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PETE DROGE
The Fez, New York, February 17, 1998
As a wise, harp-blowing man (the bigger one) once said, "It's the hook that brings you back." In pop songcraft, it's the hook that marks the difference between memorable song and musical doodle. And make no mistake about it, Portland, Ore.'s Pete Droge knows his way around a killer, relentlessly memorable melodic hook. They were all over the place on the singer/songwriter/guitarist's first two albums, 1994's Necktie Second and 1996's Find a Door, and he's got a healthy new batch embedded throughout his forthcoming effort, Spacey & Shakin. The question is, where the hell were these trademark hooks when Droge (looking for all the world like the lost Hanson brother back from college) and his four-member Sinners band took the Fez stage?
Certainly not in the guitar shrieks of the opening "Evan's Radio,"
a pseudo-psychedelic fuzz-bomb that found Droge eschewing his
critical (albeit favorable) comparisons to Tom Petty in favor of
Dinosaur Jr.-flavored generic indie-rock noise. The same
more-is-less approach crippled other new songs like "Spacey &
Shakin," "Please the Ghost," and "Song 4." Even his insanely
catchy, happy-go-lucky suicide anthem "If You Don't Love Me (I'll
Kill Myself)" lost much of its bounce when hurled against the
band's wall-of-sound. Rest assured, the Sinners can rock as
convincingly as any other Northwestern band, albeit sometimes so
relentlessly they didn't so much roll with the songs as bulldoze
right through them.
The key word here is "sometimes," because for every misstep, Droge
and Co. did kick up an undeniable gem. The resilient chorus to "It
Doesn't Have to Be that Way" muscled defiantly through the noise,
while Droge's best song to date, the beautifully crafted "Eyes on
the Ceiling," (from the new album) wouldn't give up the ghost if
pummeled by Pantera. Both songs were testimony to Droge's
considerable songwriting talent, though their standout success
tonight owed just as much to mutton-chopped guitarist Peter
Stroud'sexcellent slide work. Stroud's slide playing was also
featured prominently on "Walking By My Side," which found the band
slowing down to a blues crawl and Droge raising goose bumps on
goose bumps every time he slipped into the lover's lament's
gorgeous, delicately understated chorus.
The show's high water mark, however, came with the closing,
Exile on Main Street-style swagger of "Brakeman." A bit of
a filler-track from "Find a Door" with a no-brainer hook the size
of South America, the band used the song as a springboard for an
extended boogie jam that -- against all known laws of the extended
boogie jam -- didn't seem to last long enough. By the time
Droge finished his own none-too-shabby lead solo and swooped back
down for one final, raucous take on the chorus, it was almost easy
to forgive and forget the band's earlier indulgence of volume over
melody.
If Droge was occasionally tight with discernible melodies, one-time
subway busker and current indie-darling Mary Lou Lord and her
four-piece band dispersed them like campaign buttons during her
opening set. Lord's sharp-but-sweet folk-pop lost none of its
sparkle in her band's exuberant set, while her easy stage-charm and
humor suggested a seasoned performer completely at home on stage in
front of an industry-heavy crowd and film crew (the evening's show
was being taped for HBO's upcoming Reverb music series.)
When informed that she would have to perform her final song over
again because feedback had rendered the first "take" unsuitable for
television, Lord sighed and gave the audience an apologetic,
bemused shrug. "I'm not in the subways anymore," she said, and
launched into "Lights are Changing" again. It only got better.
RICHARD SKANSE