The Chariot Feature From The Inlander

Southern Discomfort

The Chariot pulverizes audiences with a genteel air.

Among the hordes of sweat-soaked bodies at the Chariot’s live show at now-closed Spokane music venue the Blvd., I saw the group’s bassist prepare to heave himself into the crowd — directly at me — mid-song. Thankfully, I saw him coming, caught him, and pushed him back toward the stage, as any good concert-goer should.

However, I did not see Chariot frontman Josh Scogin. He came leaping off the stage from just outside my peripheral vision. A good portion of Scogin’s body was kept from falling to the floor by one thing: the crown of my unsuspecting head.

Days of pain and limited mobility later, I was informed by my chiropractor that I had a compressed joint in my lower back.

But after the show the Chariot put on? The pain and doctor’s bill was worth it.

The Georgia-based metalcore band has long been lauded for its intense live sets and with good reason — the Chariot is the best that the heavy “-core” (metalcore, hardcore) genres have to offer. But when the band is delivering its complex barrages of sound, Scogin says, they aren’t doing it from a place of aggression. He says it’s a physical release of their spiritual side.

“Our live shows are just an overflow of the passion within us,” he says. “Some of the things we’re saying in the lyrics and the reasons we’re playing — it’s more than ‘Let’s just go crazy!’ It’s a lot more about a bigger spiritual side.” Continue reading

Advertisements

Larry and His Flask Feature From The Inlander


Homegrown Hootenanny

Oregon-bred band Larry and His Flask grew a following in living rooms and basements

On the hot asphalt of our nation’s arena parking lots, the Warped Tour lives on. But as the festival has aged, the variety of the lineup has suffered. Band after band plays a similar brand of pop and punk and pop-punk tunes. But this summer, another sound poked through: a bluegrass sound filtered through the prism of punk that is Larry and his Flask.

As the group’s banjoist, Andrew Carew, explains, while few suburban youth came out to see the Flask, the band’s hooting-and-hollering and barn-storming live sets at least got their attention.

“It would start out with maybe 10 people watching and a bunch of people walking by,” says Carew. “And by the end of the 30-minute set, the crowd would’ve just grown exponentially. It was cool to see people opening up to our style and appreciating it.”

It wasn’t always this way. Larry and His Flask’s original sound could have gotten lost in the shuffle, as the group started as a traditional three-piece punk outfit in Bend, Ore. When the band’s first lineup fell apart in 2008, two of its members (brothers Jamin and Jeshua Marshall) weren’t ready to give up. To keep the music going, the brothers and a host of their friends began playing acoustic house shows.

“When we first started, there were originally, like, 10 or 11 people in the room playing,” says Carew. “We just started playing quieter music. Kinda went back to what we all grew up listening to, our parents’ music, and it evolved from there.” Continue reading