In these days of instant hipness, when “alternative” bands score major-label recording contracts before the vinyl is dry from their first seven-inch pressing, it’s rare to find a group that’s done the indie circuit: touring self-promoted gigs in a jerry-rigged van, bumming money to pay for studio time, playing borrowed equipment . . .
Hum is a band that by all indications has profited from the experience. Hailing from Champaign (the hallowed ground of such bands as Didjits, 16 Tons and Honcho Overload), Hum’s sound betrays little of its Midwest-college-town roots. In trying to describe the larger-than-life guitars and far-beyond-driven percussion of the group’s 1992 single “Sundress,” you might shake your head and, holding your hands at bigger-than-a-breadbox width, simply stutter: “B-B-Big.”
While Hum’s music bivouacs somewhere between the distortion-scapes of Dinosaur Jr. and My Bloody Valentine and the ultra-tight rhythm guitar rock of Helmet, the group is by no means another paint-by-numbers grunge band.
Rather, Hum displays all the violence and beauty of a volcanic eruption. Songs like “Scraper” are the explosions, with drummer Bryan St. Pere’s rhythm dynamics splashing unexpected from the surge of Tim Lash and singer Matt Talbott’s guitars. Other times, their musical ground undulates, gradually ceding to liquid, thunderous strings.
But Hum’s true skill is in integrating things gentle into an atmospheric distortion: “Firehead” is like a rolling flow of molten earth cut by glowing percussion veins, at times slowing and cooling at the edges even as waves of feedback slither on.
First formed in 1989, Hum recorded two CDs (1991’s “Fillet Show” and 1993’s Brad Wood-produced “Elektra 2000”) on 12-inch Records, a label run by yet another Champaign guitar band, the Poster Children (of which bassist Jeff Dimpsey is a former member). Major labels came a-courtin’. Wading out of Champaign’s “Band Jam” morass at just the right time, Hum signed to RCA for its third full-length release, “You’d Prefer an Astronaut.”
Commenting on Hum’s performances, St. Pere says he’s “comfortable and proud of our live shows . . . but in some ways we’re just scratching the surface of getting to know each other as a band.”
Hum’s wish list is refreshingly modest.
“This is the first tour where people have actually heard of us . . . it’s nice to not have the sound man telling you to turn it down, to get some respect from the club managers, maybe a few free beers once in a while . . . it’s good to have a working U-Haul and a van that runs too.”
“You’d Prefer an Astronaut,” produced by Keith Cleversley (Flaming Lips), represents a new, improved Hum. Talbott’s melodic voice comes to the fore on tuneful numbers like “The Very Old Man” and “Stars,” whose violent guitar bursts in the midst of near-silence are terrifying. This is not mere suburban teen angst–songs like “Why I Like Robins” and “I’d Like Your Hair Long” hint at autumn sun and rainy-day layabouts with lovers gone by, covering a rich emotional territory that matches the band’s musical evolution.
Silverchair is from the flipside of that maturation scale. Winners of an Australian radio station contest (grand prize: a day in the recording studio of Australia’s national alternative station), the group’s debut album on Epic, “Frogstomp,” has since gone double-platinum. This grunge power-trio marries Black Sabbath template riffs to Eddie Vedder-lite vocals.
Hum and Silverchair play tonight at Metro.
Sunsplash ’95, with Aswad, Buju Banton, Dennis Brown, Wailing Souls, Worl-a-girl and others, Wednesday at the Skyline Stage: The low-end groove against the wickedness of Babylon continues at this yearly reggae gathering. Buju Banton’s dancehall style, with gangsta-rap-like allusions to guns and sex stand in contrast to more light, synthesized Marley-esque fair like Aswad and Wailing Souls.
Nitzer Ebb, Saturday at the Metro: Nitzer Ebb’s tour (the group’s first in the U.S. in three years) will be based around “Big Hit,” its not entirely mis-labeled fifth LP and a serious re-tooling of its “join-in-the-chant” industrial dance formula.
Luther Vandross, Friday at New World Music Theatre: Until someone can genetically clone the late Marvin Gaye, a man whose name was synonymous with the sticky and languid sounds of soul, Luther Vandross is a worthy inheritor.
Freakwater, Bodeco, Friday at the Empty Bottle: Often dubbed “hardcore country,” Chicago’s Freakwater tweaks stomping, Western guitar rhythms with a “yippee-yi-kay-ay,” slowing down for ballads and other tear-soaked, tumbleweed fare. Louisville’s Bodeco open with tangy blues and straight-up rock, no chaser.
The Drovers, Saturday at Lounge Ax: Where the Pogues forced Irish folk music kicking and screaming into a rock spotlight, local faves the Drovers instead integrate sparing elements of Eyre into their quickened brand of collegiate party (not beer but indie) rock. Why these guys don’t get more major-label attention is a mystery; maybe it’s because they waive the dime-a-dozen, over-amped guitars and angst-driven screaming of other young bands for something more upbeat and musical.
American Music Festival, Thursday at Fitzgerald’s: This five-day (June 22-26) jazz-zydeco-blues-country experience kicks off at 4:30 with a variety of acts, local and otherwise. Thursday: The Charles Lane Jazz Band, Geno Delafose & the Eunice Playboys, and Paul Cebar & the Milwaukeeans play outside while Don Walser & The Pure Texas Band and Luther Allison play inside. (See Concertline next week for more acts and information.)
