Would it be weird to compare Bully in the Hallway to a twinkie? Because that’s what I’m about to do. If you’re familiar with that sweet treat, then the cakey outer shell is the Chicago band’s uber-melodic and accessible take on the Fugazi-like freneticism, and the creamy inner filling is their penchant for arena-rock hooks and jagged guitar work. Then when working in unison, it’s pretty damned delicious.

It’s hard to deny how effortless it sounds for Bully in the Hallway to bring such a raucous rock style to a level of maturity. Most of their songs race along at a high tempo, but the harmonies are clear and accented and never feel amateurish or immature.

Take “Golden Bones” for example. It rips ahead at a furious pace that’s part punk guitar bounce but easily digestible. The song then carves out an anthemic chorus that’s just ripe for a crowd singalong.

In fact, that maybe one of Bully In The Hallway’s strongest assets. They have a real knack for the catchy when it comes to constructing a chorus. “Life Is Money” offers a simple refrain of “Don’t spend in one place/ Don’t spend it all,” that still fits even though it’s encased in driving, Mission Of Burma-styled riffs.

“You Got Me!” is an instant highlight with its deep, galloping drums before vocalist Matt Simon enter with a take on a frantic David Byrne delivery, and “Magnanimous Corpses” powers along with crooked riffs and a staccato, shouted chorus that’s head-bang ready. But not every track is a high powered attack as “Walk of Shame” showcases the band’s tongue and cheek side with an Americana swing and a flare for the dramatic.

With Crooks and their Castles, Bully in the Hallway manage to craft a version of melodic punk and hardcore while not letting their love of alternative rock and big hooks go to the wayside. And instead, they combine them for a record that’s equally fun as it is energetic.

Purchase the digital version of Crooks and their Castles at Bully in the Hallway’s Bandcamp.

LISTEN: Bully in the Hallway – “Life is money”

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BULLY IN THE HALLWAY
9:00 p.m. Friday, January 6
Subterranean, 2011 W. North Ave Ave.
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The Paver’s newest EP Bad News has all the noir qualities of a Frank Miller story—disillusionment, negativity, angst. Even the record’s cover, a black-and-white photo of core band members Billie Howard and Jesse Giallombardo standing ominously in front of an old station wagon, has a larger-than-life, comic-book-pane-quality to it. It’s fitting given how richly illustrated their sound is.

Bad News is a wash of punk, metal, post-rock, goth, baroque pop, and even chiptune. That’s not to say it isn’t cohesive; a strong sense of darkness and anger sizzle on each track. But to crucify this music to one genre is nearly impossible.

Take opener and record highlight “Why” (listen below). It begins with a classic, chugging metal bass line followed by a torrent of screaming. But in the chorus Howard’s howl morphs into rising, operatic refrain that’s just as catchy as it is unexpected.

Both the succeeding songs have organ tones that would be at home in a Castlevania game. “Hush,” ironically, is an interesting blend of punk yelling and metal screaming that reminds me of a weekend home with my parents. “Everyone Knows You’re A Bore,” another stand-out track sung by Giallombardo, features a baroque, sea-shanty-style repetition of the song’s title that digs itself into memory.

The concluding tracks “Leaves and Rust,” a blender-full of distorted bass and shredding strings, and “Copper Mine,” another Giallombardo dredge-fest, explore similar territory. “Copper Mine,” in particular, introduces some eerie, gothic elements yet again making The Paver a hard band to nail down and Bad News a sort of amorphous, shifting monster. Its features might be hard to discern but the fangs and claws are apparent.

The Paver —Why?

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THE PAVER
9:00 p.m. Friday, December 2 (Record Release)
Panchos, 2200 N. California Ave.
21+. $5 to $7.
Tickets available at Ticketweb.com.
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While some bands mature in the lyrical sense or through the mood of their music, The Gorilla Press seem to have matured sonically on their sophomore effort, A Natural Thing (Unnatural To Me). That’s not to say the band has lost a sense of adventure, but rather the Chicago outfit have moved past the solid exercise in mid ’90s alt-rock that was their 2008 debut. A Natural Thing instead finds the band crafting a rich and layered melodic palette that aims equally for freshness and familiarity.

One thing for sure is that The Gorilla Press aren’t afraid to wear their influences on their sleeves. A Natural Thing is riddled with references from grungers Pearl Jam and Silverchair to moody The Bends-era Radiohead to the tenderness of The Decemberists. But what The Gorilla Press do differently is take those bit and pieces from their influence pile and piece them in a way that’s hardly derivative.

“On Fire” opens with a frantic urgency before finding sturdy footing among a bubbling rhythm. Later the song opens up into a melodic starburst that begs for choral support. It’s that type of shaping – bringing an expansive Arcade Fire-like vocal cue and inserting it at the end of a ragged rocker – that The Gorilla Press do so well.

The band show off their ability to groove with the ghostly funk of “Kneejerk,” while “Possibilities” finds the band going for fuzzy garage rock but the riffs are clear and not jumbled.

They also aren’t afraid of dabbling in more epic-like territory with the two-parted “Whale In The Sea.” Beginning with some melancholy dream pop that rises among delay swells, “Part 1″ gives way to the more aggressive “Part 2,” which offers dark keyboard strikes, a gritty double guitar breakdown and vocalist Chris Kang’s scratchy snarl.

Not only has the band matured musically, but they have never sounded as confident as they do on A Natural Thing. The result is a record that finds The Gorilla Press at their most comfortable while still not afraid of coloring outside the lines.

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THE GORILLA PRESS
9:00 p.m. Thursday, December 1 (Record Release)
Schubas, 3159 N. Southport
18+. $8.
Tickets available at Schubas.com.
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Anatomy of Habit’s self-titled debut might be the most un-metal metal album I’ve heard. In fact, calling it metal is probably a stretch. What it is, however, is a dark, moody and often haunting record that culls together a variety of sounds of the psychedelic, ambient and industrial sort. And that unwillingness to be boxed into a particular genre or any kind of strict categorization works to make Anatomy of Habit a bold and compelling debut.

A warning for fans of the four-minute single: You won’t find any here. No, Anatomy of Habit‘s two tracks, “Overcome,” and “Torch,” are both over 15 minutes long and are obtuse and difficult on the surface. But further investigation reveals much more as vocalist Mark Solotroff’s (of Bloodyminded) terrifying croon slash spoken word weaves its way through a sea of noisy percussion and droning guitar work.

“Overcome” opens like a predator stalking its prey – slow but sly and careful. Solotroff’s monotonic vocals hover over the clinky rhythms and repetitive, warbling guitars. A slight variation that includes eerie guitar picking takes hold until shortly after six and a half minute mark as menacing, grinding riffs pummel for a short moment as if the predator attacks. But the piece simmers down shortly thereafter. Finally, the real build up begins with a scratchy, distorted seque that leads to the song’s prog-metal coda.

And speaking of animals, Anatomy of Habit‘s second piece, “Torch,” is a different one altogether. It begins with a bleak hum filled with abstract cymbal play, which takes on a terrifying feel as demented ramblings about flesh, sternum and lungs seeps in. The trudging tempo gets more power via slow-burn fuzzy guitars before the chugging metallic riffage finally takes center stage. The song eventually breaks down again into a cacophony of demonic howls and bone rattling beats.

Yes, Anatomy of Habit isn’t the year’s most sunny album. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. But the moody tension and and sense of horror the band creates is extremely impressive. There’s no doubt that Anatomy of Habit have crafted one of the year’s most intriguing debut LPs from a Chicago band.

Download Anatomy of Habit at the band’s Bandcamp.
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ANATOMY OF HABIT
10:00 p.m. Saturday, December 3
Lincoln Hall, 2424 N Lincoln Ave
18+. $13 advance/$15 at the door.
Tickets available at Lincolnhallchicago.com.
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Indie bands using the studio as an instrument is typical fare these days. Most of the time with results range from noisy to spacey to danecy and just plain poppy. Yet on Loyal Divide’s full-length debut, Bodice Ripper, the Chicago outift injects a soulfulness into the digital sphere with punchy synthesized grooves.

Bodice Ripper is an outlier in the electro-pop/psych/whatever genre that usually references buzz bands like Animal Collective or Yeasayer. Loyal Divide go for a decidedly different approach by instead leaning on jazzy and more funk-like tendencies.

That’s why the distorted trumpet solo in the middle of “Perv Fury” fits without feeling pretentious, or why the bouncy bass of “Vision Vision” is so hypnotic.

There’s also a sci-fi element at work on a few tracks. The bleak future of Blade Runner is certainly tapped as inspiration for the droning “DDF,” and the abrasive, staticy guitars that interrupt the earthy percussion of “Baladron” give the track a cinematic feel.

However, the record does have its fair share of genuine pop moments. “Young Blades” seamlessly fits thumping samples and Beatles-esque harmonies together. And one of the album’s biggest highlights comes in the smooth, R&B-influenced ballad, “Flights.”

On Bodice Ripper, Loyal Divide prove that they aren’t cut from that same, nearly worn out psych-pop cloth. Instead, they utilize a fascinating rhythmic approach that covers bleak to bombastic to beautiful, which makes for a mighty impressive debut.

Purchase Bodice Ripper at Loyaldividemusic.com.

Loyal Divide -- “Vision Vision”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeL4qz-d1c0

On Empros, Russian Circles trim the fat. And in this case, the fat for the Chicago prog-metal outfit is their tendency indulge in a more melodic, more indie rock driven side. Instead, the band plays to their strengths on the record, those being the ability to crush and pummel with a force that’s rarely heard from a power trio.

It’s fitting that since heavy metal has a “Big 4,” Chicago has an instrumental progressive metal big two: Pelican and Russian Circle. The latter burst on to the scene with their 2006 debut, Enter, that featured metal antics with an indie edge that wasn’t bloated. The band got especially moody on their 2009 release, Geneva, that took much more from post-rockers and did tend to falter a bit in its pacing.

But Empros certainly finds the band reclaiming their metallic roots. The first minute and thirty seconds of album opener, “309,” would not sound out of place on Mastodon’s latest with its bone cracking beat and wicked guitar crunch. The song then shifts suddenly to a more mechanical groove – something that Russian Circles have gotten quite well at doing – but this groove is decidedly darker with sinister riff swells and a trudging head-bang breakdown.

And that leads to maybe the most impressive aspect of Russian Circles, their ability to change moods quickly and seamlessly. While “Mladek” opens with hopeful airy riff play, it shifts to a cavernous rhythm section under spacey guitars.

Empros does indeed find Russian Circles digging deep into their metal consciousness for riffage that would make Tool and/or Metallica proud. But the album does have well conceived moments that won’t piss off your neighbors. “Schipol” is the closest thing Russian Circles will ever get to a ballad with lush guitar picking and harmonic feedback. That is until 3/4 of the way through when a wall of distortion encompasses the song to give it an ominous feel that’s not unlike the opening notes of the overture of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s classic The Phantom of the Opera.

The band even get in touch with their artier and maybe even folkier side with album closer “Praise Be Man.” It begins with a staticy introduction before revealing a a simple guitar line over muffled vocals. Later, a fuzzed out bass takes over and pushes the song to its hypnotic two-note conclusion.

After three pretty good releases, Russian Circles sound like they’ve finally found the perfect balance between melodic and menacing on Empros. But the fortunate thing is that the menacing moments are by far their most destructive, which makes this record their best yet.

Buy and/or Stream Empros at Russian Circles’ Bandcamp.
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RUSSIAN CIRCLES
10:00 p.m. Saturday, December 3
Lincoln Hall, 2424 N Lincoln Ave
18+. $13 advance/$15 at the door.
Tickets available at Lincolnhallchicago.com.
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To say that the scratchy, lo-fi aesthetic has been done before would probably be an understatement. These days garage, psychedelic and pop rock bands willingly trade crystal clear for rough around the edges. And while Heavy Times indeed indulges in similar production values on Jacker, they bring a real freshness to the table in a raw and urgent punk energy.

It’s obvious that Heavy Times aren’t your every day DIY indie rockers on Jacker as the opening snare hit of “Motionless Drift” cracks like a baseball bat against a zombie’s skill.

The Chicago quartet offers a certain darkness to their music. It isn’t so much frightening as it is edgy. Underneath the sonic grit, Heavy Times take more from the hardcore punk side of the coin than the flower punk one.

That’s not to say the music lacks melody. Guitars often emit a rubbery thickness that as times could easily be identified as surf, but the riffage on cuts like “Erase The Sun” and “Polar Moon” is far more acidic and menacing.

And those that long for a Misfits-like horror, Heavy Times happily take up the flame with the frenzied rager “Suicide Rider,” the garagey chug-a-long “Skull Hair,” or the demonic howls on “Cemetary Hospital.”

Not every song is a revved up rocker, however. The slow middle-school-science-video synth of “Future City” is the perfect foil for the song’s rapid rhythm and is a highlight along with the woozy low end of “Memory Dump”

With Jacker, Heavy Times prove that the lo-fi aesthetic can be shaped to give their brand of melodic punk an even bigger bite. And when that bite works in harmony with their frantic energy and sinister attitude, it makes for one devilishly good combination.

Heavy Times – “Skull hair”

Order Heavy Times’ Jacker LP at HoZacRecords.com
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HEAVY TIMES
9:30 p.m. Tuesday, November 22
Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western Ave.
21+. Free with RSVP or $10.
Tickets available at Ticketweb.com.
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Dastardly's Gabe Liebowitz & August Sheeny (Photo by Audrey Leon)

Wanting to break away from the more traditional concert experience, Dastardly took the room back to the days where wholesome, downhome country fun came via variety shows like Hee-Haw and the Grand Ole Opry. Of course, the night’s festivities were anything but as the mix of comics and musicians threw decency to the wind to the delight of many in the room.

The Hideout’s stage was lit with its familiar Christmas lights and decorated with oversized fake cacti. The host – Dickie Phipps (portrayed by Chad Briggs), donning a unruly black wig in the style of Roy Clark – introduced Dastardly as they kicked off the first act with “Rose Marie.”

The group’s energy never let up, even with all the bizarre happenings going on around them. First, there was the comic (Joe Fernandez) whose fiance had left him prior to the show. His wavering voice – always on the verge of a sob – hussled guffaws from the crowd as he squeaked out his routine. Then there was piano prodigy Chris Condren who struggled with his Yamaha keyboard, playing bad synthesizer compositions including a cover of “I won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty that he introduced as a song “about a rapist.”

The show’s catastrophic highlights are too many to name, but the fight between banjo/guitar player Joe Rauen and a heckler who was wrapped from head to toe in garbage bags was certainly memorable. The man burst in, claiming the members of Dastardly were the Illuminati responsible for many things including Lady Gaga. Clearly having had enough, Rauen grabbed a piece of fake cactus and battered the man with it until the entire band chased him from the room, signaling the end of act one.

The second act began with Dastardly’s ode to Missouri, with such Chicago crowd-pleasing lyrics as, “Missouri, you’re a cold and miserable fucker.” But then all hell broke loose as “children’s act” Ruby Weapon jumped on stage.

The group’s electro-hip-hop-dance song was an ode to female genitalia that would have made Prince blush. Quip of the night goes to host Dickie Phipps: “Can we agree that that just happened to us? There aren’t any counselors on hand. Let’s just form a prayer circle outside to cleanse the room.”

Patsy Cline and Katy Perry (Photo by Audrey Leon)

Saving the best guest for last, Dastardly was joined on stage by the ghost of Patsy Cline. The band’s rendition of “Crazy” was soon interrupted by Katy Perry, who dusted the stage with glitter while wearing a bra made of lollipops. The brawl that ensued between the two musical stars (portrayed by the Puterbaugh Sisters) ended with Cline emerging victoriously, covered in Perry’s glitter-filled blood. And Dastardly did the only thing a band could do in this situation – end the night with one more song, this one entitled “Jews Don’t Go to Heaven.”

On a night where nothing (appeared to) go right, Dastardly emerged as the voice of reason, playing each song during its two sets with full-on angst and passion, as if they members’ very own lives depended on redeeming the night. And redeem it, they did. Dastardly’s revue truly ended with a hoedown (Perry) and it was spectacular.
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Enjoy some video highlights from the night below:

Dastardly performing “Fever” (video by Audrey Leon)

Dastardly brawls with heckler (video by Audrey Leon)

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Mannequin Men’s new self-titled album is a stew of all sorts of lo-fi, punk, and psychedelic rock mashed into one tasty Mannequin Men-shaped bowl.

You’ll hear influences from all across the history of rock, psychedelic, and punk. So many in fact that it might make you think you have Alzheimer’s when you can’t figure out what you think you’re hearing right away. This mystery of “I can’t quite put my finger on what this sounds like, but I like it” gives these songs more depth. It also proves to the listener that Mannequin Men didn’t just churn out 13 songs for shits and giggles, but they tried to explore the uncharted territory.

On “Enough” the vocals have less distortion and a tone unique to that song which results in a crisp sound from Kevin Richards that makes him sound slightly like Mick Jagger. This device is only utilized on “Enough,” however, and this personal energy created for each song is what separates the Mannequin Men from their rock revival competitors. You can feel that each song is a magic spell with specific feelings and stories attached to it and that the band puts their whole soul into it when playing.

The strongest parts of the album are the darker more melancholy songs. These ten or so tracks are almost nostalgic in their overall sound, feeling, and lyrics. “Cheryl Tiegs” does this well with both the post-punky rhythm guitar, and again when the band gets intimate to just the drums and infectiously catchy line repeated throughout, “baby I’ve been bad.” And though a few songs rely on the standard Brian Jonestown Massacre style four chord psych-rock song structure, it’s their catchiness that shines.

As many would have expected, the vocal melodies and harmonies on this album are filled with hooks comparable to Guided by Voices’ on Alien Lanes or Bee Thousand, except without the ADHD of thirty second songs, and Tourette’s style songwriting about nonsense and gibberish. The result makes you want to sing along but also leaves you a bit affected after listening.

Though certain lyrics seem mundane like in “Flying Bird,” “flying blind and I got nothing on my mind/but that’s a conversation for some other time/you should think it over/you should really think it over” don’t look like much in writing it’s the way the words come out that make it special.

Mannequin Men do this like a country singers who are finding the perfect place to fit that awkward twang in their voice a tool to bring more depth to the songs. This technique takes you beyond the hard partying rock band aesthetic and brings the emotional appeal of the songs to their fullest capacity.

Whether Mannequin Men meant to or not, this so called “mature record” of theirs is probably their best, and that’s a hurdle that many bands who start young simply fall flat on their face trying to jump.

LISTEN: Mannequin Men – “Hobby Girl”

Mannequin Men will be released on Tuesday, November 8, on Chicago’s Addenda Records.
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MANNEQUIN MEN
9:00 p.m. Saturday, October 29
Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western Ave.
21+. $10.
Tickets available at Ticketweb.com.
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With a Regina Spektor playfulness and a blues rock core, Lying Delilah go for the gusto with cinematic flair. And on the Chicago trio’s new EP, Return the Love, the combination of rambunctious organ, fat low end, prog rock rhythms and singer Jodi Rosenthal’s sultry vocals is equal parts whimsical and soulful.

While the concept isn’t exactly ground breaking, Lying Delilah prove that they’re more than the girl-with-piano-has-a-band-and-plays-pretty-stuff stereotype. The songs on Return are dense and structured in a classic rock style with jammed out codas and quirky breakdowns.

“Take Me Home” dances along with a dirty organ groove courtesy of Mike Maimone of Chicago rockers Mutts, and bassist Steve Pesich brings forth his inner Flea with an uber-funky bass line on “Magic Man.” What starts as a slow burning and sour lament, “Crybaby” descends into an angry climax. “Grey & Cold” find Delilah heading into power pop territory until Andrew Dumaresq revs up the tempo with cheery cymbal play.

But the EP’s biggest highlight comes in the form of opener and title track, “Return The Love,” which features a tip-toe string arrangement that gives way to bouncy, cabaret-like moments.

Lying Delilah manage to finely balance a singer-songwriter sound with a full band feel, which works to make Return the Love a modern pop delicacy.

Lying Delilah -- “Return the Love”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVxX90swH88

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LYING DELILAH
9:00 p.m. Saturday, October 8
Martyrs, 3855 N. Lincoln Ave
21+. $15.
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