Do not call this killer trio a club
Published: February 22, 2012
Lorie and the co-worker started joking with her asking, "Well, what's black music?" "Music by black people!" the woman answered before storming out.
The song's context reflects Lorie's definition of the purpose of music. "[The song is] just about this idea that music is not just one thing, it's not one stereotypical thing, it's something for everybody," she says. "[Music] is universal ... in all of us."
Pewter Cub steps on stage at the Magic Stick Lounge, right before House Phone. The band offers little discourse, moving from one tune to the next, and they're received warmly.
This is about the music, and the progress this trio has made from its inception to right now is something. Lorie's vocal melodies hauntingly remain in the head; her voice sounds uncannily like that of Thalia Zedek of often overlooked bands Come and Live Skull, filled out with Sanford's well-fingered chops and Jennings' melody-supporting beats. Their sound is well-rounded and classic, winking at a time when indie had more class and recognition, and wasn't spread so thin and trivialized, when songs weren't just an excuse to load and unload a van.
And it's "Cub," not "Club."
Pewter Cub's Regan Lorie picks her five life-changing records
Kraftwerk — Computerwelt: Me, my brother and sister were raised on the Electrifying Mojo show and he played Kraftwerk constantly. When my brother was in the Army stationed in Germany he brought home a German pressing (yellow vinyl!) of this record. To this day I can't listen to it in English.
Prince — (self-titled): I remember hearing this record for the first time and asking my mom why the lady on the cover had a moustache and a hairy chest. Prince was something completely new, defying race, gender, genre ... he's like a musical superhero. Completely woke me up.
The Beatles — 1962-1966: I was 12 the first time I really heard the Beatles. "Eleanor Rigby" was playing in my dad's LeBaron on one of his AM Gold stations. I remember begging him to take me to Aspen Records, where I bought the only Beatles tape they had, and promptly wore it the hell out.
Babes in Toyland — Spanking Machine: The Babes were my teenage heroines. They were the first band that really drove home the fact that girls were out there teaching themselves guitar and starting bands, and that this really was something anyone could do, even me.
The Chameleons — Script of the Bridge: This was one of those albums I discovered 20 years too late and was angry that I spent all those years without it ... and one of those lush, intricate records that inspires whatever beautiful noise is inside you. (And coincidentally, not long after I first met this record, Pewter Cub was born.)
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