A disheveled man stumbled up the Bowery subway stairs, turned to brave the February cold and, startled, stopped in his tracks. Looking at the unexpected mass of people lining Delancey Street, their numbers spilling onto the Bowery, he asked no one in particular, “What is all this for?” A showcase of seven bands - six from New Jersey’s independent label, Don Giovanni Records - was being held that night at the Bowery Ballroom, but that’s not the answer he got in return. “Screaming Females!” the crowd yelled. “JEFF!” others added. It was hard to argue that they were wrong. That night, February 6th, was theirs.
Screaming Females have been a draw in their hometown of New Brunswick, New Jersey since they began making their own records in 2006. But things really took off as they signed to Don Giovanni for their latest release Power Move and were plucked from obscurity by successful garage rocker Jack White, who offered them the opening slot on tour with his latest band, The Dead Weather, last summer. Arctic Monkeys followed suit, bringing them along on their recent American tour. The Screamales, as they are lovingly referred to by fans, are now at an interesting place in their young career, big enough to open for major acts and sell out mid-sized venues, yet small enough to show up playing above a garage in Brooklyn or in a New Brunswick basement.
As the band crowded into the Bowery’s basement bar, they appeared surprisingly unassuming for a group that had inspired the throngs of people outside. Guitarist and singer Marissa Paternoster, drummer Jarrett Dougherty, and bassist Mike “King Mike” Abbate all look like kids who might be more comfortable eating Pixy Stix in front of the T.V. than sitting around with hipsters in a swanky lounge. They awkwardly greeted their label mates, but when touring partners JEFF the Brotherhood walked in, their eyes lit up.
Like the Screaming Females, JEFF have built their reputation on unpredictable behavior and a do-it-yourself ethos. Keeping the band in the family and living in their van, the spastic two-piece of brothers Jake and Jamin Orrall easily erect their minimalist drum and amp set-up anywhere, making them local legends in the Nashville scene. Though they started the band nearly ten years ago, it was only after Jamin left heavily hyped punk outfit Be Your Own Pet in 2006 that he and Jake began touring nonstop, self-producing their best album Heavy Days, and meeting the Screaming Females along the way.
If punk had been forged in America’s heartland instead of seventies New York City, it would look and sound like JEFF the Brotherhood. After a string of mostly mediocre bands, Jamin Orrall strolled onto the Bowery’s dark stage swinging a blinding metal light. Meanwhile, Jake climbed to the top of his amp clad in leather pants and a raccoon tail, before playing a hard-hitting intro riff and diving back to Earth. By the time Jamin began pounding away at his drum kit, the restless crowd had embraced their skuzzy pop rock. Most successful was their infectious gem, “U Got the Look” which is an amalgam of guitar-tinged pop from the last four decades right down to its title.
JEFF’s most unprofessional habits are often their most charming (Jake plays a cassette of obscure rock oldies and leaves his drum set to talk to his brother between songs). Of course, their eccentricities wouldn’t work if their tunes weren’t so unstoppable live. At the Bowery, the band stuck close to the Weezer-meets-Sabbath jam of Heavy Days and when Jake requested the house lights be turned on for the last song of their set, each of the 550 people in attendance realized they had been head banging together.
Screaming Females took the stage mere minutes later to deliver the 1-2 punch JEFF had started. Drummer Dougherty and bassist Abbate provide a competent rhythm section for the band but it’s Marissa Paternoster that provides the meat of the band’s punky attack.
Rock stars aren’t supposed to look like Paternoster, a tiny, mop-topped twenty-two year old who moves about like a little girl who has lost her parents. Eschewing the mean punk image, she wears a series of comically conservative one-piece dresses. But her guitar playing is incendiary live. At the Bowery Ballroom, she twisted her playing between bouncy melodies, hard rock riffing, and angular, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it solos. As a vocalist, she offered the crowd shrieks amidst monotonous crooning recalling 80s punk pioneers like Siouxsie Sioux. An industry-type in dark sunglasses and a blazer slept through most of the show until Paternoster brought him to life with a particularly nasty scream in Power Move opener “Bell.”
While most new musicians fight endlessly to stand apart from the crowd, Paternoster’s star power seeps off her in spite of her efforts to shake newfound attention. Between songs, assuming a hesitant, child-like voice, she mumbled into the microphone nearly unintelligible bursts like “Um, thanks. You guys are great,” poking fun at the inane, half-hearted banter bands routinely offer to audiences and assuring that, she gets it, even if they don’t,
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