Originally written for CT Indie and Manic Productions

     Considering that Wednesday’s show was part of Owen Ashworth’s last lap under the name Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, anticipation for an exceptional performance was fair, though bittersweet. Here he was, performing solo in a humble and intimate setting which was also the last time many will see him perform. This tour was constructed in preparation for his notable Chicago show at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion, which he made a point to mention made this show “practice”—not that it made any difference to those in attendance. No, for Ashworth, the crowd would do a special favor at the end of the show and move to the front from behind their glass partition at the bar.

For Lion Cub and Arms and Legs, the square that marked the dance floor seemed to repel the crowd as if there was an unannounced game of the floor is lava.

    The expression on Chelsea Hahn’s face was still one of continual pleasance, something close to an ‘I’m just happy to be here’ look. Though they currently live in Massachusetts, Hahn and Chad Jewett have deep roots in New Haven, which also housed the creative process for their upcoming debut full-length, Seneca. Between Hahn’s hand-carved stamps for their merchandise and the distinctly folksy content of their songs, they present all the style and aesthetic of lo-fi electronica while rooted in something much more wholesome.

The room’s new color lights whirred around the floor in time with the beat, moving so fast at times that the motion blur mimicked gnats dancing in front of a light. Hahn’s spine was straight, ankles crossed, firing out drum beats on the Nord in front of her while Jewett wailed into the microphone on her left. His guitar was about two sizes too loud for the room, adding abrasiveness to the otherwise pleasance of the two during songs like ‘American Buffalo’ and ‘The Bird on Your Sill.’

    Nights like these, Lilly’s Pad seems more like an exclusive loft rather than what it is—an after hours dance floor turned venue. In between acts, most of the crowd would plop into a chair at one of the tables for two along the wall or brazenly socialize behind the bar’s glass partition. The few under 21 mostly loitered awkwardly, but were the ones who braved the invisible frontlines for Arms and Legs’ set.

    Arms and Legs have an air of wizened musicianship about them, which could be owed to their time in Beijing playing to thousands via festivals put on by their label Modern Sky Records. Scott Daly moved with positively manic energy which appeared to be gunning through his vocal chords. His voice contradicted his fever and emerged unharmed in Thom Yorke-like croons. He seemed to permeate octaves, leaving a lonely tone to float hauntingly within the darkened room. Each instrument in the mix left the same lingering effect in their wake. At times, the double drums shook your ribs more than the bass throbbed with your pulse. Everyone in the band pulsed trance-like with their parts, making it feel like more of an awakening when a song closed and Daly laughed nervously, saying “Alright, then” or “Whaddaya say, gang?” At one point he excused his banter by saying he’s been listening to too much Jim Morrison lately.

    Powerful and authentic, Arms and Legs were certainly the best set of the night. The cycles of applause swelled with more excitement at the close of each song. Yet on top of the powerhouse of instrumentation already in place, every now and then one drummer would turn to an open laptop at his right and play a track to sync into a song. It was the only artificial source of sound in the set, and in that bound all three acts of the night by this common denominator. These were mostly filled out by keys and looped vocals, which could have been manually orchestrated by Daly as he had equipment to do both on either side of him. Then again, he was so possessed by song at times it was like an exorcism taking place above York Street for all passerbies to see. Like Daly has tattooed on his forearm: “Never afraid, never ashamed.”

    The reception for Ashworth was like a dinner par- actually, more like the last scene of Titanic. Warm, familiar, with an undertone of excitement for his future endeavors. Also, Leo was at the top of the staircase.

    In any case, Ashworth was not among strangers, a crowd he’s earned after 13 years of musicianship. Requests were called out, sneakers fidgeted in clear excitement as the notes to a familiar song began to play (most of which were off 2006’s Etiquette). And at the relentless request of ‘Love Connection,’ Ashworth waved up two eager devotees (notorious and wanted CT Indie contributors John Packer and Megan Manowitz) to awkwardly hammer out the lines to the song over the glow of Packer’s phone which displayed the lyrics to the song just in case. They wanted to hear the song so much, they were even willing to sing the line ‘a delicate blend of sweat and menstrual blood.’ Menstrual blood! Oh god, the fandom!

    It’s clear that none of this has reached Ashworth’s head in any negative way. He stood above his motherboard of equipment and microphone, never behaving with any visible gusto though with a subtle precision. Still, he’s probably humbler than the next indie legend. “I feel weird about playing this song because the Sun Kil Moon version was better,” he joked with a dryness stirring up laughter as he went into ‘Natural Light.’ He spoke about his trip to Las Vegas in an especially endearing way, how he visited the Liberace Museum and made sure to capture himself in the shots with mirrors behind immortalized outfits from the musical icon; how he ate lobster not one, but two times. With overtly mortal stories like these, it’s funny to remember that Ashworth is just as goofy as any of us, no matter the lack of underground sensationalism in our lives.

    However human, someone still graciously provided him with a bar napkin for his sweat.

    Some people prefer what they can expect. A good bar, a modestly-stacked bill (three acts—not too many, not too little) and a decent crowd. This is part-in-parcel for both Manic Productions and Casiotone for the Painfully alone, actually—both known for their consistency in production and backing tracks (well, only one of them is known for the latter. Give you one guess.)

    But for all the things you try to anticipate, there are just as many outliers. These tend to define the bands, performances and shows beyond the impression you get from a packaged record. It’s part of why you make the effort to go to these shows, whether they are a debut or final performance.






(Photos: Luke Dringoli)

AEROPLANE 1929 have always been contained within a kind of time capsule. They draw from the weathered corners of Americana, adding in their own personal monograms-- piano, horns, clean production-- to achieve just the right age for their craft. They've been dusting themselves off since 2005, finding similar musical companions in town (Sidewalk Dave, Elison Jackson) and out (Deer Tick, Kevin Devine). Maybe its their antiquated sound or the members' polite tone of professionalism, but they never seemed to quite fit their time.

This could be why it feels strange that they're putting it to rest with plans to break up in August. Despite only playing two shows in Connecticut in the last 18 months, Aeroplane has always seemed like a scene staple and elder in the light indie rock scene associated with Safety Meeting and February Records. Even if you were never a fan, you should try to make it out to one of their last shows in July to pay your respects to an old friend to the New Haven scene. This Friday's release show at the Legion should be intimate and friendly-- you'll get a free copy of the new record with your admission dollars.

Scroll down for an interview with vocalist and guitarist Alex Mazzaferro, where he elaborates on the release of their last record, Attic & Cellar (out on Topshelf Records).

Listen to an unreleased track from the upcoming album, 'Soothsayer Said.'



Friends Sidewalk Dave, Elison Jackson, Luke Elliot and Lion Cub will be joining them. The night will probably feel like more of a send-off than an open-casket.

Earlier this week, Inkwell did a brief interview with frontman Alex Mazzaferro regarding the album release and its production:

Why release a record with the imminent break-up?
We decided to record an album despite our imminent breakup because we felt that we hadn't yet made the final statement we wanted to make as a band. I wrote most of the songs for "Attic & Cellar" in the spring of 2009, knowing well before then that we would be breaking up around now. And since these songs felt like Aeroplane, 1929 songs -- like the culmination of the sound we had been building together for a few years -- rather than solo songs, it was fitting to conclude the band with their release. These songs were kicking around in my head -- haunting me; they needed exorcising. They deserved a proper release, and the Topshelf Records guys were good enough to do that for us.

What qualities about the record make it worthy enough to leave behind in Aeroplane's legacy?
The album is composed of twelve narratively-linked songs, songs we spent more time crafting than we ever have in the past. By the time we finished recording them, they had become the purest collaborations in our five-year career as a band. Ironically, the penultimate sessions for the record took place simultaneously in two different cities -- I tracked guitars, keyboards, and vocals in our home studio in New Haven while Jake [Goldman] recorded woodwind and string players in his dorm at NYU -- but we were able to do that because we had developed such an innate trust in each other. When we began the final session together in May we each knew how to best bring the songs to life.

Was the production process any different knowing the future of the project?
Aeroplane, 1929 is, at its core, a collaboration between me and Jake. I write the songs and lyrics and play a variety of instruments. Jake records our albums and contributes arrangements beyond his role as multi-instrumentalist. Wil [Mulhern] and Noah [Goldman] and other folks played on the record a bunch, but it was essentially the two of us at the helm. Jake knows me very well, knows how to make what I'm trying to say translate to tape. I paint in broad strokes; he works on the level of detail. This relationship really started to solidify with our 2008 release "Original Sin," but we felt like we owed it to ourselves to make a full-length together. This is the record we were meant to make, and all the sacrifices required to make it were worth it.

We've always made our records without being hemmed in by what we could reproduce live. But with "Attic & Cellar" we were free to experiment further. Jake spends most of his time listening to and writing chamber music; I spend most of my time reading and writing about literature, so it made sense to push the songs to the level of story and to try to marry American roots music and more avant garde stuff. This record gave us the chance to do that.

What are your plans to promote the release?

The window to promote this record live is very small. We're playing dual release shows -- Thursday, July 1 at the VFW in Florence, Massachusetts w/ Ian O'Neil of Deer Tick, Lion Cub, and the Okay Win; and Friday, July 2 at the American Legion in Wallingford, Connecticut w/ Sidewalk Dave, Luke Elliot, Lion Cub, and Elison Jackson -- to celebrate. Immediately afterwards we're doing a two-week tour. There will only be one or two Connecticut shows left, including our final show ever August 21st at the Space in Hamden. The record will still be available by mailorder through the Topshelf Records Online Store, but we will be officially broken up after that. If folks are into seeing us live, don't hesitate. There won't be many opportunities. And we're working hard to make sure The End is really special.