The drummer looks like a skinhead. A good sign. The singer/guitar player’s wearing a Gatordate t-shirt. A little wholesome, but it’s properly faded. One keyboard player’s black t-shirt and shoulder-length hair are standard issue rock ‘n’ roll uniform, so he could play for any band, but the other keyboard player tells you what you need to know about Testaverde.

With his hair carefully pulled back into a short ponytail and his wire-rimmed glasses, it’s clear he and the rest of the band are high school band guys gone bad. Once you make that connection, you notice the studious look on the guitar player’s face as he plays all those intricate little non-blues riffs with perfect technique and sings in a British-y accent about aging (definitely) and free will (I think). The two keyboard set-up suggests new wave, but Testaverde’s much cooler than that—they’re prog rock.

What separates Testaverde from their modern prog heritage—Rush, King’s X, Queensryche—is their conciseness. While progressive bands are noted for their length and indulgence, at a recent show at Tipitina’s they kept every song under three-and-a-half minutes with the exception for the one temporarily interrupted by Jo “Cool” Davis, who came on stage to warn the crowd that the car parked in the driveway next door was about to be towed. Like surf, their instrumentals were hard, tight statements of a theme, though unlike surf, there were no solos. Instead, there were movements or sections, but eventually they returned to the theme, which was usually stated on guitar by Joe Bostick and accompanied by an appropriately mellotronish keyboard sound by either Jack Porobil or Joey Keppel (I couldn’t tell what keyboard was doing what). Like surf, which is as weirdly relevant a reference here as prog, the drums are central to the sound. Rather than try like Bill Bruford to insinuate jazz chops into his oddball time signatures, drummer Jeff McAcy hits and pounds, making the whole thing more physical than a lot of progressive rock.

Because this weird prog/pop/surf sounds so intentional, Testaverde must be taken seriously. After all, they’ve worked for two years and with at least three line-ups to make their music sound like this, and on stage, they go about their business with a sobriety that tells you they’ll never adopt a superfluous umlaut. This month they’re going into the studio to record their first album, and they are opening for Trans Am at the Howlin’ Wolf Friday, September 8.

 

DEMO-NSTRATlONS AND DEMO-LITIONS

Demos, self-burned CDs and mp3s cross our transom like chased mice, but unlike mice, they’re welcome. Here are some recent arrivals:

Amerigo: Amerigo—Late Led Zep ballads? Mid-tempo Radiohead? Certainly something sort of artsy, but this three song EP is attractive and promising. Wonder what they’re like live?

The Becoming Orange: The Crush EP—Green Day comparisons would be misleading; this punky EP is even poppier than that. This Baton Rouge band sounds like an angry Backstreet Boy. They sound like they could rock, though distortion on disc can be deceiving.

Focus 21: Temple Songs—Boy, would these songs benefit from a singer. This promising four-song disc features well-produced modern rock songs (the 106.7 variety) that are instrumentals more because of a lack of vocals than because the songs need to be instrumentals. Interesting, but more interesting with a vocalist.

Squint: Beeker—Actually, Beeker is a full album by this Ruston band (who knew such a thing existed?) but since it came out in 1998, it doesn’t really fit in the record review section. Still, it merits comment because Squint executes the rock/ska combo with more guts than most of the current entries out there, and they definitely sound like fun live. A good sign: I could remember a chorus after one listen. Shame the mail from North Louisiana to New Orleans is so slow.

 

OTHER STUFF

I tried to take Rhino Records’ Musical Aptitude Test online but was shut out by the overwhelmed server and received a John Cale CD by way of apology. Mark Miester, the former occupant of this space, not only got in but won the whole damned thing and every Rhino release for life in the process. Learn from this story what you will.

Big, gushy kisses to Laura Ferrara for staying with Underground Sounds for as long as she did. It’s sad to drive by its Magazine Street location and see the windows empty. Now where will I look to see the latest in zany band-name trends?

Similar salutes to Jack Groetsch, who announced last month that the Howlin’ Wolf is for sale. The Wolf has been my favorite place to see live music for quite a while, and while no one should be condemned to life in the bar biz, his presence at the Wolf will be missed.

Rumors of Blackula’s demise are true; however, as is only appropriate, some semblance of the band will rise again. Singer/c1ogger (how many other cities can claim a guy with talents like that?) Brooke Lamm is forming a new band. More as more is known.

 

UPCOMING SHOWS

Dave Alvin is at the Howlin’ Wolf September 22. Quite simply, no one does roots rock better than Alvin. As a guitar player he burns, as a singer he’s passionate, and as a writer he’s a great storyteller. He always has good bands, and while he has a good sense of humor, he also risks the kind of un-ironic commitment to his songs too many roots bands find it hard to muster.

Yo La Tengo is at the Wolf September 27. Okay, they’re an art band (a lot more discussions of art music this month than I expected), but who knows what art band will show up? The first time I saw them, they brought the noise; the second time I saw them, they raved up and extended every song to annoy the uninterested Juliana Hatfield crowd; the third time I saw them, they played a set so low-key I worried someone on stage had passed out without anyone noticing; then the last time I saw them (yes, four times so far) Ira Kaplan put on a Thurston Moore-ish feedback clinic. The new album, And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-out, suggests this might be a show of lullabies, but the last album didn’t promise the guitar show we got, so who knows?

The Candy Snatchers are at the Mermaid Lounge September 28. Deborah Devil Doll tells me they sound like American punk a la Dead Boys circa 1978, which sounds just fine to me.

 

METAIRIE NIGHT AT THE HOUSE OF BLUES PARISH

What could be more appropriate than a night of Jeff Parish bands in the HOB’s Parish? Howie from the Rock & Bock has booked a night of modern rock including Focus 21 and Overtone, both of whom are mentioned either here or in the record review section. Rumor has it Focus 21 has a singer by now.

If you have news or info I ought to know about, write me at [email protected].