Mustard Puts Out

At the Longbranch Saturday night, Mustard played an old Fleetwood Mac song that included the line, "Don't ask me what I think of you, because I might not give the answer that you want me to." Or something to that effect. And I thought it quite fitting, since Mustard was one of the first bands to request a "Put up or shut up" from Metro Pulse—our new challenge where local musicians request us to review a CD or show, and we do, with complete honesty. Lucky for them, Zippy completely dug Mustard.

It is a tight three-piece band lead by Chris Cook, playing two guitars and drums on most songs. Live the group has a loose punchiness. A friend described them as a "young Tom Petty with a sense of humor." The music has more of an edge than Petty, but it borrows as much from good old garage rock 'n' roll as it does from '90s indie guitar bands.

On their tape, 2-1/2, the group has more of a smarty pants feel to it, � la Beck or Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. The tape opens with a man saying, "We will first learn the rhythm for raunchy," before launching into "Sheet the Bed."

Lyrically, the band treads over the same ground as many '90s rock groups, evoking disdainful irony, slacker contempt and self-loathing. Sample these lyrics from "Who Cares (Split Hairs)": I hate sports/ I hate TV/ and I hate football/ and I don't dig UT/ and I don't hunt, I don't even fish/ and I've got only one rainy wish: [in an angry whisper] who cares/ split hairs.

But it's all in good fun. And just like Todd Steed, there's enough local references to make you feel at home. There was a song about Powell, called "Roly-poly" and the irreverent "Ain't Nothing Wrong With Honky Pride." I can't wait to hear more.

Mustard was followed at the Longbranch by The Come Ons, of which Metro Pulse's Dugan Broadhurst is a member; therefore, it would be a conflict of interest for us to tell you that they kick ass.

Local (?) CD Review

Couple weeks ago, I got The Moonshine Cherrys [sic] self-titled CD in the mail, along with a snazzy flyer informing the world that they were from Knoxville. Odd, thought I. That name rings no bells with me, or, as it turns out, anyone in the office. So we sent the Metro Pulse team of scouring interns (like scrubbing bubbles, yet different) into the archives and the library and the Internet in order to discover if these Cherrys really were from Knoxville or if we were just being pulled into an elaborate PR scheme.

As it turns out, Zippy should be less of a cynic. While the Cherry's aren't exactly from Knoxville, two of the three did go to UT. And they actually grew up just down the road in Maryville. The band had been known as South 333 and got to open for the Marshall Tucker Band the last time Tuck and the boys were in town. The Cherrys will be having a local release party on Saturday, June 12 at the Campus Pub from 9-10 p.m. We gave the disc a spin, while we were still pondering the true origins of the band.

The album is straight-up rock seemingly inspired by a concoction of '80s metal, Southern rock and groovy jam bands. Paul Beasley does a decent job with lead guitar, and David Blair is precise on drums. Unfortunately, the vocals of songwriter, bassist Ted Thomas grated on Zippy—they're piercingly overwrought, and yet don't carry the emotional weight the lyrics imply. Still, he manages a difficult phrasing and timing, demonstrated on, among others, "Sweet Baby Jane."

The lyrics veer toward the sappy: For crying out loud/ Always one step from falling off the edge/ Tightrope walking on an icy ledge/ My radar's buzzin'/ My warnings flashin'/ I'm driving faster to keep from crashin'/ I keep on swerving/ I'm going just by feel/ One eye open/ Both hands on the wheel...

The indulgence of it is reinforced by the guitar solos. Thomas tells us how he feels but can't really show us, or give us any details to help us feel it too: we've all heard the cliché of being on the edge, but what the heck does that really mean, and how is Thomas's personal edge (or ledge) any different than our own edges, and why should we care if he steps over? I don't mean to sound callous, but everyone has their demons and worries, and until Thomas can clue me in on what exactly his are, there'll be no identification.

But the band has a sense of glee in its playing, and this is rock 'n' roll after all, not ground-breaking art. Fun to dance to in a bar, or get drunk too. Still, it would be nice if the band either had something to say or just didn't pretend that it did.

Bigshot Hollywood Producer

If you are an 18-22 year old singer/actor, Bruckheimer Films, big-budget producer Jerry Bruckheimer's baby, will be holding a casting call just for you for the film Coyote Ugly at Nashville's Douglas Corner Café (2106 8th Ave. South) on Saturday, June 12 from 11 a.m. until 2 p.m. Bring a recent non-returnable photo and prepare a 30-second song. Oh, and guys need not apply. Also, do not call the café to ask for further info. Trust me on this one.

The Week: Quick and Dirty

Thursday: Audio Poolside at Bird's Eye View. AP and company will have an A&R rep scouting them from the audience for this gig. Come on out and make a lot of noise.

Friday: Yamagata at Manhattan's. Memphis music must see.

Saturday: Erotic Masquerade Ball at Lava Lounge. Features Pegasi51, all of the fetish-wear you can stand, and spankings.

Sunday: Vandermark 5 at Tomato Head. Avant jazz—it's what's for dinner.

Monday: Women by Women at The Candy Factory. Art by and for the estrogen-enhanced, suitable, as well, for the estrogen-challenged.

Tuesday: Donald Brown at Lucille's. Just because.

Wednesday: Always...Patsy Cline at Clarence Brown Theatre. Always...a fun show.

—Zippy "I want Ben Folds Five" McDuff