The crowd that showed up on Tuesday at the Crocodile was a mix of new Belltowners and old rock fellows older and more jaded than myself. The gentrifiers were there “just to see some music” while the old rock guys were there to see Polvo. There were people wearing Birkenstock sandals with no socks. One gentleman was overheard saying “I remember seeing Screaming Trees at…” I would peg half the crowd as Built to Spill fans (but maybe they gave up on going to shows after the early stuff). The collared shirts mixed with the scruffy characters and the ironic mustaches preened next to the girls in heeled shoes. For each person, the experience of the evening was undoubtedly new.

Music is constantly at a crossroads of innovation versus tradition. Polvo and Bronze Fawn represent two bands that have taken steps away from popular music traditions and, in Polvo’s case, even defined their own genres. However, when contrasted against Bronze Fawn’s beautiful and emotional compositions, the Polvo songs sounded old and tired. They may have forged the paths that many bands have followed, but they seem stuck at the beginning.

Bronze Fawn had the task of repopulating the room after the first act explored the fine line between chaos and the inability to play. (I tried playing the drums on Rock Band without looking at the screen once. It cleared the room, as well.) However, by the end of their set, a few people were enthusiastic about their sound.

Bronze Fawn is an instrumental band specializing in sweeping and exquisite compositions. Their contrasting dynamics and rhythmic eccentricities craft these perfect landscape painting songs. Achingly beautiful at times and an avalanche of intensity at others. You could picture these songs as a soundtrack to a movie, but you don’t need to because Bronze Fawn is a four piece band. Drums, guitar, bass, and video. Each show, a projector is set up and videos are edited on the spot that correspond with the songs. I’m a particular fan of the Eskimo video and the amazing guitar melody that accompanies it.

Just at the end of their set, the bassist self-effacingly said “Just two more and then the band you’re here to see.” An audience member retorted, “We’re here to see you!” I think Bronze Fawn gained a few fans, particularly after their amazing last song. So powerful and emotional and hectic that another audience member was given to a frat-boy-style “Woo!” after it ended. I, for one, am particularly excited about their new album when it gets released.

My new experience of the evening was Polvo . Having never heard a single Polvo song before the evening, I had only the expectations of others to go on. They are widely touted as the originators of the math rock genre, known for its occasionally abrasive use of music theory. If you can’t count past four, it’s sometimes difficult to follow math rock songs. It’s difficult when you can, even. So, being a great fan of the later math rock bands like Don Caballero, I had high expectations.

There was quite a delay before the onset of the Polvo experience due to some technical difficulties with an amp. This gave the room ample time to fill the rest of the way up. As the old rockers and the new young professionals intermingled, my expectations grew. Polvo made their entrance at the perfect moment in the Don Caballero’s “American Don” album that was playing over the P.A. Just after the abrupt end of a particularly exciting song, four mid-’90s indie rock guys stroll onto the stage and proceed to play.

Perhaps it was just my impossibly high expectations, but the first half of the set was rather standard. Okay, their guitars are distorted and they play chords that are relatively non-standard, but I was expecting magic. The vocals are of the standard “mumble and be sullen” variety, quietly sung and impossible to hear if you get too close to the stage and wander under the main speakers. So quiet, that when the vocalists guitar cut out when he tried it between songs, you could hear the sound of the pick against the strings through the microphone ten feet away.

As the night progressed, I started hearing the precursors of all the math rock tricks like tapped guitars and drum parts that required the drummer to mouth the words “one, two, three, four, five” several times, but the songs were still relatively straightforward. Their most experimental moments came between songs when the guitarists played some noodly bits that, at times, sounded like two different songs at once. It was like everything was safe and easy. Tame, even.

I think that Polvo might have been revolutionary in their time, but that time might have passed. Their strange guitar riffs and whispered vocals just don’t challenge us enough. We’re getting old and jaded with all this new and exciting music coming out and we want to be surprised again. These days, Polvo is only just “okay.”

PS: For those of us that grew up in the music scene in Seattle, the Crocodile can be an off-putting experience these days. I’m used to the old, dirty, and just barely functioning venues. The new Crocodile (not Cafe), with it’s beautifully remodeled bathrooms and carefully framed show posters makes me want to break things or make a paper-mâché crocodile and hang it from the ceiling. It just seems so…corporate. And the sound is variable if you get too close to the stage or too far from the sound booth.

In the early ’80s, a genre of music was born on the East coast that probably boggles most people’s minds. The unlikely and mostly unwilling founding father of the movement was the lead singer of a band called Minor Threat, Ian McKaye. The movement: straightedge hardcore. You can read about it on
Wikipedia
, but here’s my naive and shallow take on it.

The straightedge scene is built on a foundation of serious political ideals. Namely, no drinking, no smoking, no drugs, and be pissed off about it. Bands on the east coast sprung up that boasted a black X on the back of both hands, a carryover from bar shows that used this to signify someone who was not allowed to buy alcohol at the bar. These bands were called things like “Chain of Strength” or “Judge” or “Youth of Today” and were on hardcore labels like Revelation or Victory. The scene has a reputation for it’s violent style of dancing, aggressive and angry music, and intense feeling of community.

This community extended across the nation as the genre grew in popularity, eventually landing in the Northwest in the early 90s. The Northwest hardcore scene is as close as any, with its own style and bands. Northwest bands tend to be more metal influenced than punk influenced, with a high level of technical prowess and a propensity for loudness and dark tones. A few of those early bands played last night at a massive reunion show at
El Corazon
.

As a kid in the early ’90s, I lived a pretty sheltered childhood an did not get a chance to see any of these bands live. Plus, I was enamored with East Bay pop punk, despite my straightedge tendencies. I always found it more fulfilling to yell about girls instead of about making a stand for independence in a controlling society. Besides, those hardcore guys were just a little too hardcore.

The show started with three bands from the new generation of hardcore punk:
Touche Amore
,
Marginal Way
and
The Helm
. I missed Touche Amore, but the singer for Marginal Way claimed they were the “most genuine guys since the early ’90s,” which leads me to believe they are doing something interesting and not caring if anyone likes it. (They play tonight at Neumo’s, by the way.) While not straightedge, per se, the other two bands embodied the roots of the old movement in new ways.

Marginal Way have a fantastic name. Not only is it a great local reference, it has metaphorical value as well. They play solid punk-flavored hardcore, with tough but somewhat understandable vocals. The singer employs the “hardcore pacing” technique, which leaves their stage presence a little flat, but they are clearly sincere and provide an excellent survey of many hardcore styles. They throw in a couple metal guitar solos and a variety of tempos. The audience politely nodded their heads in rhythm. To be fair, I think the audience was pacing themselves.

The Helm brought a more guttural punch to the show. They paid homage to their roots in their between song banter (a popular punk feature at shows is to rest between sonic assaults by talking a lot) when the singer said “If it weren’t for Undertow, we wouldn’t be a band.” Yet, The Helm bring a much more brutal and chaotic approach to the hardcore sounds. Their sound is darker and the vocals are more like the roar of a lion than the dulcet tones that many pop-music listeners are used to.

Trying to understand what is being said is often nearly impossible, but you can tell he is angry about it. The crowd responded with more polite head nodding, despite the band’s best efforts at inciting that same feeling in the room. At the end of their set, they dedicated a song to Trial bassist Brian Redman who was recently lost in a tragic accident.

By this point in the evening, the community aspect of straightedge hardcore was prevalent. Everyone is super friendly, almost to excess. It seems necessary, since straightedgers are often outcast even from the outcasts for their political beliefs and hard line stance. Unfortunately, their preference for violence can often attract unsavory elements, with some hardcore crews even going so far as to form police-recognized gangs recently. However, the night was relatively drama free and the hardcore kids were looking out for one another, which should be the hardcore way.

Hardcore shows always mean a lot of bands. Luckily, they were all quite varied.
Balance of the World
were probably the band that stood out the most from their brothers. The vocals were much closer to how actual humans sound when they are yelling instead of how demons sound. There might have been some actual notes involved, as well. While Balance of the World were the band that least looked the part of hardcore, they had a respectful following in the audience. They were playing their first show in 14 years yet they sounded tight. (They’re at the Comet tonight if you are curious what hardcore sounds like when metal fans try it.)

Northwest hardcore included some bands from north of the border as well, including Sparkmarker and tonight’s guest,
Strain
. Of the eight bands that played, Strain and Undertow are the only two I own any records by. I bought Strain’s “Our End” EP because I could clearly identify my straightedge friend’s crooked gun-shaped hand on the cover. If my friend had been at the show tonight instead of eating sushi with his girlfriend, I would have enjoyed seeing his X tattoos in the air with all of the other Strain fans.

When the Vancouver band played their first notes, the crowd instantly woke up. During Balance of the World, there were a couple dancers, but when Strain started, there were many. They were a little disappointed that the band had to stop in the middle of the first song to fix a broken bass drum pedal, but they picked right back up again when the music started. Strain, for me, was what early ’90s hardcore was about. Chug chug chug SING ALONG PART chug chugga chugga FAST PART chug chug chug SING ALONG PART ad infinitum.

Though it was not the original lineup, the crowd still lost their minds a little bit. There was floor punching and stomping and flailing arms and judo kicks and people jumping on the backs of unsuspecting people at the front of the pit and a full-on circle pit. A hardcore mosh pit is a dangerous place for the uninitiated, Seattle. Be careful. Run counter-clockwise.

When the kid in the Youth of Today t-shirt patch jacket accidentally roundhouse kicked the big guy in the FSU sweatshirt in the face, there were a few tense moments. But this is hardcore and that is supposed to happen. It all ended in brotherly hugs while the chaos raged around them. And that, to me is what hardcore is about. All this violence and rage is tightly controlled, just like the chugs of the Strain guitars and the gruff vocals. There are rules in this chaos. There’s actually a pretty good
WikiHow
about it.

Between the Strain set and the next band, I heard a fan mention that this show was “CPR for their soul.” Fans had flown in from across the nation. The number of kids wearing Boston hardcore or Huntington Beach hardcore or other foreign shirts probably outnumbered the Seattle fans. At least in the pit. One fan was so bold as to mention that El Corazon was the best place for hardcore shows in Seattle. If only he had been here 15 years ago, he might lament the loss of better venues.

When the secret guest appeared on the stage, the chaos level rose to impossibly high levels. Tonight, modern hardcore giants,
Converge
, graced us with their presence. They had just played “down the street” at WaMu theatre with joke metal band Dethklok and metal gods Mastodon. Yet when they first started playing, the singer said, “Unbroken saved my life.” And in this scene, it is probably true.

Converge are insanely brutal. You can get some idea of how brutal by watching
this video
(the guy filming was right behind me and I think he caught me getting elbowed in the ear). Later on, I got back kicked in the hip as well. While the hardcore kids were singing along and losing their minds for Strain, they were going absolutely insane for Converge. Converge plays faster than most hardcore bands with guttural blasts of the rawest vocals you’ve ever heard over the top.

If you’re a nice person, and like the Dave Matthews Band or something, the music itself seems offensive. I think Slayer would be a little afraid. Yet under all of this hardcore angst and evil sounding horror are some pretty amazing lyrics of strength and conviction. Again, this is the best part of hardcore, this strength and this conviction. It is insanely frustrating to take a stand against a seemingly apathetic world and when looking closer at the genre, it is clear why they are so angry and why they stick together.

Only two bands left, getting tired yet? Well,
Unbroken
, from San Diego, claimed to have played their last show last night. A mix of styles involving the sing-along chants like Strain and the more metal influences like many of the other bands. After the brutal onslaught of Converge, Unbroken felt a little less powerful. The crowd was recovering from it’s bruises and the more structured hardcore sound seemed a little less painful. Yet, their surprise breakdowns and driving rhythms inspired more stage dives and plenty of sing alongs.

Unbroken and Strain have similar styles and are perfect examples of what ’90s hardcore sounded like. The big difference is the lack of chugging in Unbroken’s sound compared to Strain. They are both a fusion of punk and metal sounds with roughly screamed vocals over metal guitar riffs and tricks and a hard-hitting drummer, however. The crowd was still eating it up, but I didn’t fear for my life at the back of the pit (the best view is at the back of the pit for us short people). Again, here is
a video
that shows the main features of hardcore shows. Stage diving, singer putting the mic in the crowd so everyone can get involved, hardcore dancing in the pit, etc. Unbroken brought their best for their last show and Seattle appreciated it.

Every local band this evening mentioned the loss of Brian Redman to the community. Unbroken made a particularly poignant dedication to his memory. Since their guitarist committed suicide, they knew first hand of what it was like to lose a band member and a friend. They also have local ties, as bassist Rob Moran lives in Seattle and is involved with music projects locally.

Undertow
lit their krishna-scented incense and set up to play. I missed Undertow in the ’90s. I shared a math class with the guitarist and yet I still never made it out to an Undertow show. I knew a couple songs, but just never got into it. They have great sing along parts and a dark Northwest sound, but somehow I missed it. Of course, the band members went on to do good things for the scene. For example, John Pettibone is widely regarded as an influence to many. Yet when he said that “Unbroken and Undertow were the only bands that mattered in the ’90s,” and then took credit for starting the Northwest scene, I was a bit turned off.

Plus, he threw a half-full water bottle into the crowd which has left a wonderful little cut on my forehead.

Yet, as his Sam Kinison-esque perfectly sculpted growl and the big spaces and dark rumble of the band strikes up, I forgive him. I even got to finger point and sing along to the two songs I knew. Undertow uses great spaces and slower breakdowns, possibly inspired by the other Northwest scene that was happening around them at the time, but they throw in tempo changes that surprise you and a little bit of that chugga chugga that all the kids are going nuts for these days. And the crowd
kept dancing
after singing along to Strain, being destroyed by Converge, and pointing to the sky for Unbroken. Well after midnight. I would assume that even all the straightedge kids in the bar even got up out of their comfy drinking stool for one last look back at the glorious past of NW Hardcore.

As The Helm and Marginal Way would probably claim, the future of Northwest hardcore is just as bright. It’s a small, close-knit scene in the region these days, but great things are happening locally. There is still that strength and community. Straightedge is not nearly as prevalent (I think El Corazon did alright on the bar tab), but the hardcore spirit is still abundant and lurking in several venues, both mainstream and DIY, around town. Labels are still putting out hardcore and metal influenced records and the genre is constantly evolving around a common spirit of community. A spirit that I hope will never die.

Try to cut me down / Try to break my spirit / But you will not / Break me down!

Let me just get this out of the way: Grand Hallway are amazing. Every time Tomo Nakayama’s voice rings out over a crowd, that crowd is instantly smiling at the beauty of the world. The audience is inspired by the lush and changing instrumentation of the 8 piece band and their lilting and plaintive melodies. It’s like Grand Hallway breaks your heart and makes you feel awesome about it at the same time. I know that every time Tomo ends the set with a heartfelt “I spend most every night wondering how you are” that I end up telling my show-going companions that there is something in my eye. I mean, that must be why I’m smiling and crying at the same time, right?

Tomo was gracious enough to take a moment to answer some questions for the curious public. They’ll be celebrating the release of their new CD, Promenade, at the Fremont Abbey on September 17th. Ladies and gentlemen, this will be a special show, as Grand Hallway will be accompanied by the Seattle Rock Orchestra and a kid’s choir. It will likely be one of those shows that Seattle folk look back on and brag about being a part of. If you miss it, your friends will hold it over you for the rest of your music-loving life. However, if you’re not able to attend, they’ll be doing an in-store at Sonic Boom Ballard on the 19th.

How long have you guys been playing together?

Grand Hallway as a band has been together for a little more than 3 years. This current lineup has been together for about a year. I’ve known most of them for years, so it’s been a real natural progression, playing music with people we like. We’ve all been in many different bands, and we’ve always done our thing, but it’s only been fairly recently that we’ve received any sort of recognition.

Describe some of the instrumentation changes that the band has gone through since the beginning.

The emphasis with our lineup from day one has been multi-instrumentalists. Our practice space is kind of a mess. We literally have dozens of instruments to choose from, and anyone in the band can pick one up at any given time and try it out. It makes for a fun writing and recording process, but also kind of a logistical pain when it comes to presenting the songs live.

What is your goal as a band/musician? That is, what do you see as the future for the band in say, three years?

I think the dream of every musician is to make a living doing it, and I hope to be there in three years. I’d like to tour overseas at least once a year for the rest of my life.

Why did you choose the name Grand Hallway?

It was inspired by David Berman’s poem “If There Was A Book About This Hallway”. It’s about finding a story and meaning in a place of transience, and that’s how I view music, I guess. You have these brief moments of beauty and human connection that only last as long as a song goes on. And then I added the word “Grand” because it evokes a sense of timelessness and also because I thought “Hallway” by itself sounded stupid.

Of the shows you’ve played so far, what has been your favorite and why?

I honestly love playing music with these guys, no matter how many people are watching or how crappy the PA may be. We seem to find a way to have fun on stage. That being said, one of the more memorable shows for me was when we played on the day of my grandfather’s funeral. Over the course of our set, I went from being emotionally numb and closed off to being completely open. It was the most cathartic moment of my life, and I felt completely in tune with the music, and supported and carried by my bandmates.

If you could set up the perfect show for yourselves (no restrictions), who would play, where would it be, and when would it happen?

I’d like to do a traveling revue with Neil Young, Bjork, and Sam Cooke, and an opening trio of Todd Barry, Eddie Izzard, and Mitch Hedburg doing stand up comedy. We would play at the Budokan, Benaroya Hall, Carnegie Hall, and the Olympia in Paris.

What was the inspiration for the “I Go Camping on Mondays” YouTube video series?

That was a spur of the moment idea that Chris Zasche and I came up with. He had just bought a truck with a canopy in the back, and he wanted to take it out for a drive. It was mid-April and we figured it’d be warm enough to go camping, and it was, for the most part, except at night when it started snowing. We didn’t bring any camping gear, just a jar of pickles, a bottle of whiskey, and a camera. One of two things could arise from that combination, and luckily we ended up with the one that we could show in public. “I go camping on Mondays” is an expression of freedom, but it also means sometimes we have to sleep in random parking lots in the freezing cold.

You guys are going on tour in December, describe some of the logistics of taking an 8-piece “orchestra” on the road.

I honestly have no idea. It sort of feels like a high-wire act. We’re blessed with some awesomely generous friends who are willing to help us book shows and let us sleep on their floors and couches. We try to approach things one step at a time, and somehow it seems to turn out ok.

How much of the music derives from formal training and how much comes from self-teaching?

The level of formal training in the band is about 50/50. We have enough knowledge across the board to communicate in a common language, but there’s enough ignorance to allow us to approach it unconventionally, in a way that is interesting to us.

You’re writing more guitar songs these days, of the two — piano and guitar — which instrument do you prefer, and why?

My first instrument is the guitar, and I had reached a point where I had grown tired of it. Grand Hallway started as a musical challenge to myself to learn how to play piano. I felt I accomplished that with the first album, thus I no longer had to restrict myself to the piano. Once I went back to playing guitar, it felt fresh and exciting again. Now I feel comfortable going back and forth between the two, and I think the next album will be more balanced. Either that, or I’ll take up the harp or cello or something.

Tell me a bit about the Fremont Abbey show: was the orchestra and all of everything else your idea or did they approach you? What else can we expect from this show?

It was pure luck and synchronicity. A few months ago, our violinist Alina played with the Seattle Rock Orchestra in Jeremy Enigk’s show, and she had mentioned us to Scott Teske (who leads the SRO). He listened to us on our website and offered to collaborate. Luckily for us Shenandoah Davis is a fantastic arranger, so she and I worked together to transcribe the parts that Alina and Jaclyn wrote into a full score. There are upwards of 100 tracks on some of the songs on “Promenade”, so there were a lot of parts to choose from. And then somewhere along the line, one of us joked that we should get a kids choir, and Zasche happened to be friends with the music teacher of an elementary school. So we got the orchestra and the choir, and everything else fell into place. I still have no idea how it’ll all come together, but like I said, we take things one at a time, and trust that things will turn out alright. At the very least, you can expect to see upwards of 50 kids and adults in one room making a whole lot of noise together, which is something you don’t see every day.

How have you perceived the response to your upcoming record so far? Is it what you expected?

The record’s been really well received so far, and it seems like everyone has a different favorite song, which is great. The record’s kind of sprawling, genre-wise, and I’m glad people are listening with patient ears.

What do you think of the local music scene these days? What would you like to see changed, or what do you particularly like that is happening?

The Seattle music scene is really thriving right now. We are lucky in that we’re part of a solid community, not only of amazing bands like the Maldives, Widower, Sleepy Eyes of Death, Voyager One, and Shenandoah, but also bookers, sound engineers, graphic designers, and bartenders, many of who grew up together in the scene. So it’s awesome to see everyone kind of stepping up and hitting their stride at the same time. I’d like to see it continue to grow, and I hope it retains that sense of mutual respect and support.

What’s your favorite Grand Hallway song to play?

It depends on the mood of the band and the audience, but “Sirens” is always a fun one to play.

What do you want people to walk away from your shows talking about?

Not to sound trite or sentimental, but I really do hope people walk away from our shows feeling inspired to do what they love and to create something awesome in their own lives, be it music or art or a delicious omelette for breakfast.