There is a question I’ve had to ask myself on several recent occasions: How much do I really like Aderbat?
Aderbat, by the way, is a five-piece band with members scattered from Brooklyn to the suburbs of Philadelphia, that I’ve seen play a self-described “Gamma Set”—a slimmed down three-man version of the group—on three separate occasions now at Williamsburg’s no-cover venue Pete’s Candy Store.
The first time I caught the band, I was lured by my own curiosity. With a weekly music slot to fill here at the Press, I spend a fair amount of time trying to find relatively unknown music that’s worth cheerleading, which is how I ended up seeing these lads play a crowd-hushing set at Pete’s back in June.
At that set, as well as at two since, lead vocalist Matt Taylor played intricate arpeggios on his electric guitar, his powerful voice reminiscent mostly of crooning balladeer Rufus Wainwright, with perhaps a dash of Thom Yorke’s high-register wail.
Taylor, though, consistently and unexpectedly proves to be the least watchable member of the group. He’s an able performer, but the gentleman flanking him on each of these occasions—drummer Todd Schied on the right, keyboardist/percussionist Craig Hendrix on the left—are subtle studies in a mesmerizing sort of performance minimalism.
Schied is both visually and sonically compelling, slowly ratcheting up the complexity of a song’s backbone as he integrates more and more of his kit into a number as it unfolds. Apt to gently rub his snare with a brush or repeatedly tap the metallic top of his drumhead with a stick, he seems to actually fulfill that common rock trope of the drummer being the heart of the band.
Hendrix’s hands are hidden behind his keyboard as he plays it, a look of stern concentration on his face. But he never overplays his instrument, filling in a song’s open holes modestly with sparse notes and gentle chords.
However deft he is on the keys, Hendrix becomes the most interesting member of Aderbat’s three-man version when he takes up secondary percussion duties.
The first time I saw the band, Hendrix rhythmically rubbed a piece of sandpaper at curious intervals in one tune (I couldn’t tell you anything else about it, as it was so pleasingly distracting), and when I dropped in to catch a show last week, he took up triangle duty, working a tight rhythm with the metal wand and muffling the tone with his hand to vary the tone.
So, to return to my original question, why do I wonder if I really like Aderbat? The Columnist’s Conundrum here is that I worry my enthusiasm for a band is sometimes a product of me wanting it to be good.
I was deflated when I got Aderbat’s recent sophomore effort, We Belong To The Sea and found that fleshed-out, full-band recordings of the songs were noticeably less tense than what I had seen in “Gamma Set” mode. I like the record: “Busted Cars” is massively hummable, and though “No Would Notice” is seemingly misplaced near the album’s end, it’s a durable recording with opening vocal harmonies that segue into a noisy interlude that in turn spirals into moody softness.
The Aderbat boys are playing at Pete’s each Wednesday in August; though the two shows I’ve dropped in on already have been confounding. The first saw Schied bust his bass pedal and simply abandon the group mid-set, much to the confusion of his band mates, and last week Taylor held up his swollen, guitar strumming hand for us to behold. “I got stung by a bee,” he said.
Perhaps it was the frustratingly muffled vocals—the sound was a little off on my most recent Pete’s pilgrimage—but the band lost control of the room early on last week and never seemed to reclaim it. The cargo-shorted bros in attendance made multiple beer runs during a set that spanned a scant 45 minutes, and then frustratingly yapped through Aderbat’s set, regardless of whether the music was quiet or epic (one guy tried to talk to me mid-song about my note-taking, and I wordlessly pointed at the stage).
Aderbat has two more sets at Pete’s before the month is out. You should plan on attending and hope the boys reign over the tiny back room in a way that will require as much of your effort as it does theirs.
Aderbat, by the way, is a five-piece band with members scattered from Brooklyn to the suburbs of Philadelphia, that I’ve seen play a self-described “Gamma Set”—a slimmed down three-man version of the group—on three separate occasions now at Williamsburg’s no-cover venue Pete’s Candy Store.
The first time I caught the band, I was lured by my own curiosity. With a weekly music slot to fill here at the Press, I spend a fair amount of time trying to find relatively unknown music that’s worth cheerleading, which is how I ended up seeing these lads play a crowd-hushing set at Pete’s back in June.
At that set, as well as at two since, lead vocalist Matt Taylor played intricate arpeggios on his electric guitar, his powerful voice reminiscent mostly of crooning balladeer Rufus Wainwright, with perhaps a dash of Thom Yorke’s high-register wail.
Taylor, though, consistently and unexpectedly proves to be the least watchable member of the group. He’s an able performer, but the gentleman flanking him on each of these occasions—drummer Todd Schied on the right, keyboardist/percussionist Craig Hendrix on the left—are subtle studies in a mesmerizing sort of performance minimalism.
Schied is both visually and sonically compelling, slowly ratcheting up the complexity of a song’s backbone as he integrates more and more of his kit into a number as it unfolds. Apt to gently rub his snare with a brush or repeatedly tap the metallic top of his drumhead with a stick, he seems to actually fulfill that common rock trope of the drummer being the heart of the band.
Hendrix’s hands are hidden behind his keyboard as he plays it, a look of stern concentration on his face. But he never overplays his instrument, filling in a song’s open holes modestly with sparse notes and gentle chords.
However deft he is on the keys, Hendrix becomes the most interesting member of Aderbat’s three-man version when he takes up secondary percussion duties.
The first time I saw the band, Hendrix rhythmically rubbed a piece of sandpaper at curious intervals in one tune (I couldn’t tell you anything else about it, as it was so pleasingly distracting), and when I dropped in to catch a show last week, he took up triangle duty, working a tight rhythm with the metal wand and muffling the tone with his hand to vary the tone.
So, to return to my original question, why do I wonder if I really like Aderbat? The Columnist’s Conundrum here is that I worry my enthusiasm for a band is sometimes a product of me wanting it to be good.
I was deflated when I got Aderbat’s recent sophomore effort, We Belong To The Sea and found that fleshed-out, full-band recordings of the songs were noticeably less tense than what I had seen in “Gamma Set” mode. I like the record: “Busted Cars” is massively hummable, and though “No Would Notice” is seemingly misplaced near the album’s end, it’s a durable recording with opening vocal harmonies that segue into a noisy interlude that in turn spirals into moody softness.
The Aderbat boys are playing at Pete’s each Wednesday in August; though the two shows I’ve dropped in on already have been confounding. The first saw Schied bust his bass pedal and simply abandon the group mid-set, much to the confusion of his band mates, and last week Taylor held up his swollen, guitar strumming hand for us to behold. “I got stung by a bee,” he said.
Perhaps it was the frustratingly muffled vocals—the sound was a little off on my most recent Pete’s pilgrimage—but the band lost control of the room early on last week and never seemed to reclaim it. The cargo-shorted bros in attendance made multiple beer runs during a set that spanned a scant 45 minutes, and then frustratingly yapped through Aderbat’s set, regardless of whether the music was quiet or epic (one guy tried to talk to me mid-song about my note-taking, and I wordlessly pointed at the stage).
Aderbat has two more sets at Pete’s before the month is out. You should plan on attending and hope the boys reign over the tiny back room in a way that will require as much of your effort as it does theirs.
