Press

Richard Buckner

01/21/04 Silverlake Lounge

After a few minutes of tweaking his levels, Buckner began to whisper a song so softly that many in the audience took a minute to realize the show had started. After that minute, however, the low guttural refrain had crept through the crowd and was now standing in between us all, making us feel physically closer to Buckner than anyone actually was. With this simple magic, Buckner pinned the audience to the floor for the next 90 minutes. There is something singular about Buckner’s performanc. Stripped of all theatrics and affectation, he sings his songs without whimsy, condemnation, regret or rancor. It is in this way, perhaps, that he can stir such emotions in his audience. By the end of the set, we’d had conversations with God, our mothers, our lovers and the road. Stories and sentiments that could not be overlooked, propelled into the audience by a man with a smoky voice and an acoustic guitar. – MUSICSPORK

The Fold Compilation

“THE FOLD COMPILATION” (Credit Records)
“The boon of this compilation of alternative-rockers who have performed at the well-booked Fold at the Silverlake Lounge in Los Angeles is not in its songs by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Patrick Park and Polyphonic Spree. It’s in allowing the rest of the country to discover quality unsigned SoCal acts like Midnight Movies, Trespassers William, Silversun Pickups, Gwendolyn, and Eleni Mandell.” NEILÊSTRAUSS – NY TIMES – December 5, 2003

LA Weekly
“From the classic guitar-rock of Alaska! to the au courant synth-pop of ’80s revivalists Metric, from the uplifting psychedelic chorales of the Polyphonic Spree to the somber balladry of Acetone, from the gentle folk of Patrick Park to the bombastic edge of And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, The Fold Compilation is a pretty wild ride. Though it’s essentially a rock collection, its eclectic wanderlust supersedes any genre fixation, transporting the listener from the Cambodian surf-lounge of Dengue Fever through the lush trip-hop of Maimou and into the self-deprecating old-school country of Mike Stinson. It’s truly an all-embracing aesthetic. Where else can you hear the bluesy swells of Devics, crying out for love on You in the Glass, alongside the upturned musical apple cart that is Gwendolyn singing Insect Perspective, her thoughtful ode to a bug?

The story of this unusual release began with fledgling record-label owner Chris Jerde asking Scott Sterling, promoter of rock theme nights at the Silverlake Lounge, the Derby and Tangier known collectively as the Fold, What do you think about doing a record where you are the creative director, but not do a Ôlive from the club’ thing, just get all the bands together that you love and create a document of the scene? Sterling had been trying to do just that on his own but didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to see it through. So the two formed a naturally symbiotic partnership to release songs Sterling thought were hits . . . classics.

The result is an astonishingly good double album Ñ just released on Jerde’s Credit Records Ñ that assembles a track each from 29 mostly local bands that have played Sterling’s stages over the last seven years. Perhaps most gratifying in an industry often dominated by male perspectives, female vocalists and performers are well represented on The Fold Compilation, which kicks off with the pounding drums of Midnight Movies’ Nico-esque chanteuse, Gena Olivier. Sterling says the gender equilibrium was not premeditated but simply reflects a musical community with lots of strong rock women.

It’s a fascinating aural snapshot of the Silver Lake music scene and really captures the untainted spirit of experimentation Sterling has encouraged there, from regularly engaging the totally anomalous Dengue Fever since they tickled the fancy of the gay retirees who make up the happy-hour crowd at the Silverlake Lounge, to booking the 25-member Polyphonic Spree before they’d garnered any notoriety, just for a hoot. Though the album features obvious local favorites like the 88 and Eleni Mandell and several acts that are already gaining international acclaim, such as Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and the Warlocks, it showcases underground gems such as Bedroom Walls along with promising newcomers like Giant Drag. It’s a collection that, like Sterling himself, takes risks and embraces the unknown Ñ sometimes even by accident.

Devendra [Banhart's first booking] was funny, Sterling explains, because he sent me this tape of himself with this guy on one side it said “Vetiver” and on the other it said “Devendra” and I listened to it and I liked what I heard on the side that said “Devendra” so I called him and I set up a show. I came down [for the performance], and when he started playing I realized that they had labeled the tape wrong . . . I’d booked the wrong one! But I ended up really liking Devendra . . . he reminded me of a weird combination of Vincent Gallo and Ed Grimley.
Asked about future releases with Jerde or other plans for the Fold, the characteristically unassuming Sterling says his primary goal is just to stay in business. He takes no credit for cultivating the scene in Silver Lake, though his efforts to champion good music have not been lost on the neighborhood’s performers. Metric’s Emily Haines calls the Silverlake Lounge her favorite place to play, because Some of the other venues in town seem geared more toward showcasing for record companies than playing for an actual audience. Now, with The Fold Compilation, Sterling has another way to show his ear for unusual artists, great music and exceptional performances. As Banhart says, Man, it went down just right. – Liam Gowing – LA WEEKLY

Record of the Week – R&R
“Fuck Mapquest and The Thomas Guide – this two-disc set is all you really need to find your way around Los Angeles. Since 1997, a small Eastside club called The Fold has been home to some of the best damn bands not only in L.A., but in the country. Now expanded to two venues – it’s original home, Silverlake Lounge, and the larger Derby – The Fold continues to bring the eclectic noise, especially with this brilliant set. Check out B.R.M.C.’s rare “Loaded Gun” or contributions from out-of-towners like …Trail of Dead and The Polyphonic Spree. Previous Record of the Week honorees like Metric and The 88 are included here, and up ‘n’ comers like Rex Aquarium, Midnight Movies, and The Warlocks are definitely worth a listen. Any naysayer who thinks good music is dead just needs to spend some time with these two discs. There’s a reason the lighted sign above the Fold in Silverlake Lounge’s tiny stage says “Salvation”; You find it here.” – Frank Correia – Radio&Records

Fold Never Folds
Six years of the best in live local underground music and the Fold is still going strong, a fact represented by the just-released Fold Compilation on Credit Records. The club collective started up at the Silverlake Lounge, migrated to include nights at the Derby, and now offers Tuesday nights at Tangier as well. Bands like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Black Heart Procession and the Polyphonic Spree called the Fold home before they broke, and appear on the double CD alongside local upstarts such as Midnight Movies. If you’ve missed the November 21 CD release party featuring comp participants Eleni Mandell, Patrick Park, Mike Stinson and many others, never fear: the next stellar bill is just around the corner. – Music Connection

Deerhoof, Viva K., Evening

05/23/03 Derby

Rock is the new dance is the new swing, apparently. It’s been 15 months since the Derby relegated the dwindling lindy-hop crowd to the back bar every night but Monday; tonight, Scott Sterling’s Fold annexed even that space. The occasion: a screening of Our Time, a well-meaning documentary by Piper Ferguson and Ravi Dhar (also guitarist of the middle-billed Viva K.) that oversells the current Brooklyn-centric garage and electroclash scenes via generous live footage and numbingly repetitive interviews. (Can you say Williamsburg? Can you say it again?) The filmmakers want to make a case for the political urgency of this crop of bands, but inclusions as bland as the Realistics or as witless as W.I.T. don’t help. As for the 3-D portion of the lineup: Evening, featured briefly in the film, are a Bay Area five-piece with a tightly coiled rhythm section, a Fender RhodesÐpounding front man and a thorough familiarity with Interpol’s effects-box settings. Locals Viva K. were more substantial, despite the so-old-it’s-new-again combination of programmed rhythms and Dhar’s muscular guitar. (Remember Blackbird?) Except for Love Everybody, their songs were driven less by hooks than by Scott Zweizen’s lively bass parts and the compelling presence of singer Christine Evans, a rail-thin, full-throated cross between Karens Carpenter and O. In this fashion-forward company, Deerhoof’s near groovelessness was downright invigorating. Bent pop material like Dummy Discards a Heart from their recent Apple O’ was transformed into something much further out, thanks to the CreamÐmeetsÐRed Krayola interaction among guitarists John Dietrich and Chris Cohen and drummer Greg Saunier, an inspired, almost overpowering player. These three did most of the heavy lifting, but Japanese-born bassist Satomi Matsuzaki defused their muso machismo in disconcerting ways, as when a lengthy passage of Nels ClineÐworthy instrumental improv was cut off cold by Matsuzaki’s stratospheric second-language chirp: Bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny. Franklin Bruno – LA WEEKLY

Neko Case

05/20/03 Derby

It wasn’t the recent will-she-or-won’t-she-pose-for-Playboy rumors that made people press like carnival rubes against the stage, gawking at the attractive enough Neko Case. Besides, beauty’s a curse, as she warned on Pretty Girls ( around curves so comely and sinister, they blame it on you, pretty girl). I love her voice, folks kept saying mantralike, almost apologetically, as if to explain why they’d been dragged out of bed or away from other things. You could bask in a voice that big and radiant, and it was especially suited to the room, arcing unbroken along the curving wooden spine of the Derby’s inside-the-whale ceiling. Between songs, Case came off as pleasantly self-deprecating, apologizing for sounding like one of those husbandless trolls in their 30s, after a series of sharp asides about friends having babies. She lauded upright bassist Tom V. Ray’s ZZ-length beard, and wrestled throughout the set with her stubborn tenor guitar’s tuning. These guitars are mad at me, she explained. They’ve been in the closet a while, and they’re having their way. The voice justified all minor distractions, though, coiling up languidly in the arms of the Sylvia & Wood standard Look for Me (I’ll Be Around) and trailing off celestially desolate among Jon Rauhouse’s pedal-steel shivers on Hank Williams’ Alone and Forsaken. While Case imbued these and other writers’ tunes Ñ including a contrastingly ebullient version of Bob Dylan’s Bucket of Rain Ñ with a modern kind of Patsy Cline/Dusty Springfield charisma, the former punk rocker was most affecting on fervently delivered, multilayered original ballads like Blacklisted and Deep Red Bells. Even with a voice that can fill canyons, it was the somber way she delivered those chilling, more personal words that later carved trails in the memory. (Falling James) – LA WEEKLY

Bedroom Walls

05/28/03 Derby

Bedroom Walls describe their music as Romanticore Ñ approximating (among other things) “the last paragraph of The Great Gatsby . . . knowing your ex-girlfriend is happier now . . . sighing too loudly and too often.” What sets it apart from typical diary-rock is that this is also music about joy. Joy is a difficult thing to write toward. Joy isn’t mere happiness, nor is it ecstasy. Joy may be pleasure you don’t earn, simply allow yourself to experience; it’s about surrender. Coming back again to the band’s mission statement Ñ “knowing your ex-girlfriend is happier now” Ñ this joy is sad and kind of beautiful, the ability to shrug it off. What’s familiar is the willingness to be absurd, refusing to let your intelligence become a burden. Because joy is absurd, joy’s all about enjoying things more than you should, be they cigarettes, wind or bedroom walls. Even music. Perhaps especially music. Music has to be liked a bit too much. Bedroom Walls make that easy, playing songs with awkward perfection; music to dance to like an idiot, in your room alone, or in the opulently lit Derby. How to convey the music? It’s shamelessly melodic, kind of ambient, kind of spaced-out, surprisingly clever. It’s like your little sister on drugs, insouciant and a bit off-the-wall. It’s all these things, but it’s precisely them; this is a personality carefully crafted and practiced. However, pop skill doesn’t preclude the need to rock out. It’s just that when Bedroom Walls do, they caution the crowd they’re about to do so. As exquisite and polite as any dandy. (Russel Swensen) – LA Weekly

Green and Yellow TV, The 88, Gliss

04/03/03 Silverlake Lounge

Salvation. That’s the word appearing over the stage at the Silver Lake Lounge. And that’s what you’ll find at the Fold: Salvation from all the I-wanna-sound-like-everyone-else music out there. Especially if you were there April 3rd to see The Green and Yellow TV, The 88, and Gliss. These three bands call Silver Lake home, and portend a bright future for the music scene here. Bright, powerful, indie-pop, that is. Silver Lake has a long history as an incubator of innovative musical acts, and these bands prove that tradition is not letting up. Those who arrived early were treated to an excellent set by Gliss . A relatively new band, they performed with a class and confidence that is not often seen in an opening act. Martin Klingman’s vocals weaved in and out of catchy guitar riffs, as he switched between guitar and keyboards .. Setting up stage, The 88 had the appearance of a lounge act. A five-piece in suits and ties, they hit the stage running with their powerful, catchy brand of sophisticated power-pop tunes. Harmonies from the entire band backed the Bud-Holly-esque singer’s dynamic vocals. They were tight, together, and very entertaining. The only people having more fun than those in the nearly-full venue were those on the stage. The 88′s songs ranged from pop harmonies to wanna-move-your-body grooves to the outright zany and fun. The powerful beats from Green and Yellow TV drummer Dusty, and booming bass left one’s head nodding to the beat involuntarily. Brandon from The 88 added to the band’s flavor, playing guest percussion through the set. Todd O’Keefe’s down-to-earth melodies and pumping guitar suggest influences of indie favorites such as Pavement or even psychedelic classics like the Beatles. The opening harmonies of “The Moon Hoax,” or the catchy chorus of mp3.com download favorite “That Says It All” leave one with the feeling that this band will go places. This was a great night, with a line-up of bands that are unlikely to disappoint. The Silver Lake Scene is alive and well. With venues willing to play such great, local, up-and-coming artists, there is much to be heard in Northeast Los Angeles.

- Stephen Messer -Northeast Observer

Updates

04/04/03

METRIC have finished their record and it’s real good and coming out in June on Enjoy Records.

GWENDOLYN has a new record called ‘Dew’ and it’s beautiful and strange and there’s a record release at the Derby on the 27th April.

03/29/03

Brian from the band IRVING separated his shoulder.

During their March residency at the Fold in Silverlake Lounge, The HIGH SPEED SCENE signed a big old contract with the Neptunes’ Star Trak label and are gonna make a big old record. Stay tough, boys.

MIDNIGHT MOVIES are gonna be interviewed and perform live in studio on KCRW’s Newground show with Chris Douridas. It is supposed to air on Saturday, April 12th or the 19th at 12p on 89.9 FM.

AUTOLUX is still mixing their record and making it all complexer.

Please do not feed the Electric Pinata.

Metric

02/05/03 Silverlake Lounge

“Welcome to the Metric anti-vanity show,” announced the group’s lead singer Emily Haines. “We’re Metric, and the smoke machine is off. I brought something to read if anyone wants to, a little bit from Einstein.” The group launched into a set filled with wordy, new wave-style rock songs. Haines’ voice had a post-coital allure, though her lyrics had more to do with the complications that enter relationships after the sex has stopped. The songs were propulsive, effective and unadorned. James Shaw’s guitar work was free of tricks. The rhythm section’s parts were inherited, not invented. … Haines’ voice is a fabulous instrument — one moment smoky and redolent like Portishead’s Beth Gibbons, the next girly and vacant…. “Dead disco! Dead funk! Dead rock & roll!” she screamed as the band’s final rave-up climaxed. ” – Alec Hanley Bemis, LA WEEKLY

Devendra Banhart

01/17/03 Silverlake Lounge

As the bearded, black-haired Banhart removed his brown cloche hat and sat Indian-style on an Oriental rug in the middle of the stage, one feared we were in for more posturing. But obviously he is committed to the wigged-out path: He would retain the cross-legged pose for the rest of his performance; a front row of about 20 audience members did the same. This was but the first sign of his power as a performer; his eccentricities had already charmed us. At 11:30, Banhart took out his guitar, asked for a glass of red wine, closed his eyes and began picking out small acoustic figures. When he opened his mouth, he unleashed a beautiful warble that brought to mind 1) black female blues singers from scratchy old 78s; 2) Ravi Shankar; 3) your best-ever psychedelic experience; 4) the blind-man charms of Jose Feliciano, Andre Bocelli and Ray Charles; and 5) a wizened Chinese scholar yawning as he schooled you in the Tao of folk rock. Banhart’s lyrics were so freeform as to be almost indescribable, but I’ll never forget his couplets about the guy who put ovaries in his mouth so his dogs wouldn’t die, or the moment he sang, “My friends are useless hens/they don’t lay anymore.” A half-hour later, after nine brilliantly inchoate songs and fragments, Banhart was gone.

- Alec Hanley Bemis, LA WEEKLY

Neko Case

11/13/02 Derby

On Blacklisted, Neko Case’s breakthrough third solo album, you are struck first by the voice. Think Patsy Cline meets Nick Cave — beautiful and sad, drenched in reverb, haunted but not unhappy. Case sounds like a wild horse; she is untamed but vital. One might come to a few conclusions about the singer, that she is a bohemian girl, a blowsy drunk, a fun companion for a road trip. After an opening set by old-timey indie rockers Jim Jenny and the Pinetops (think O Brother, Where Art Thou? in thrift-store T-shirts), Case emerged onto the Derby’s small stage wearing a formfitting black outfit and a plush cheetah-print hat over a mane of rich red hair thick enough for a shampoo commercial. She removed the hat, and on came Her Boyfriends, a backup band consisting of multi-instrumentalist Jon Rauhouse on banjo, guitar and pedal steel and Tom V. Ray on standup bass. The former had the look of a record geek, the latter of a hillbilly lawn dwarf — complete with fuzzy beard and corduroy jacket in need of elbow patches. Case’s songs focused on emotion and atmosphere. Between the resonance of her voice and the ethereal hum and twang of the minimal backing band, you felt pulled in multiple directions. One minute you were floating, the next you were smashed upon the rocks. The songs never resolve, and in many respects they’re a mess: one part Americana, one part overwrought torch song, and — in a cover of Aretha Franklin’s “Runnin’ Out of Fools” — classic R&B. Case definitely lacks the discipline and grace that proper training brings. Still, though you may not remember her particular melodies, there’s an abiding beauty you can’t forget. It’s high drama all around, punctuated by vivid non sequiturs. “It looks a lot like engine oil and tastes like being poor and small and Popsicles in summer,” she sang in “Deep Red Bells.” With Case it’s that time of the month all month long: Everything might go horribly wrong, but the depth of feeling makes it so all right that you’re willing to ride that roller-coaster valentine for the rest of your life. “Your heart is so trite and so innocent while your flimsy blue gown’s tied around you, around curves so comely and sinister,” she sings in “Pretty Girls.” Then she reveals what she’s all worked up about: “They blame it on you pretty girls.” Alec Hanley Bemis – LA WEEKLY