ARTS
The Michigan Daily Tuesday, June 4, 1985
Label-less dB's turn to bar-band r
4
Page 6
By Byron L. Bull first time you hear them, but bring
inexhaustible delight after in-
The ,dB's have paid their dues, numerable listenings-the dB's con-
Iwith interest. lure up the sort of songs that radio's
They may he simply the best pop all about or was until it became ab-
band today, certainly in this country, sorbed with the two-week superstar
with their irresistably catchy tunes, syndrome.
bright, hook-filled melodies braced No American label would even
with a hard-rock backbone of bold touch the dB's initially, who had to go
guitars. Classic pop, acknowledging to England and Albion records in 1981
its roots while striking out new where they released two excellent
ground, songs that strike you with albums (Stands For deciBels and
subconscious sense of familiarity the Repurcussions) and half a dozen four
Radio angst
What terrified me about that over-
By arwulfarwulf blown commercial was the fact that
this was an FM station, and the ad
M ADNESS. was pure AM. There used to be a dif-
ference between the two. I recall
While walking through a retail twiddling the dial fifteen years ago,
outlet, I was confronted with mad- and marveling at the lack of brutality
ness. They had a Detroit pop/rock on the air; FM generally meant that
station oozing out of the hidden things were a bit laid back- and that
speakers. What I encountered was an there was no danger of screaming
advertising break. The string of hype. Today FM is overrun with
commercial hype tantrums which oc- avaricious gangsters, manipulating
cur between sets of commercially the Youth Market. And the public
structured pop tunes. It's often dif- radio stations are few and somewhat
ficult to determine where the music ignored.
stopsand the ads begin. It's the rock principle. The term
This particular moment scared me "Rock & Roll" means nothing today.
cold. Just like those incessantly inculcated
There was a man running his mouth commercials, Rock & Roll has
as fast and as loud and frantic as become meaningless through min-
possible. I can't recall just what he dless repetition. The moguls of the
was screaming, and it never matters recording industry have made Rock &
anyway. This fellow was rambling at Roll into a catch-all phrase, to be ap-
top speed, barking and gurgling about plied to anything presentable on the
shrimp dinners or men's clothing, and youth market. Ann Arbor now has its
he got more intense as the commer- very own Rock station, patterned af-
cial progressed. I kept expecting him ter all the other Rock stations, all
to start gagging and vomiting. When programmed out of L.A. Give 'em
what they want, once they've been
told what to want. Rockety rockety
rock rock rock. Tune in for the very
latest in cock rock, jock rock, schlock
rock and flock rock.
Rock seldom if ever Rolls any more.
I've heard actual Rock & Roll now and
then, and it's still terrifically good to
move to. It's just that so much hor-
seshit has been panderedin the name
someone makes such a din, I assume of Rock & Roll, I doubt that we can
something's gone wrong. trust the label anymore. As Charlie
I glanced at the other folks in the Parker said, it's all just music. My
store, and it was obvious they had complaint is, the music is being ob-
heard this maniac on several oc- scured by and ultimately replaced
casions. One gal yawned. I realized with conscienceless sellout tactics.
then that this sort of overstating is ac- Radio stations air television commer-
ceptable in our benzedrine culture. cials. Does that make sense?
Twenty-some years ago, in fact, I'd like to play an extended
Murray the "K" was introducing the saxophone solo for those people in the
frantic AM DJ style, and in a way I store who thought nothing of an ex-
respect the tradition. It's especially tended angst ad. I question our ability
fun in controlled doses, carefully to follow creative complexity. The sax
edited onto '60s pop compilations. It's would frighten the Americans into
quite tolerable in the past tense. Most hushed confusion, the emotive rasp of
cultural phenomena are. Even the the tenor's reed would send them
most disgustingly commercial music scurrying. All those ideas, all at once,
from the 1920s has charm and is easily with personal traits attached, it would
redeemable. It's defused by the be too much for them. Few would sit
passage of time. No grinning com- still for it.
puter lurks behind the scene, waiting Make as much noise as you like, as
to pounce. long as you're selling something.
star singles within the span of a year.
The Brits didn't know what to make of
the guys, though copies of their recor-
ds drifted back stateside and into the
hands of a few influential critics,
notably The Times' Robert Palmer
and Rolling Stones' Dave Marsh
brough them some degree of
prominence.
Creative differences between co-
frontmen Chris Stamey (whose in-
clinations fall somewhat left of center
field) and Pete Holsapple (who has a
warmer, more traditional style) put
the band on hold, leading to Stamey's
eventual departure to pursue a solo
career just as the group inked a deal
with the New York-based Bearsville
label.
Holsapple, bassist-lead guitarist
Gene Holder, and drummer Will
Rigby set about refashioning the band
and last year released their first
American release, Like This, which
Holsapple has called "our third first
album." The group collectively
agrees it is the definitive statement on
just what kind of band they are and
where they're going-a faster, Pete Holsapple and the rest of the dB's rock at Rick's tonight.
Southern accented flavoring. The dB's remain a cult band, leap. But the band members are
As a lyricist Pete Holsapple has particularly at colleges, though not seasoned pros, used to setbacks and
matured (what an ugly word) into a being from Minneapolis or Athens, complications, and with the same in-
writer on the order of Graham Parker and not affecting a new-psychedelic stinct of a shark (swim or drown) they
or Difford and Tilbrook, who can impressionist pose-they aren't packed their Fender Stratocasters
write about the well-tread territory of fashionable enough to find themselves and hit the bar scene, which opens up
falling in and out of love with enough caught up in any trendy whirlpool, interesting possibilities-being on the
wit and insight to still find something But a tour last fall with R.E.M. (in- road and recordless will put the band
new to say. That "Love Is For cluding an appearance at the to the acid test-which is how bands
Lovers" or "She Got Soul," two of the Michigan Theater in October that's like the Who found legendary fame.
most innocent, charming odes of af- still being talked about) put their So here they come our way, and it's
fection to be pressed into vinyl last name on quite a few more tongues and Rick's that has the honor of hosting
summer failed to get any airplay laid the foundation for more extensive them. And while the band definitely
while cliche rotten trash like "Bor- touring of their own. deserves to be playing a larger hall,
derline" got blanket radio coverage is Until their label folded on them. one has to savor the chance to catch
itself an uglier denouncement of Bearsville went belly up just as the the dB's in such intimate surroun-
commercial radio than I can imagine. band had the momentum to make the dings.
Detroit rolls with Katrina and Waves
By Marla Gold and bless whoever invented the guitar.
y The hand sounds great. Katrina's voice wafts through
the hall, sounding half like a little girl in the church choir,
N THE STREETS of downtown Detroit, piles of dirt and half like the sultry woman from some young men's
mix with litter, blocking the sidewalk. Street people, dreams. That and her obvious comfort onstage draw the
half-hidden in the darkness of alley doorways, take audience to her like a cat to a bowl of warm milk.
healthy swigs from bottles of cheap liquor. Overhead, a The show starts off on an upbeat note, quickly
huge train of concrete blocks the stars. showcasing Rew's finesses on the guitar. By the fourth
The scene suddenly changes. The sidewalks become song, "If You Want Crying," the crowd taps along with the
crowded with people, some laughing, some shoving again- quick tempo, many singing along.
st one another to be the next in line at Nikki's pizza or Seven songs from their 13-song set were from their self-
another Greektown tradition. Further down the block, on titled American debut album, crowd faves being "Going
the steps of an old, now-defunct church, soon-to-be yup- Down to Liverpool" (which the Bangles covered for a hit
pies hang out. The costumes are all basically alike: black song), "Mexico," and their recent top-ten hit "Walking on
leather jackets, black jeans-preferably Smith's, if not, Sunshine."
then Levi's-andspiked or buzzed hair. "Watusi," an unreleased-in-America single with a
The sign above these fashionable lads and lasses says Motown-Western-Spanish sound was the obvious favorite,
"St. Andrew's Hall." Inside, the church pews and the securing hoots of approval at regular intervals. A five-
Sunday-morning worshippers are gone. minute drum solo highlighted this song, establishing
Tonight the huge, gaping room is filled with music wor- drummer Cooper as one of the truly talented.
shippers. They came to catch the Detroit debut of Katrina The highlight of the show, however, was the retirement-
and the Waves, a melodic guitar-based quartet just three age woman who pushed her way to the front of the stage
weeks into their first North American tour. midway through the show to hand Katrina a message
A little after midnight three blue spots light balloon: "We mourn the passing of your youth." Sadly,
onto the stage floor. The crowd roars. Drummer Alex she reminded me of the people I had seen on my way to St.
Cooper finds his territory behind a shiny set of drums. Andrews two hours earlier, casting a haunting reality on
Then Katrina, a native of Kansas, appears on one of the the make-believe atmosphere of a club concert.
blue spots. Kimberly and bassist Vince de la Cruz follow As we left St. Andrews, a friend said Katrina and the
suit. Waves was the happiest-looking band he had ever seen. I
Guitars scream. A voice begins simmering, growing guess that comes with the territory-makinga living from
louder and more urgent. The crowd begins to clap. I smile, a fairy tale.
IF