Little Brother's (RIP)

As mentioned in my previous post, Little Brother's, one of the best indie rock joints in the country, is closing its doors. In that post, I mostly wrote about my experiences at Stache's, Little Bros.' predecessor. In this post I will describe my memories at Little Brother's.

It was the spring of 1997...I was just finishing my undergraduate degree at Capital University in elementary education. The school where I was student-teaching was wrapping up its school year. A break-up several months earlier was still lingering. And I was preparing to leave Ohio forever (well, not quite).

Brainiac frontman Tim Taylor had just died in a car accident in Dayton. I had just seen him play at Stache's, my favorite music venue. Brainiac was this incredibly awesome dance/punk outfit from Dayton (or Sayton as my brother and I called it) that was prepared to take over the world.

Stache's closed down and Little Brother's was opened a short time later, this time south of campus in the Short North area. The venue went into what I believe was a furniture store, next to a church and youth center. The interior was clean and barren. It looked as if they fitted an old bar to the wall with a gigantic cooler. The restrooms were sterile, unlike the pits in Stache's. The stage was four or five feet off the floor, and the sound system was still suspect.

The first show I checked out was Yo La Tengo in late May. I attended the show with a woman who picked me up at a Will Oldham show the previous month at Stache's. I saw Grifters the next week with no one in particular. Neither show blew me away or made Littlle Brothers feel like home. The venue was relatively empty on both nights. I was leaving Columbus and thought this was the city's way of breaking its bond with me.

Then, I saw Guided By Voices. It was the second of two shows in as many nights that I saw GBV. (The first involved me driving to Dayton ad having my ear cleaned out by the tongue of a strange woman who bummed a cigarette from me.) I picked up some friends and headed for Little Brother's for what I thought would be my last night in Columbus. Bob Pollard and the rest of the boys rocked that night, sending me off on a drunken farewell.

The story of me returning to Columbus is long one, but I did eventually return. It was only a matter of time before I also returned to Little Brother's. There were, of course, several more visits by GBV. I saw the White Stripes (or the White Strips as it stated on the ticket) for the first time opening for Sleater-Kinney. Cat Power (aka Chan Marshall) hid behind her bangs and drunkenly stumbled through a set of old favorites and period Jon Spencer ramblings. I saw Built to Spill for the first time and was blown away...until I saw Doug Martsch play a solo set a few years later.

My sister's first club show was at Little Brother's. I took her to see Helium on a Saturday in October. I remember, because we stopped to see a hippie friend who lived north of campus. (Ohio State lost to Michigan State that night, ending their national title hopes.) It was a fine show, but I think it was a good time fro my sister and me.

Over the years, my sister has had several interesting experiences at Little Bros. When Stephen Malkmus came to town, she promptly told SM and Bob "Nasty" Nastanovich how our family raised sheep. The Walkmen's Hamilton Leithauser offered to buy her roommate a drink, which she declined. And I'm sure she's been drunk there more than once.

I remember seeing Eric Bachman under the name "Crooked Fingers" open for Superchunk and ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead. It was one of those nights when no one was into anything slow and dingy, like Eric Bachman's voice. The crowd talked and drank over Bachman's gravely voice, drowning out his stories of...well...drunken rowdiness leading to disappointment. I met the guys from ...Trail of Dead while they were selling t-shirts. I asked one of the members what they sounded like. He told me death metal. While they weren't death metal, they were loud and great. At one point, the lead singer jumped off the stage to scream in the face of the biggest dude in the place. It was exhilarating to watch such a spontaneous punk rock moment in a time lacking any such spontaneity. The set prompted me to overdo the consumption of Columbus Pale Ale and virtually forget what I am sure was a blistering set by Superchunk.

One of the most moving moments I've ever witnessed at a rock show featured the same Crooked Fingers only as the headliner. Since that night when Bachman bombed horribly, I had picked up on the first two Crooked Fingers' discs, and they were quite good. Besides that, Eric Bachman had done enough with Archers of Loaf to earn my eternal admiration. Anyway, this time he brought a guy on stand-up bass and a drummer. To open, the trio began on the floor in front of the stage. The place was rather empty possibly due to the poor showing the year before or the lack of reputation Loaf held around town, or a little of both. Bachman is a menacing dude, standing at 6'6" with his balding head, thick black-rimmed glasses, and a weight-lifter's physique. He announced that he was going to play a Prince song which prompted a snicker from the small crowd. Bachman quickly interrupted the laughter by informing us that it was a good song. The band then broke into "When U Were Mine". Absolutely brilliant! It was one of those moments you nearly cry because of the beauty of one act in such an ugly setting. To this day, Crooked Finger's take on a Prince song is one of my favorites.

I'll miss Little Brother's. I still want to go back, but it doesn't seem like I'll make it in time. The club that I followed from the north side of campus to the Short North will close this summer for good. Farewell.

You know you're old when...

...you see the end of an era...twice.

An old friend from college informed me on MySpace that an institution of the Columbus (Ohio) music scene is (possibly) closing for good. Little Brother's was the result of another cornerstone of the scene closing and moving to the other side of Ohio State's enormous campus. Stache's and Little Brother's gave independent music - international, national, and local - a stage in a city that has quickly transformed into corporate hell over the past couple of decades.

I remember hearing about Stache's when I was a freshman at Capital University (in the Columbus suburb of Bexley). Some friends of mine and I were riding the COTA #2 from the City Center mall when my buddy held up his newly purchased Urge Overkill disc for all of us to see. A be-speckled dude behind us (who turned out to be a scene regular and longtime Used Kids employee) commented on how great Urge was at Stache's. I had never been there and was immediately drawn to the idea that a national act could be seen in such a small venue right (t)here in Columbus. It was a while after that before I began attending shows at Stache's, but once I did...

Fast forward a year-and-a-half to my sophomore year at Capital. I had been to Stache's a couple of times to see some friends play but had primarily gone to the much larger (and older) Newport Music Hall or the tiny Bernie's Bagels and Distillery. The place had an eerie, smoky haze that hid the black walls and dirty tile floor. The bathrooms were in utter disrepair, and the panels above the stage were often knocked out of place by po-going performers. The place was a dump, but it was our dump. The scene and its scenesters the dark and dank interior of their adopted hangout.

Anyway, that night, I saw the most memorable show of my life, Archers of Loaf with Helium and Earwig. I've written about this show before on this blog, but never have I remembered it so clearly as I do now considering that Stache's/Little Brothers could be no more.




After that Loaf show, I made Stache's my venue of choice. I saw Bob Pollard stumble through "Motor Away" with the Flaming Lips. I felt the awesome power of Chavez long before their reunion tour was praised by Pitchfork - actually long before there was a Pitchfork- following a caustic set by Blonde Redhead. Mike Watt used my shoulder to get onto stage one night before breaking bass strings in my face moments later. I saw Will Oldham play acoustic guitar accompanied by a toy synthesizer while people sat on the floor, intently listening to every word. I saw some of the final performances by the likes of The Coctails and Brainiac (RIP). Archers of Loaf came through again only to leave without an encore, because a few lunkheads ruined the show by slam-dancing. I also saw Mercury Rev and Hum the night that Columbus police and fire marshals stopped the show due to overcrowding. (Hum was nearly arrested when they started jamming while waiting for a few fans to leave). Stache's certainly provided much of musical education in my four years of college.

Of course, Stache's had a long history before me. A very tall (Eric Bachman-lookalike) acquaintance of mine once told me the story of how impressively tall Nirvana's Krist Noveselic was when standing on the two foot-high stage and hunching just below the nicotine-stained ceiling panels. Sonic Youth played its first show with drummer Steve Shelley...I guess that worked out. This all fails to mention the enormous number of indie rock luminaries (as well world, blues, jazz, folk, etc.) that have played Staches' like the Afghan Whigs, Guided By Voices, Dinosaur Jr., The Minutemen, etc.

In the spring of 1997, after months of run-ins with the law and landlords looking to create another strip mall, Stache's shut down and moved south of campus. The venue was named Little Brothers, and would carry the torch of independent music in Columbus.

To be continued...

Another Show I'll Never Forget

In late November, 1995, I went to Stache's in Columbus, OH to see The Flaming Lips. This was about eighteen months after "She Don't Use Jelly" had made them what was thought to be one-hit-wonder status and about three-and-a-half years before they broke with The Soft Bulletin. However, as this show would demonstrate, The Lips were destined to be better than that one radio hit.

I was inches away from Wayne Coyne when he stepped up to the mic. There appeared to be a net of some sort behind the band on the tiny stage and some drunken older guys pushing their way toward the drum kit in the back. I had no idea what was in-store for me that chilly night.

Wayne said something about them being the Flaming Lips from Oklahoma City. Then he said, "Bob." The band broke into Guided By Voices' indie hit "Motor Away" as the older drunk in the back revealed himself to be none other than GBV ringleader Bob Pollard! At the same moment that they played the first few chords, a wall of blinking Christmas lights were turned on to create a solid mass of twinkling light. Bob was stumbling around and was inaudible...until he figured out that his mic wasn't turned on.

When this rocking opener was finally over, Wayne made some crack about Bob not remembering the words as Pollard and his drinking mate (a Used Kids' clerk/owner/regular) managed to land stage left - for the remainder of the show.


The Lips played an rocking set of primarily newer material from Transmissions from the Satellite Heart and Clouds Taste Metallic. There were no bear and bunny suits, no fake blood, no strange projections behind the band. It was The Flaming Lips at a time when they just rocked. Sure, their hardcore days were long gone, but they could write great power pop anthems with loads of experimental sounds at this point in their careers. In addition, their live show wasn't the circus it would turn into by the end of the decade.

Wayne still played a mean guitar at this point and handled the vocal duties. I don't remember him speaking as much as he does now. His voice was so much more of screechy howl than it is today. At times, he just rocked out on the guitar like a true hardcore kid of the 80's.

The band was a foursome during this period with guitarist Ronald Jones. Jones, to this day, had the most impressive board of distortion pedals I have ever seen. It was this large piece of plywood with pedals screwed all over it. He was stepping on pedals almost as much as he was strumming or fingering chords. Some of the most bizarre sounds from The Lips' albums had me convinced they used keyboards or samplers. However, Jones was able to recreate all of those sounds with just a few steps on some pedals. It was really magnificent to watch.


Although legend has it that bassist Michael Ivins was chosen more for his punk rock look than his musical skill, it seemed to be the opposite that night. I remember him wearing crummy jeans, t-shirt, and flannel - much like everyone else in the mid-90's. He was a more-than-proficient musician, and his balding head didn't exactly make me think "punk".

In all of my years going to indie rock shows, I have only seen two drummers that ever amazed me to the point of almost ignoring the rest of the band in favor of watching the disintegration of the skins. (Actually, there were three, but one was my friend Chuck Palmer. I was possibly biased in his case.) One was Chavez drummer James Lo, and the other was The Lips' Steven Drozd. Many forget that multi-instrumentalist Drozd was as an amazing drummer as he was. That man beat the hell out of his drums as if his life depended on it. It was the most intense thing that I've ever seen. When I've seen the band since, I'm always let down that Drozd doesn't play the drums much anymore. When The Lips backed Beck several years later, he only played three or four songs behind the kit. This was probably Beck's second biggest mistake ever...the first being Midnight Vultures.


I walked out that night with a ringing in my ear, an orange t-shirt that proclaimed that "The Flaming Lips Believe" (in aliens), and a much better state of mind. No band will ever rock harder or make me smile more than The Flaming Lips did on that cold, November night at Stache's.

The Show I'll Never Forget

My sister bought me the book The Show I'll Never Forget. It's good so far, but it made me think of shows that I won't soon forget. So, I decided to periodically blog about those memories.



I remember seeing Pavement at the Agora Theater in Cleveland with the Dirty Three and either Come or Fuck - I don't remember which. Anyway, while I was hanging out in the lobby before the show, some kid asked me about my t-shirt. I was wearing my blue Archers of Loaf shirt that featured the same picture of a hockey player as their Vs. the Greatest of All Time EP. The kid couldn't get into the show since he wasn't yet eighteen.

The Loaf show was about a month earlier in Columbus at a venue called Stache's. Stache's is no longer in the same location. Within a couple of years, the dark, dingy rock dive would be torn down in favor of a shopping center that would feature a Gumby's Pizza, a tanning salon, and an H&R Block storefront. This was same venue that Sonic Youth played in for the first time with drummer Steve Shelley. The place was a historical landmark of college rock and the indie scene.

It was my sophomore year in college and I was still learning about indie rock. Despite living in Columbus for almost two years, I had yet to attend a show at Stache's. Of course, they were constantly going back and forth between allowing those under eighteen through their doors. In fact, my girlfriend at that time hadn't yet turned nineteen. We weren't even sure she'd get in, but it was announced that those under eighteen would be allowed in for an additional surcharge.

Archers of Loaf were unknown to me just a couple of months earlier. I had only known them through a random track on the My So-called Life soundtrack that my brother and sister had given me the year before as a joke for my birthday. The song, "South Carolina", was constantly played in my dorm room. It wasn't until about a year later that I had heard anyone even mention the band Archers of Loaf. This guy Brad was letting me in on the latest in upcoming shows. I was intrigued as soon as he mentioned Loaf playing Stache's.

The local free paper, The Other Paper, was pushing the Loaf show in the week leading up to the gig. The first local band I followed was the band Earwig. They were opening along with this band called Helium. Helium were getting a lot of attention since signing to the indie-rock label du jour Matador and featuring a member of math rock auteurs Polvo. It was going to be tyhe indie rock happening of the spring.

Being the uncool hipster wannabe that I was, I wore my bright orange Weezer t-shirt and high school ball cap. My brother joined us from Dayton. I think he still owes my ex-girlfriend the seven or eight dollars it cost to get the tickets. It was the spring of 1995. My indie rock obsession was about to begin.



Earwig put on one of their more memorable shows that night. It's as if they knew that this was the show that could propel them to greater things...it ultimately wouldn't, but it felt like it could. They rocked through their set and finished with their typical closer, "Wounded Knee". This was one of those three part songs that was made to be a finale. It opened with a sparse guitar riff with plenty of space before rocking with an urgency that riled the crowd into a frenzy. The song finished off in similar fashion to the opening chords before breaking down into a punk rock deconstruction. My heart was pumping. Those around me had these wide-eyed looks of amazement on our faces. This was only the first band.

Our friend (another guy named) Brad who now plays for The Sun was raving about the next band Helium. He was a Loaf fan but was really looking forward to Helium's set. The buzz in the club was definitely about Helium.



Helium was fronted by Mary Timony who has had a solid career of her own over the last decade. The band's video which showed Timony dragging a hoe through a field had been displayed on Beavis and Butthead. The "animated" adolescent twosome of course made some comment about a "ho" as the video played.

My girlfriend at the time bumped into Timony in the restroom. She warned my girlfriend that the stalls were a little scary. Timony later autographed a Helium t-shirt for her while Archers of Loaf played their set.

Helium's set wasn't all that energetic, but it rocked. I still remember the old toy keyboard that Timony duct-taped popsicle sticks to in order to hold a note through one of their songs. I could barely make out her voice, but the band played a loud, rawkus art rock. The set was able to live up to the buzz.



Archers of Loaf was up next. I had been anticipating this show for the past month when (the first) Brad had first mentioned it. He had loaned me their two full-length discs which I promptly copied. Icky Mettle and Vee Vee are still two of my favorite records to this day.

I had a spot right in front of the stage, leaning on the monitors. I was so close that bassist Matt Gentling nearly hit me several times over the bridge of my nose with the end of his instrument when he wasn't yelling a drunken "thanks" into the mic after every song. Eric Bachman, an imposing presence with his 6'5"+ frame and throaty growl of a voice yelled into the mic 24 inches to my left. Dana Carvey look-alike Eric Johnson was maybe five feet away, shredding the hell out of his guitar and distortion pedals. Mark Price was the most ordinary-looking of a band of ordinary-looking guys, but he could beat the skins into oblivion.

Archers of Loaf played a set that included their "hits" Web in Front", "Harnessed in Slums", and "Wrong". During the set, Loaf played "You and Me" which led right into "Might" with a bang of the drums exactly like they had on Icky Mettle. I could see at least two other guys in the audience mouth "just like on the record" as I was thinking the same thing. They played "Audio Whore" and shook the ground beneath my feet as everyone screamed along. The band virtually played every song from their young catalog sans "South Carolina".

I saw Archers of Loaf play three more times after that and have seen Eric Bachman several times as his next incarnation, Crooked Fingers. Never did the band sound as good or rock as hard as they did that night. That show changed the way I looked at live music. There was an entire community of people who lived passionately for these regular guys playing guitars in crap dive bars. I think that I have been searching for a show like that Archers of Loaf gig for the past twelve years. I want that high again.

So, when the kid at the Pavement show asked what he missed, I didn't have the heart to tell him what that show meant to me, and I still don't.