I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: BETHLEHEM STEEL-Audiotree Live, Chicago, (September 5, 2018).

It’s a little disappointing that Bethlehem Steel comes from Brooklyn and not Bethlehem (it’s a terrific name).  But the name describes their sound really well–especially if you have ever been to Bethlehem.

They describe themselves as an indie/alternative rock band whose sound pivots around anger and frustration with the current political climate. The project is primarily written by lead singer/guitarist Rebecca Ryskalczyk whose aggressive, experimental sensibilities push Bethlehem Steel’s punk roots into off-kilter pop territory.

In addition to Ryskalczyk, there’s also Christina Puerto on lead guitar, Jon Gernhart on drums and Patrick Ronayne on bass.

They play six songs.  I love Audiotree sessions.  The sound is always really good.  This one is a little odd though because there’s audience applause between songs.  I think later ones did not have that.

“Finger It Out” opens with some feedback and then a some fast chords as Ryskalczyk sings.  Her voice is a little low in the mix, but it works perfectly with the music.  There’s a  quieter middle section where Puerto plays a solo.  The end is just Rebecca singing over her guitar: “if I sit still, I can feel myself dying.”

“4 Aliens” starts slower with both Ryskalczyk  and Puerto singing the lyrics in close harmony.  I love the way the bassline intertwines with the Ryskalczyk’s guitar while Puerto adds a lead line over them both.  The middle part rocks out with some great harmonies from Puerto and another solo.

“Fig” opens with a cool fast riff and then pounding chords. It rocks out and segues nicely into “Florida 2” which tweaks feedback and quiet guitar and adds in crashing chords and drums.  I love before the solo that while Ryskalczyk plays chugging guitars the drums and bass add in this off-beat thumping rhythm.  Ryskalczyk plays a solo on this one too.

“Alt Shells” opens quietly with just Ryskalczyk’s guitar and voice.  This song rocks propulsively.  I really like in the middle when everyone plays a fast crescendo and the song seems to ratchet even faster.

“Untitled Entitlement” ends the set with a cool rumbling bass that is like Pixies “Gigantic” but a little diffident. Ryskalczyk took off the guitar and recites the lyrics while Puerto generates feedback.  The chorus is wonderfully aggressive with crashing cymbals and roaring guitars.  Ryskalczyk screams the lyrics.

The song ends with her a squall of noise and Ryskalczyk screaming

I know what it feels like to have someone else feel entitled to my body.  The only people who truly made me feel uncomfortable are  middle aged white men.  The fathers of my friends.

As the feedback fades she speaks clearly, “Stop letting your sons rape your daughters.”

The last seconds are more feedback and drums as Ryskalczyk screams stop handing out free murder until she has no breath left.

It’s pretty intense.

[READ: September 28, 2019] “The Fellow”

The narrator is the assistant director of the project with the important qualification that she was not afraid of water.  The guests (called The Fellows) weren’t supposed to be afraid of water either, but some lied.

Philip was her third Fellow.  The residency came with a small house that was on the other side of a small creek.  If it flooded, the way was impassable, but it hadn’t flooded in years.

Philip arrived with a dog.  The dog had “a melancholy air.”

She asked what the dog’s name was and Philip just replied angrily, “What?”

When the narrator said that The Fellows often remarked about how fast their time there went, Philip replied that’s preposterous, time never goes anywhere.

She left the house and the dog followed.  It had a look that seemed to question her very existence.  She showed the dog the breaks in the fence that he should avoid.  Unless, she joked, he was accompanied by a person.

“You mean like Philip,” he said, though of course he couldn’t have.

It rained for several days and the creek became impassable.  She called Philip but he did not answer the phone.

The next day the creek had abated and Philip’s car was gone.

She knocked and entered but only the dog was there. There was no sign of Philip or any of his things.

She thinks of a poem by Craig Arnold (I don’t know which one) and while she is thinking of it, the dog says “Oh I know that one.”

The narrator needs to lay down but the dog continues talking about how it remembers when it died over and over again.

Things get even more bizarre and less satisfying as it goes along from there.