fifth Avenue presents admirable educational activities and also provides a space for listeners of more refined sensibilities to dig stuff like the annual Django Reinhardt festival and periodic Thelonious Monk tributes in a family-friendly, smoke-free environment. Though no more shows will be happening at The Chat Room Pub, the Southside hangout deserves props for having showcased some of the most progressive music over the past few years. Now that Brian Forella’s busy making money in the Stockyards, Lola’s Saloon-Sixth has become the playground for local bands that the Wreck Room once was, with ace appointments courtesy of master stage manager Andre Edmonson. Forella’s Longhorn Saloon, meanwhile, has played host to marquee artists like Hank Williams III and Junior Brown, occupying a spot at the intersection of Redneck Alley and Rawk Avenue. Since the stage was moved at The Moon, Chris Maunder’s West Berry Street haunt (where the ghosts of the Dog Star still linger) seems more like a rock room while remaining intimate enough to feel like the hippest house party in town. Hardy perennial fave the Ridglea Theater, periodic rumors of its demise notwithstanding, remains many a gig-pig’s room of choice, bringing a steady stream of mainly metal shows to sleepy Camp Bowie Boulevard. Finally, the Scat Jazz Lounge combines an unbeatable Sundance Square location with a glittering array of talent in the multitude of styles currently going by the moniker “jazz”: swingin’ saxman Johnny Reno, Hammond organ eminence Red Young, and Sinatraesque crooner and co-owner Ricki Derek being just three among the many who’ve graced the Scat’s stage. – K.S.
C&W
A killer live act, 100 Damned Guns purvey a rocked-up string-band sound with lyrics about misery, agony, and death – you know, the usual stuff. Tommy Alverson, capo di tutti capi of Cowtown’s Stetson-wearing set, proudly carries the torch for Texas country while penning wryly humorous ditties about beer, life’s vicissitudes that bring us to it, and the circumstances that result from its consumption. The dudes in Cadillac Sky play a sophisticated brand of gypsy jazz-inflected bluegrass. Veteran Jim Colegrove’s been active in music since the young Elvis era, and his band, Lost Country, has an abundance of songwriting talent and evocative lead voices, navigating all of the streams of post-Carter Family American music. Sultry-voiced accordionist Ginny Mac has Western Swing in her bones and could make singing the phone book sound sexy, while her UNT jazzbo brother accompanist hits all the right Django-esque notes on guitar. Speaking of fiddles, the Quebe Sisters (pronounced KWAY-bee) have three of ’em, played by three real siblings who also harmonize like the Andrews Sisters and activate all the Western Swing/hot jazz/shuffle-country pleasure centers, with stalwart jazzman Drew Phelps on bass. My Wooden Leg is the vehicle for former Catfish Whiskey guy Michael Maftean, whose folk-informed honkytonk is bright and purposeful. – K.S.
Rock
Times are good for The Burning Hotels. Their new album is ready to drop, they’ll be featured in a major upcoming movie, Bandslam, and they’ve recently been spreading their sleek, catchy melodies, thunderous and frenetic rhythms, and hook-driven vocals all over the map. The Campaign‘s sparkling piano-driven pop has been charging through town for about three years now, and on the quartet’s recently released eponymous EP, frontman Tyler Wood and company take a sledgehammer to traditional cookie-cutter pop while retaining strong pop sensibilities. the cut*off elegantly walks the line between twangy and Toadies-esque – the band’s songs go from deeply reflective and borderline self-loathing to quirky and fun, though they always remain familiar. The versatile and catchy Fate Lions draw from the entirety of the pop-rock spectrum on their 2009 release, Good Enough For You, and clearly aren’t afraid to be called a pop band or embrace Beach Boys-y harmonies and melodies. Goodwin is the ultimate musician’s rock band, composed of accomplished musos with a collective skill set that would make most symphony orchestras jealous. It’s easy to take a band like Titanmoon for granted. The quartet seamlessly drapes piano riffs and understated but hauntingly beautiful guitar lines over catchy, intense vocal harmonies. There’s not a wasted word or note in the band’s dramatic, sleek repertoire. – Eric Griffey
Vocalist (Female)
Crystal Casey‘s songs range from deeply emotive to outright playful but are always heartfelt. She harkens to Tori Amos as well as P.J. Harvey. Arlington singer-songwriter Jessie Frye, fresh off a sanctioned appearance at SXSW, churns out chamber pop that’s full of Top-40 potential. April Geesbreght‘s 2008 full-length, In Other Words, ranges from radio-ready pop to rock to folk-inspired ballads. The jazzy Tatiana Mayfield‘s voice calls to mind a cool summer night in Chicago circa 1935. Frontwoman for Bosque Brown, Mara Lee Miller has a voice that’s equal parts twang and hauntingly beautiful folk. Singer-songwriter Kristina Morland‘s gift for metaphor and clever wordplay is matched only by her porcelain voice. It’s time to stop talking about how young Maren Morris is. It robs her of the credit she deserves for crafting high-energy, ready-for-Top-40 Texas Music. Though Elizabeth Wills moved away for a time, she is still folk royalty here in the Fort. In her long career as a singer-songwriter, she’s done a lot: shared stages with the likes of Willie Nelson and Sara Hickman and performed at SXSW multiple times and also at Austin City Limits, the Kerrville Folk Festival, and all over the country. – E.G.
Artist of the Year
The Burning Hotels received raves for their recent SXSW performance, and if the cutting-room bosses are kind, the Hoteliers will be featured in this summer’s Vanessa Hudgens-Lisa Kudrow flick, Bandslam. The Campaign recently added guitarist Clayton Fike to its lineup, fleshing out frontman Tyler Woods’ soul-man-at-the-keyboards sound and letting the band rock smarter. Green River Ordinance has been touring national amphitheaters with Gavin DeGraw and Collective Soul, but that isn’t all that makes one of the Fort’s favorite bands of alt-’90s-flavored popsters shine. The guys in the Kyle Bennett Band would rather pen self-reflective lyrics and deliver laid-back melodies than kick shit. Is Josh Weathers‘ new eight-piece Version .09 of the Full Tilt Boogie Band? On Weathers and company’s new EP, Better Days, their funk-charged brand of Texas blues, brassed up by the Funkytown Workmeisters, can definitely get some booties a-shakin’. – Jimmy Fowler
Vocalist (Male)
Daniel Katsük has perfected his vocal presence as a guru seemingly influenced equally by Yusef Islam and Jamiroquai’s Jay Kay and more than capable of navigating listeners through his arrangements of strings, percussion, keys, and all manner of shimmering world-music effects. Taylor Craig Mills‘ wounded falsetto underlines his gloomy, spine-tingling indie-rock. Matt Mooty and Chance Morgan are the singers we wanted to be 20 years ago: buoyant, concise, infectious, and always beholden to a relentless beat. A lot of hip-hop artists are content to sample from their favorite sources, but AwkQuarius’ Pikahsso Allen Poe and Tahiti can also recreate the voices of cartoons, commercials, and classic soul-funk songs. Josh Weathers can blast an audience with a bourbon-soaked shout or serenade them with a raspy croon. Onstage, every mood is a good mood for him. – J.F.
Texas Music
The Merle Haggard-esque Rob Baird could be called “the boy-wonder troubadour of Texas Music.” Baird, who recently relocated to Austin, has got a new album coming out in the fall. The Hawkes‘ fiddle-laced tuneage is rich and plaintive, with a lot of classic C&W touches. Brad Hines is the musical soul of the Stockyards. He’s both headlining act and gregarious master of ceremonies at The White Elephant Saloon. We think of the Joey Green Band as the “Li’l Rascals” – or maybe The Stooges? – of local Lone Star Music: impudent, fearless, and able to glide from cowpunk thrashers to wailing existentialist ballads seamlessly. Jordan Mycoskie is Fort Worth’s answer to Loudon Wainwright: a clever, rowdy folk-influenced singer-songwriter with an intense interest in quirky human nature and a repertoire full of character studies. The Kyle Bennett Band may make you wonder what Don Henley could have done had he not dropped out of UNT and become an easy-listening superstar. The band spins intensely memorable melodies with Texas country-rock strut intact. Nineteen-year-old singer-songwriter Maren Morris is probably sick of all the comparisons – Norah Jones, Aimee Mann, Bonnie Raitt – but however you try to pin her down, she’s unalloyed Texas class with a bluesy bent. Producer-engineer-singer-songwriter-internet cult leader Phil Pritchett‘s blend of pop-culture references and arch, blog-style philosophizing is as witty as it seems spontaneous. The Stephen Pointer Band is peerless in its wily presentation of songs about hell-raising, wicked women, and bad luck rapidly turning worse. — J.F.
Songwriter
Songs like “Thrown Out” and “You Will See” find Chatterton’s Kevin Aldridge cornered, misunderstood, burdened, and confused though never anything less than captivating. Anthony Ferraro, Eaton Lake Tonics’ frontman who also goes by an alter-ego, Bob Fante, writes nervy, hallucinatory, beautifully melodic tunes that hint at but never cross over into irony. As Fante, he’s begun hinting at a political side. April Geesbreght can turn a poetic and merciless microscope on the filigreed threads of dysfunctional love. Brandin Lea, formerly of Flickerstick and now heading The February Chorus, writes and performs anthemic tunes with a sing-along allure and gloomy pieces with an eerie, spacious loneliness and grace. Your average Clint Niosi tune is a cavalcade of colorful images and demented little scraps of thought that keep listeners on their toes. “Van Gogh Complex” is as hilarious a portrait of a weird loner as “The Formless Black” is a chilly acoustic meditation on time and eternity. Carey Wolff, with a soft-voiced intensity, relays lyrics about high hopes and worst fears. He’s interested in life the way it’s really lived (growing old with humor in “This Old Man,” scarred by youthful regrets in “Untold Stories”) rather than as it’s often described by self-infatuated “singer-songwriter” types. Tim Locke writes fiercely personal lyrics that he propels through his indie-rock tuneage by crafting soaring, goosepimply choruses and haunting melodies. — J.F.
Avant-Garde/Experimental
The high-energy Drug Mountain pits intricate rhythms against groaning thrash-core, producing a racket that falls somewhere between melodic and dissonant. Andy Warhol would have adored the Transistor Tramps, whose synth-laden tuneage alternates seamlessly between dancey and gloomy. PFFF(F)T! is now Hentai Improvising Orchestra, a collective of some of the most active and learned noise- and melodymakers in North Texas. Bob Fante is a new incarnation of Anthony Ferraro, who reincarnates regularly. If Fante is experimental, it is only because of the analog tones and low-fi approach that he brings to his strung-out-sounding folk. The singer also doubles as a sidekick to Ryan Thomas Becker in Eaton Lake Tonics, a nominee that draws from a well of desert-tinted Americana. Zanzibar Snails make things up as they go along, using long, drawn-out sounds and sending listeners on Valium-spiced spacewalks. – Caroline Collier
Acoustic/Folk
A ruddy-faced 24-year-old should have a hard time pulling off a time-stained voice, but, accompanied by his low-key Thrift Store Troubadours, Sam Anderson delivers music befitting a 1920s dust storm. Kristina Morland has a similar sound but uses percussion and sonic effects to give her sparse compositions a contemporary gleam. Less reliant on vocal range is Clint Niosi, whose evocative, Southern-Gothic yarns encourage listeners to sit for a spell. A recent soujourn in West Texas gave singer-songwriter Keegan McInroe plenty of inspiration. The title track off his debut album, Mozelle, is about his late, beloved grandmother. Scott Copeland is true to true-blue country-folk, writing narratives and his own history in timeless fashion. Maybe it’s the speed at which the Blackland River Devils churn out their splendid bluegrassy hoedowns or the variety of instruments employed (mandolin, banjo, dobro). Whatever the case, the devils can mesmerize. Veteran songsmith James Michael Taylor is prolific – he releases a new album about every other month – and is an open book, sharing stories from his life with an almost shameless abandon. — C.C.
Jazz/World
Drummer and bandleader Adonis Rose‘s huge personality matches his chops. His Fort Worth Jazz Orchestra is now an established nonprofit devoted to the performance and preservation of America’s original artform. Jhon Kahsen (né Johnny Case) may be a member of the Western Swing Hall of Fame, but he’s a jazzbo at heart, having released albums of musique concrète as well as having performed straight-ahead at Sardine’s Ristorante Italiano seven nights a week for the past 25-plus years. Daymond Callahan‘s omission from many high-profile local gigs is an almost criminal no-no on the part of booking agents. Other jazz artists would do well to take notice of how skillfully he blends music from other genres into the classics. Rachella Parks‘ soulful saxophone is angelic, pure and simple. Newcomer Tatiana Mayfield‘s multi-octave voice reveals experience far beyond her years. — C.C.
Blues/Funk
James Hinkle has paid his dues and then some. There probably ain’t a club in town that hasn’t played host to the gut-tar man’s fiery axe and tal
es of woe. The ’70s-era throwbacks Josh Weathers and the True+Endeavors can stir the soul with their brassy, jumped-up rockers. A vehicle for frontman and guitarist John Zaskoda, JZ & Dirty Pool do Texas blooze right. The band is finishing up its debut album. Dirt & Earthy Vibes provide a soundtrack for rolling around in the sunshine. Holland K. Smith is still tearin’ it up, even after a few decades and millions of gigs, here and overseas. Haven’t heard much out of “Blue” Drue Webber, but any list of best-blues nominees is incomplete without the blues-guitar prodigy. Saxman Johnny Reno has been holding court at Scat Jazz Lounge over the past several months and is as energized as ever, no little thanks to his backup band, The Bitchin’ Camaros. — C.C.
Rock Album of the Year
True, two of the bands — Black Tie Dynasty and Darth Vato — broke up over the past year, and another, Green River Ordinance, is on a major label and perhaps beyond “local” purview. Still, the trifecta’s contributions over the past year deserve kudos. Black Tie’s Down Like Anyone is an opus of pounding beats, shimmering guitars, and foppish charm. DV’s Oh No, We’reDoing Great! is another gem, albeit one of a less-polished, rowdier stripe. Out of My Hands, GRO’s effort, falls somewhere in between: big guitars, even bigger choruses, and pop-pop fizz-fizz all around. Final nominee, Exit 380’s The Life & Death of Mr. & Mrs. Alexander Stone, is a concept album about a turn-of-the-century couple, writ mainly in mod-rock but with moments of organic instrumentation. — A.M.
Rock Song of the Year
Naturally, all five nominees have radio potential, even the two by bands that broke up over the past year: Black Tie Dynasty’s “You Got a Lover” and Darth Vato’s “In With the Brew.” Fate Lions’ “The Girls Are Alright” is a brilliant little blast of sunshiny Brit-pop, all jangly guitars and catchy melodies. “The Easy Way” is a pounding, pianistic rumble. Of all of the tunes, Green River Ordinance’s “Outside” probably has the best chance of radioplay, and not just ’cause it’s bombastic and bright. Major-label support always helps. – A.M.
Album of the Year
Not to say the nominees don’t rock. Most of them do, starting with Holy Moly’s cowpunk-ish Drinkin’, Druggin’ & Lovin’, a collection of straight-shooting barnyard stompers. Another LP that could be considered rock in spirit is Keegan McInroe’s Mozelle, a rootsy ode to the singer-songwriter’s grandmother. Similarly, Bosque Brown’s Baby and The Theater Fire’s Matter and Light are sepia-toned slices of Americana on the twee folk side. The remaining nominees fall on the country end of the spectrum. Phil Pritchett’s The Bullfighter Returns is Texas Music with a rocking-folk twist, Kyle Bennett Band’s Grey Sunrise is covered in Red Dirt, and 100 Damned Guns’ Musica de Tormento frolics in the bluegrass. – A.M.
Song of the Year
Gotta give points to the Arlington crew the G-Spot Boyz, whose club anthem, “Do Da Stanky Legg,” got all kinds of local airplay and filled club floors from here to Big D and beyond. Equally danceable though less gangsta is AwkQuarius’ ’70s-soul-inflected “Let’s Hit the Town.” The other two nominees — Exit 380’s “Alexander Stone” and Clint Niosi’s “My Mephistophilis” — are blends of Threepenny Opera and backporch ramblin’. Exit 380’s tune is decidedly melancholy, while Niosi’s starts off as a sweet-natured yarn, with a whole lotta pickin’ and a-grinnin’, before soon shifting gears into a swaying, dissonant death march. — A.M.
R&B/Rap
A good mix of old-school party boys and gangstas. On the throw-up-your-hands-and-say-“Yeah!” side of the equation are the soul-influenced duo AwkQuarius (featuring members of the dearly departed PPT) and the Rivercrest Yacht Club, whose rhymes about Lacan and Thunderbird wine put the band (replete with a flesh-and-blood rhythm section) somewhere between MC Hawking and The Beastie Boys. Immortal Soldierz and Lil’ Cas-Iron are all about the Benjamins, whereas Royal South, Rom/o No E, and Smooth Vega take a less G’ed out, more positive approach to the standard sound. – A.M.
DJ/Beatsmith
DJ Avi, a.k.a. 26-year-old Israeli born Avi Marco, has a sunshine-above/thunder-below attitude to his luscious club mixes. Nourished by the world music sounds he absorbed in Tel Aviv and other international cities, Avi marries plush keyboard lines and soaring extended vocal samples to storms of shifting rhythms. DJ 4eyez, brooding and politically aware, manipulates and distorts hip-hop vocals into a codeine-drowsy, sometimes ominous, always memorable procession of beats and voices. Last year’s winner, DJ Danny West, is a good-timer whose Cowtown dance card is filled every night with gigs at bars, clubs, and special events. He has an impeccable ear for blending R&B, rap, rock, funk, reggae, reggaeton, and ’80s music into sweet, relentless attacks of pure danceability. – J.F.
Tribute/Cover Band
Long before the modern-day corporate rock antics of Audioslave, there was a band called Rage Against the Machine, a four-headed beast of likeminded, left-leaning funk-metal. Their dream lives on in Prophets of Rage, Funkytown’s lone tribute to the only rap-metal band ever worth a shit. Standing out in the crowded arena of local hair-metal tribute bands is Child O’ Mine, the 817’s tip-of-the-stovepipe hat to G.N.F’N.R. (that’s “Guns N’ Fuckin’ Roses”). Like the clothes, the licks are tight. Poo Live Crew‘s raucous updates of ’80s hits are nothing but pop-parody genius, like Weird Al if he ever got laid. Velvet Love Box is the only cover band — heck, the only local band — that we know of to have UTA alumnus Lou Diamond Phillips sit in. The longtime house band at Bronco’s Sports Bar & Grill, among other casual hangouts, is also supremely talented, playing spot-on renditions of major entries in the pop canon. “Big” Mike Richardson is a one-man classic-rock jukebox who can nail everyone from Macca to Brian Wilson and even Iron Maiden. Stoogeaphilia is all about the party, especially if your type of party involves mentally disintegrating under the caustic bile of proto-punk bashed out by a who’s-who of area rockers. The band faithfully returns tunes by The Stooges, The Ramones, and other ’70s punk legends to the stage.
— Steve Steward
Hard Rock
This category is the sound of a boozer at a house party who’s about to puke and then rally, the mixtape driving your drunken id, the dude at the Circle K who always smells like weed. Perennial favorites The Me-Think‘s brand of big, dumb, “booze heavy, play heavier” party-rock can fog up your noggin. The Great Tyrant assaults your reptilian brain via circus-dub basslines, monstrous lurching rhythms, and curtains of stilted, creepy keyboard noise pushed to the brink by haunting, tortured vocals. Jefferson Colby is a band on the brink in a parallel universe where the earth-shattering musical moment of the ’90s came not from Seattleans but from bands like Kyuss: a blend of raw thunder and classic rock. River Oaks’ Merkin takes In Utero-era Nirvana and injects it with a dose of homegrown punk. Stella Rose‘s droney garage-rock locks into grooves but only to blast them with seething blues-inspired riffage, leaving you wondering what the hell just happened and if it can happen again, please. Unit 21‘s devotion to The Cause is matched only by their devotion to The Party (the boozy kind, not the political one). The band has toured Japan and will return there in August. – S.S.
Heavy Metal
Addnerim‘s dizzying arrays of moody prog-rock defy physics, tearing open portals to math-rock heaven and unleashing malevolent metal. Blood of the Sun picks up where Deep Purple should have gone: into space, dude, in a time-traveling Dodge Super Bee. The local band’s organ-laden grooves are as heavy as they are hypnotic. No Scope‘s melodic alt-metal explodes into shrapnel of nü-skool riffs and surprisingly danceable beats, lulling listeners into relaxing one minute and pummeling them the next. Sky Eats Airplane‘s anthemic metalcore choruses are laced with razor-sharp riffs. Longtime rap metallers Sweetooth continue to rock the party, churning out fist-pumping jams and hardcore assaults, all laid down over greasy, Southern-fried licks. Don’t let Urizen‘s Devo-esque stage spectacle distract you from the acrobatic metal on display. High-flying guitarmonies and mind-blowingly shifty time signatures make for a math-metal fever dream. – S.S.
Alt-Country
The lineup may keep changing, but frontman Kevin Aldridge’s Eagles-esque vehicle Chatterton rocks the free world. The band is about to release its long-awaited sophomore album. The Dove Hunter men are at once introspective and bombastic, building hypnotic drones beneath frosty layers of atmospheric guitar then detonating them into roaring highway jams. The band is just about to enter the studio. The Orbans rope you in with poppy mega-hooks framed by gorgeous lap-steel twang, and then before you remember why you dug Whiskeytown, they turn the amps up and rock. Telegraph Canyon ties a dusty sadness to driving beats and beautiful harmonies. The band’s brand of indie folk-rock is wholly original and distinctively Fort Worth. Another distinctly Fort Worthian band, the Whiskey Folk Ramblers have a Dust-Bowl aesthetic and penchant for rootsy songcraft, keeping them rolling across the country like a booze-tent revival, delivering old-timey toe-tappers in a cowpunk state of mind. The Theater Fire might better be called art-country. One of the area’s best known-musical exports, TTF tilts tradition into dreamy, loping jaunts borne on trumpets, turning roots music into something entirely new but familiar. – S.S.
Fort Worth Music Hall of Fame: Class of ’09
Melissa Kirkendall
In 2007, the filmmaker sat on the Lone Star International Film Festival’s “Music & Film” panel with T. Bone Burnett, Robert Rodriguez, and Johnny Reno. She had every right to be there. Her resumé includes stints as rock-club owner (Mad Hatter’s, Engine Room, Impala), promoter, event producer (Dallas Arts Festival, Weekly Music Awards), booking agent (she helped put Ridglea Theater on the map), and mentor to countless musicians. — J.F.
James McMurtry
Though raised in Virginia and now based out of Austin, the native Fort Worthian alt-country singer-songwriter plays here constantly (mainly at The Aardvark) and deserves hosannas for his newfound political bent. His criticisms of the Bush administration, consumer culture, and plain ol’ ignorance are hummable and timely. — A.M.
Buddy Miles
As a teenager, Omaha native George Allen Miles toured and recorded with R&B stars like Ruby & the Romantics and Wilson Pickett. “Buddy” achieved prominence in the late ’60s, playing with Jimi Hendrix in the funky, exploratory Band of Gypsys. In the early ’00s, he played around Fort Worth in the Bluesberries with ex-Lightnin’/Black Oak Arkansas guitarist Rocky Athas and was a fixture at the Keys Lounge’s weekly blues jams. He died in Austin at the age of 60 of congestive heart failure on Feb. 26, 2008. – K.S.
Chad Percy (a.k.a. Cadillac Fraf)
Before he died on Jan. 10, 2009, from a scooter accident, Cadillac Fraf (né Chad Percy) was the embodiment of what the Fort Worth music scene — heck, any local scene anywhere — should be: ballsy, unapologetic, and open-minded and never arrogant or condescending. The old-timey singer-songwriter and former frontman of the Mockingbird Cartel had a saying that every artist should live by: “It may suck, but at least it’s real.” — A.M.
