HAPPY HOUR BINGO! Win tix to Allah Las, Lewis Del Mar, John Paul White, etc!

Pabst Blue Ribbon Presents

HAPPY HOUR BINGO! Win tix to Allah Las, Lewis Del Mar, John Paul White, etc!

Allah Las, Lewis Del Mar, John Paul White

Thursday, 3/30

Doors: 4:00 pm / Show: 6:00 pm

Free

This event is 21 and over

WIN TIX TO: Allah Las, Courtney Barns, Lewis Del Mar, Betty Who, Wood + Wire, Joe Pug, Justin Townes Earle, Jonathan Richman, John Paul White, Son Volt

No ticket necessary. Bring a valid ID.

Allah Las
Allah Las
If you drive past the 200 block of South La Brea, there is a
lamp shop, a pet shop, and a little glass door that says
Casting Agency above it. Inside you'll find one of LA's most stereotypical rituals, where men & women from all walks of life vie for the attention and popularity of the
Hollywood producer. It's a dream factory for some of them. It's also a place where Los Angeles outsiders learn what the city is really like, beyond the sun and surf and celebrities, where every
brightly-lit surface eventually faces a cloud. indeed, the lessons learned by the Allah-Las guitarists Miles Michaud and Pedrum Siadatian, bassist Spencer Dunham, drummer Matthew Correia
since their auspicious formation in 2008 have been tempered with experience. Now, with their third album Calico Review (their first for Mexican Summer), their experience transforms once more, this time into wisdom. The band's
trajectory, formed around mutual appreciation for the same kinds
of music and a host of shared experiences, focuses on both the outer trappings of their home and surroundings, and the
through line of darkness that suffuses life in LA county.
Where the Allah-Las display their insight, and what really shines across the 12 songs that comprise Calico Review, is the way that the group has pivoted from specific influences and nods
to the music they love, to crafting the feelings of freedom, grit, and melancholy in their music. That feeling the peerless capture of music long in the tradition and mood of California pop,
the sound that's captured the essence of the LA experience - aligns with their stylistic technique and their experience in the studio environment to create their strongest album to date, one
which showcases their developments in songwriting and arrangements. The process began with their self-titled debut, which captured the Allah-Las live set circa 2012
and continued onward with 2014's Worship the Sun, where they began to experiment with overdubs and writing songs individually instead of as a band. Now, Calico Review showcases a band that's grown confident in its own style to reflect the perspectives of each member, to craft an album that changes up the approach from song-to-song, while retaining their abilities as a cohesive unit. Audiences familiar with the band will recognize the levels of nuance and steadiness the Allah-Las have grown into throughout Calico Review. It's immediate, the first thing you recognize about the band in the opening moves of ͞Strange Heat, in the amount of control and character burning off of the band's knack for restraint. Songs like Famous Phone Figure,cradle character
sketches over delicate strains of violin, organ, and Mellotron, Correia's drumming carefully underlining a three-note theme that casts a phantom sadness over the proceedings, the group
exerting a touch both light and steady enough to bring your mood to theirs. Could Be You works off a steady percussive gallop, guitarist Miles Michaud waxing reflexively on second chances while the band focuses on forward motion.
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Roadside Memorial applies the Bo Diddley beat to the open road, Pedrum Siadatian stepping up on vocals, and finding new
ways to match his talents to propulsive musical ends. Elsewher
e, High & Dry,featuring drummer Matthew Correia on lead vocals, focuses on the Allah-Las most quintessential and
peerless quality: writing emotionally resonant pop, at once
direct and detached, casual and knowing, and instantly memorable. The dream factory itself gets called out in the fun, surf-stung number 200 South La Brea, its carnival-like atmosphere reflecting the excitement and anxiety of those who await their judgment. In between releases, the Allah-Las have toured around the world, and will continue that
journey in support of Calico Review. The experience of traveling and idle time on tour inspired the group in different ways, and provided the pathways by which the band transports its
listeners to a different place, be that wherever they are, and where the band has been. What the Allah-Las present is not necessarily crossing the L.A. River, coin in mouth, on the
Riverboat Styx. It's not Raymond Chandler and it's not Raymond Carver. But the band's four members are aware of the pitfalls that stack against the idyllic notion of southern California life that forms from outside of the city. It's a siren call to the hopeful, and it's a successful town for tempering dreams into wakeful reality. Even with over 8,000 people per square mile, there is room for everyone, and then some, to be completely alone, by choice or otherwise. Calico Review bears the mark of four students becoming the teachers, sharing the sentiments of the town they call home.
Join them. There's a lot to learn.
Lewis Del Mar
Rockaway Beach, a working class neighborhood in the shadows of New York City on the periphery of Queens, is a community that sits within earshot of both the crashing surf of the Atlantic and the rumbling whir of New York City's "A" train. A sublime intertwining of the industrial and natural exists, an environment that fully embodies Lewis Del Mar's sonic landscape.

Lewis Del Mar is two lifelong friends, Danny Miller and Max Harwood. Inseparable creative companions filled with zeal and confidence, recently epiphanic twenty-somethings. The two have been on a continual musical journey together, a DIY mission that found them ingloriously wading against the current for years. Through a tireless pursuit including self-booked tours and uncomfortable nights on friend's couches and floors, they have now arrived at the destination they've unknowingly sought for years; a 400 square foot bungalow. A humble and unimposing shanty isn't the haven of most artistic dreams, but it is significant in the amalgamation of this duo's years of trial-and-error self discovery.

Relocating from the outskirts of Washington, D.C. in search of something new Danny and Max side-stepped the hallowed indie grounds of Brooklyn and found refuge in Rockaway's desolate, gritty beaches.

Lewis Del Mar's music is complex and challenging all the while refreshing and comforting. A difficult achievement but one the band seems to do effortlessly without regard for genre. "To be a mix, is still to be," says Harwood, a statement that resonates in every crevice of Lewis Del Mar's hybrid creations. An outlook that packs their music with an ever present confluence of inspirations, resulting in riveting tension. The guys proudly crafted a decade of self-taught knowledge into bedroom-recordings of live drums and acoustic guitars cascading against sharp Latin percussion samples and synthesizers; a tug of war seemingly one pull away from spinning into chaos.

In July of 2015, after almost two years of meticulous collaboration in a vacuum, Lewis Del Mar was catapulted onto the blogosphere with the independent release of their first single "Loud(y)." The reaction was instantaneous and overwhelmingly positive. Indie Shuffle, Pigeons & Planes, Consequence of Sound, KCRW and CMJ all hailed the song as one of the best of the year. "Loud(y)" made iTunes "Best Songs of 2015" after only two weeks on the platform and landed top 5 on the Spotify Viral charts. Of the band's very first live performance, The New York Times gave a glowing preview claiming "Loud(y)" was a "clattering profane mixed-media anthem" and questioned if the band's debut performance could possibly stand up to the veracity of the recordings. A sold out performance that left a line of people around the block provided a resounding answer.
John Paul White
Beulah. It's a small, complicated word with a tangle of meanings.
It's the title of John Paul White's new album, his first in nearly a decade, a remarkably and assuredly diverse collection spanning plaintive folk balladry, swampy
southern rock, lonesome campfire songs, and dark acoustic pop. Gothic and ambitious, with a rustic, lived-in sound, it's a meditation on love curdling into its opposite, on recrimination defining relationships, on hope finally filtering through doubt.
Beulah is also a White family nickname. "It's a term of endearment around our house," White explains, "like you would call someone 'Honey.' My dad used to call my little sister Beulah, and I call my daughter Beulah. It's something I've always been around."
Beulah is also something much loftier. For the poet and painter William Blake, Beulah was a place deep in the collective spiritual unconscious. "I won't pretend to be the smartest guy in the world," says White, "but I dig a lot of what he's written. Beulah was a place you could go in your dreams. You could go there in meditation, to relax and heal and center yourself. It wasn't a place you could stay, but you came back to the world in a better state."
And perhaps the music on this album originated in that "pleasant lovely Shadow where no dispute can come." According to White, the songs came to him unbidden—and not entirely welcome. "When these songs started popping into my head, I had been home for a while and I was perfectly happy. I wasn't looking for songs. I didn't know whether any would pop back in my head again, and I was honestly okay with that. I'm a very happy father and husband, and I love where I live. I love working with artists for a label that I think is doing good work."
Far from the grind and glamour of Nashville—where he worked for years as a working songwriter before stepping into the spotlight himself—White settled in his hometown of Muscle Shoals, Alabama, a wellspring of gritty Southern rock and soul since the 1960s. Together with Alabama Shakes keyboard player Ben Tanner and Shoals native Will Trapp, he founded and runs Single Lock Records, a local indie label that has released records by some of the Magnolia State's finest, including Dylan LeBlanc, St. Paul & the Broken Bones, and legendary songwriter and keyboard player Donnie Fritts. The label is based in a small ranch house a stone's throw from White's own home, which would come in handy when those songs started invading his head.
"Honestly, I tried to avoid them, but then I realized the only way I was going to get rid of them was if I wrote them down. I got my phone out and I'd sing these little bits of melody, then put it away and move on. But eventually I got to a place where it was a roar in my head, and that pissed me off." Due to his experiences as a gun-for-hire in Nashville, White was reluctant to romanticize the creative process, to turn it into a spiritual pursuit. "Then one day I told my wife I think I'm going to go write a song. She was as surprised as I was. I went and wrote probably eight songs in three days. It was like turning on a faucet."
Most artists would kill for such a downpour, but White was wary of the consequences. He knew that writing songs would lead to recording them, which would result in releasing them, and that means touring and leaving home for weeks at a time. "As soon as I write a song, I start thinking what other people might think of it. I've talked to friends about this: What is it about us that makes us do that? Why can't I just sit on my back porch and sing these songs out into the ether? I don't have an answer for it yet, but I think it's just part of who I am. I need that reaction. I need to feel like I'm moving someone in a good way or in a bad way. I need to feel like there's a connection."
White threw himself into the project, no longer the reluctant songwriter but a craftsman determined to make the best album possible—to do these songs justice. He cut several songs at the renowned FAME Studios in his hometown, where Aretha Franklin, Wilson Pickett, the Allmans, the Osmonds, Bobbie Gentry, Arthur Conley, and Clarence Carter recorded some of their most popular hits.
One product of those sessions is "What's So," which introduces itself by way of a fire-and- brimstone riff, as heavy as a guilty conscience—the kind of riff you wouldn't be surprised to hear on a Sabbath album. But White's vocals are gritty and soulful, a product of the Shoals, almost preacherly as he sings about earthly and eternal damnation: "Sell your damn soul or get right with the man, keep treading water as long as you can," he exhorts the listener. "But before you do, you must understand that you don't get above your raisin'." It's the heaviest moment on the record, perhaps the darkest in White's career.
At the other end of the spectrum is "The Martyr," one of the catchiest tunes White has ever penned. The spryness of the melody imagines Elliott Smith wandering the banks of the Tennessee River, yet the song is shot through with a pervasive melancholy as White wrestles with his own demons. "Keep falling on your sword, sink down a little more," he sings over a dexterous acoustic guitar theme. This is not, however, a song about some unnamed person, but rather a pained self-diagnosis: "These are the wounds that I will not let heal, the ones that I deserve and seem so real." White knows he's playing the martyr, but he leaves the song hauntingly open-ended, as though he isn't sure what to do with this epiphany beyond putting it in a song.
The rest of Beulah was recorded in the Single Lock offices/studio near White's home. "I can be more relaxed about the process. We can all just sit there and talk about records or baseball without feeling like someone's standing over our shoulders. That's a big deal to me, not to feel pressured. And I'm only about twenty yards away from home, so I can walk over and throw a baseball with my kids or make dinner with my wife."
Some of the quieter—but no less intense—songs on Beulah were created in that environment, including the ominously erotic opener "Black Leaf" and the Southern gothic love song "Make You Cry." As he worked, a distinctive and intriguing aesthetic began to grow clearer and clearer, one based in austere arrangements and plaintive moods. These are songs with empty spaces in them, dark corners that could hold ghosts or worse. "There were certain moments when Ben and I would finish up a song, listen back to it, and think how in the world did we get here. But that's just what the songs ask for. These are the sounds in my head. This is the sound of me thinking and living and breathing and doing."
Once White had everything assembled and sequenced, it was time to give the album a title, to wrap everything up for the listener. Beulah stuck—not only because of family history or Blake, but because White realized that making music was his own trip to Beulah. "If you had to sum up what music is for most people in this world, it's that. It's that escape. It's that refuge. You go there and you come back and you use that to help you with your life. You always have that as a place to go."
Venue Information:
Larimer Lounge
2721 Larimer St.
Denver, CO, 80205
http://www.larimerlounge.com/