A Place to Bury Strangers

A Place to Bury Strangers

Wailin Storms, Maple Stave, Lacy Jags

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Doors: 7:00 pm / Show: 8:00 pm

$12.00

Tickets at the Door

A Place to Bury Strangers
A Place to Bury Strangers
"That's the most intense fear and feeling--when you go to a show and you're actually scared," says Oliver Ackermann, guitarist and frontman of Brooklyn trio A Place To Bury Strangers.
"Or you can palpably feel the danger in the music," adds bassit Dion Lunadon, "Like it's going to fall apart at any moment and the players doing it are so in the moment they don't give a shit about anything else. They're just going for it. It's a gutter kinda vibe; everything about it is icky and evil and dangerous."
The band are currently working on their 5th album with an eye toward a fall release.   Rather than fixate on the minute recording details like they may have done in the past, the group, rounded out by drummer Lia Simone are trusting their instincts and trying to keep things as pure as possible. Music is much more exhilarating when it's unpredictable even on repeat plays. Simone makes her recording debut with the band here, and it's obvious that she’s helped pushed the band's recordings closer to the level of their infamous live shows.
Wailin Storms
Wailin Storms
Originally formed in the unrelenting heat of Corpus Christi, Texas, WAILIN STORMS migrated east and ended up in Durham, North Carolina. Their sound is justly a mix of doom-punk and swampy rock, as elements of their prior and current surroundings culminate into a unique and volatile brew. Stamped with eerily dark and ominous vocal elements reminiscent of bluesy masters like Howlin’ Wolf and Samhain with emotive nods to Destruction Unit, Bauhaus, and Jesus Lizard, the band’s output is incessantly passionate and harrowing in its entirety.
Maple Stave
Maple Stave
In downtown Durham on a recent sunny Saturday afternoon, the usual business of the bar The Federal idled. A couple leaned in close to chat at an outdoor table, hiding away from a motorcycle's passing blare. The tune of Alan Jackson's ode to making music, "Chasin' That Neon Rainbow," drifted onto the patio from some distant stereo. Seated on two benches parallel to one of the bar's long, brown picnic tables, though, the band Maple Stave fretted, noticeably uncomfortable and unfamiliar with the situation.

"What a great question," said Andy Hull, one of the trio's two baritone guitarists, flatly after a pregnant pause. Everyone laughed with a moment of relief until the drummer, Evan Rowe, sighed and continued. "We're not good at good questions. We've got a list of things we're not good at."

Maple Stave has been a band since 2003; across three EPs and a handful of tours, they've steadily ratcheted the tension and muscle of their maneuverable math rock. From the outset, they seemed a band with a good idea of how they wanted to sound—that is, a fiery mix of Midwestern indie rock titans like Shellac, Slint and Shipping News. Over the last seven years, they've just gotten better at sounding that way by adding nuance and new twists. Those baritone guitars allow for swiveling lows and muscular highs; Rowe, a former marching band drummer, is a mathematical dynamo. Now, though, out here on the patio, Maple Stave is stuck trying to explain the variety and movement of its first LP, Like Rain Freezing and Thawing Between Bricks Year After Year, This House Will Come Down—or, more conveniently, LP1. As a band, they're better than ever before on this album. As analysts of their own music, they still struggle.

"I'm going to end up talking now and then stop talking, without actually making a point here probably," Chris Williams, the band's other baritone guitarist and songwriter, offers sheepishly. The band laughs again, but he presses ahead. "Somehow, all the songs—no, actually, that's it. I don't know where I was going with that. I'm going to go to sleep."

Part of the problem seems to be that Maple Stave isn't used to talking about the songs as a band. Friends for a decade who've been in each other's weddings and stood by as kids have been born and as relationships have bloomed and fallen apart, Hull, Rowe and Williams agree that they understand each others' lives. When an angry new song surfaces in the practice room, they don't have to talk about what it means.

"You can definitely tell where people are coming from," says Hull. "I think it's great that we can do that, that we're friends in that way."

"It's shit that happens to us, and it gets turned into songs. There's a lot of weird desperation and unhappiness on this record, but not hopeless unhappiness," Rowe—at 34, the oldest of the three—says, finally finding a thread in the album.

They don't need to speak, really: On LP1, those experiences translate into 40 minutes that exude action. During "SCOTT!," Williams hurls invectives and orders above a march as precise as the military, his damaged, buried howl the perfect foil for the band's Teutonic clip. "Cole Trickle" is breathless and anxious, musical mimesis of an instant where something has to happen if you're going to survive. "If They Are Brave, They Will Fight" seizes on the sort of glory and grandeur that made Explosions in the Sky famous, except it understates its climax, teasing expectations of conquest with what feels like a quiet escape into defeat.

"This record feels more desperate," says Rowe. "In a way."

Across the table, Hull looks up, smiles and quips: "Now don't oversell it."

And, again, they all laugh.
Venue Information:
Local 506
506 W. Franklin St
Chapel Hill, NC, 27516
http://www.local506.com/