Pilot To Bombardier is back
It
was the year 2000. Kurt Cobain has been dead for
six years. “Alternative rock” -- the
self-appointed “successor” to punk -- is shifting. There were still plenty of things
to rage against: injustice, inequity, and ---most horrifying of all -- indifference
but except for inconsequential hacks like Fred Durst, no one seemed angry
anymore. Maybe people got tired of beating dead horses. And maybe some people just
grew up a little. Really, what is rock and roll besides the willful denial of
maturity? Or (according to graphic novelist Chris Ware) the “tempting thesis that adolescence is not
just another hormonal change but a fun lifestyle that you can willfully
perpetuate.”
The
music became more considered, more deliberate and less disheveled. This was
exemplified by the rivalry of two
biggest-selling punk magazines on the newsstands: the old guard Maximum Rockand Roll and the new emo kids, Punk Planet.
Some called this nu-punk or prog-punk. Me and my trashy rock n’ roll
loving pals called it --not without a little derision -- emo.
In
its way, though, early emo was just another expression of punk. Please note
that I stress “early”, not what it became a few short years later: a copycat style
masquerading as genre, and badly at that. Right from the start, emo moved away
from choppy Johnny Ramones riffs and returned to the multifaceted invention of pre-alternative
bands on labels like 4AD and Merge. It expanded on these loud-soft-loud origins
with diatonic call-and-response progressions in major keys.
“For
Liam and I,” says Miguel Villareal, “we were just wanting to do something a
little more complex than power pop and Sean and Trav presented that outlet.”
Villareal
played bass and/or guitar for Pilot To Bombardier, one of the finest ‘burque
bands of the day that obliquely fell under the emo label. As much as I dissed
emo back then I couldn’t keep away from Pilot shows, which says to me that I
may not have been entirely kind or accurate with them back then. In my defense,
I did review one of their shows with three words: “Brilliant and majestic.” And I’ll stand by
that.
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| the four piece: Rhian Batson, Travis Williams, Sean McCullough and Miguel Villarreal |
Musically,
I’d known Villareal and bassist Liam Kimball through Fever Hot!, a goodtime powerpop
band that had just dissolved. Concurrently, drummer Travis Williams and ultra-axman
Sean (Sad Baby Wolf, Oktober People) McCullough were calling it quits in their
proto-emo band, Roman Candle Choir.
Pilot
To Bombardier was fronted by the hard driving Travis Williams, completely caught
up in his own world onstage. The way he crouched over his kit and pounded the
skins, it was hard to believe he wasn’t whacking himself in the head with those
sticks. Guitarist McCullough
commanded an heroic array of effect pedals. I recall counting about ten or
eleven one night and they weren’t for decoration. The man used them all. At
first listen, he seems questioning, searching for the right riff but soon
circles back to his first impulse, pouncing upon himself like an anxious wolf
biting its own tail.
Before long, Kimball took off for Chicago and his new band South of No North
who were cut from the same emo cloth. Villareal
shifted to bass with a markedly syncopated style. Pilot soldiered on as a trio
and pulled out all the stops. It got pretty tumultuous on stage with all three
of them bouncing around like mad scientists in the throes of (un)holy creation.
The thing about a three-piece is that no
one can fuck around. There’s nothing to hide behind, no shield from your
bandmates. A band of three is pretty damn naked, more so than solo because if
you lose it, everyone else goes down in flames with you. Not Pilot. They were
dynamic. That’s not a glib description but per definition: “various forces
operating in any field [and] the way [they] shift or change in relationship to
one another” ( Websters New World Dictionary 1976).
This is in line with what Villareal recently told me, “What distinguished us was our treatment of the music progression
with sometimes three different melodies (two guitars and one vocal) which were
often layered with effects.”
As
with many of their contemporary indie bands, things were getting more melodic
but also quite angular. Loud always guitars get me dancing and I was sure I’d
throw my back out trying to keep up with all of Pilot’s unusual changes and
time signatures.
Lucky
you, Pilot is convening for a reunion show this week. Just because the only
rocking I’m be doing this week is in a rocking chair by the family fireplace in
rural New England is no reason why you shouldn’t go. In fact, I insist because
I’m pretty damn sad to miss it. You might even say I’m feeling pretty emo.
Pilot
To Bombardier, Starsky, Award
Tour
Friday January
2, 2015
Launchpad 618 Central SW
8 pm doors
21+
$ 5
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| pilot to bombardier to dad |
