Dame Satan

dame satan played its first show as a three-piece in july of 2004. at around the same time, they -- greg the romanian from pennsylvania, andrew the anglo-saxon from kentucky, and mike the pole from virginia -- recorded a demo cd at a small and inhospitable apartment in san francisco's mission district. its cover was stamped with the likeness of a tender lamb. shortly thereafter, brendan the irishman from virginia joined the band, gibson hollow-body slung across his back like a frontiersman's rifle. since then, the quartet has played many shows across the mighty state of california, at such reputed venues as bottom of the hill, cafe du nord, the hemlock tavern, 12 galaxies, the echo, spaceland, and old ironsides.
and now they have an album. recorded and mixed to tape in the living room of their large and comfortable home at the foot of potrero hill in summer and fall of 2005, ghost mansion, dame satan's debut full-length, is a worthy addition to the nebulous canon of the creepy folk jam. the soaring harmonies bouncing from rafter to cob-webbed rafter, the scraping of steel strings, the banjo's sharp cackle, the warm hum of an ancient blues guitar - they conjure up the sad haunted corners of a vast empty house where grim stories lurk untold and smoke curls from spectral pipes. gregory alexander gheorghiu sang and played banjo, acoustic six-string guitar, resonator guitar, wurlitzer, and shaker. andrew david lewin simmons sang and played bass, acoustic six-string guitar, classical guitar, and triangle. michael victory chopko sang and played acoustic six and twelve-string guitars, banjo, electric guitar, and tambourine. brendan fee mcgill sheehan sang and played electric guitar, acoustic twelve-string guitar, harmonica, and autoharp. bert garibay engineered the sessions. myles boisen mastered the final mixes at headless buddha mastering lab in oakland, california.

Or, The Whale

Or, the Whale is the band that if ever caught off guard by an onstage power outage would say, “Fuck it,” pull in tighter, and play and sing harder and louder than you’d hoped for in the first place.
Sure, the San Francisco-based band harbors seven members, so you could argue for strength in numbers. But writing off the impression that they inevitably leave isn’t so easy; with such a diverse group of musicians, there’s no shortage of skill and influence. Some members toured in punk bands, others played roots and funk music, and still another tested her pipes as a chamber music vocalist. At first glance, their histories seem random. But weave those experiences together and you get a sound you can feel.
Or, the Whale’s songs range from danceable, rhythm-charged country-rock ditties with swaggering bass lines and articulately stomped-out drums to indie pop-rock tunes with bopping piano, snapping drums, and loops of finger-plucked guitar that explode into electric riffs to add fuel to fervent vocals. Slow it down and throw in some four-part harmonies, vibrant organ passages, and rippling pedal steel, and songs escalate into thoughtful ballads.
When it comes down to it Or, the Whale’s music can fly spirited and boisterous or topple lonely and bereaved. Hell, sometimes it does all those things in one song. Stories of hope and longing emerge from soothing, stirring vocals and twangy rock instrumentation. The latest evidence of this is on their first full-length album, Light Poles and Pines.
At times, Light Poles and Pines is omnipotent and epic (“Life and Death at Sea”), painfully reflective (“Rope Don’t Break”), or both (“Fight Song”). On “Life and Death at Sea,” defeated, raspy lead vocals sink under a whining pedal steel until pulled up by a rousing harmony. The two voices blend and are joined for a powerful chorus that valiantly leads the song back into the light of hope. And really, that’s the secret behind Or, the Whale’s draw: their songs are honest, intelligent, musically compelling reflections that act like the light off of a beacon, shining over the darkest, choppiest waters.
-Melanie Roberts