The Paper Chase
July 3rd, 2009 
at The Empty Bottle, 

by Justin Valmassoi

John Congleton looks like a fresh-faced 21 year old, short blonde hair hapahazardly mussed, completely nondescript in a monochromatic t-shirt and jeans. Relatively soft-spoken, he gives no outward sign of the tics, spasms and flailings he unleashes onstage. In fact, with the exception of bassist Bobby Weaver (who is a towering beast of a man with a beard that looks older than the majority of the crowd), the entire band looks like any group of blue-collar boys enjoying some downtime.

It’s when they take to the stage that things start getting out of hand. As the opening notes of ‘This Is Only A Test’ come barreling out of the speakers the crowd is pretty much helpless, battered by wave after wave of noise but buoyed by melody, all eyes on Congleton, who twitches and stomps, slinging his guitar around like a cheap whore, lost in some personal reverie or public paroxysm.

While the unbelievably painstaking production is the focal point of the record, the pAper chAse live is all about the songs. Obviously, there will be layers of the studio recordings that can’t be reproduced onstage, so what you get are very proper, very heavy indie rock floor stompers that have the crowd doing their best epileptic seizure in lieu of dancing. New drummer Jason Garner seems out to prove his worth, coaxing monstrous noise from his kit when he’s not showing off every percussion trick known to man. Weaver and Congleton seem to have complementary inner-ear disorders which cause them to rock toward one another with every guitar stab and bass thrum, repelling like opposing magnets moments before their instruments collide. Add to the mix a surprisingly audible acoustic guitar and Sean Kirkpatrick’s piano attacks and it is a car wreck, a circus sideshow, a cyclone of writhing limbs and muscle spasms that nonetheless produces excellent sonic results.

It had escaped my attention how many of the songs on Someday This Could All Be Yours, Part One build from relatively subdued foundations into epic, controlled chaos, but live it’s inescapable. There are brief periods of respite, but every five minutes you find yourself caught in another swelling, deafening chorus or two minute wall of instrumental mayhem.

With only a couple forays into their back catalog (‘We Know Where You Sleep,’ ‘Your Ankles to Your Earlobes’) the band performed only songs from their most recent record, and several from the upcoming , due sometime this Winter. From the sound of them, you can expect more paranoia, more vague unease and more indescribably hook-filled anthems wrung from detuned guitars and propulsive piano stabs.

Another tour is scheduled to coincide with the release of the next record, so if you missed them this time around, you can catch them when the snow falls.