Us and them

The odds are good you've never heard of Guster (who were called Gus until they discovered nine other Guses vying for the copyright) -- unless you're part of the college/suburban audience that's packed their gigs and bought 12,000 copies of their CD, Parachute (produced by Mike Denneen and released two years ago on Rhythmic). Formed at Tufts University when all three members were juniors (they graduated last May), Guster are living proof that one can bypass the usual channels -- Boston radio, local press, the Middle East and T.T.'s -- and build a following among a usually untapped market.

"I hate to use the word `grassroots' because it evokes images of Phish and the Grateful Dead," notes singer/guitarist Ryan Miller. "We started out like everybody else, jamming in the dorm room writing songs, and our first gig was at the Black Rose. People started getting our album and giving it to their friends, and by our senior year we were doing more touring than going to college. We didn't realize that 12,000 copies was good until people started telling us, `Hey, you've sold a lot of albums.' "

The Avalon show is the next step up, since they've sold out the Paradise and Mama Kin in recent months. "This isn't us renting the room and sucking it up," Miller points out. "We're booked by Pretty Polly, and we've had a good relationship with Don Law for the past couple of years. But we're very much a word-of-mouth thing. We've developed a lot of secondary markets between Maine and DC, and a lot of them are going to be roadtripping to the show on Saturday." They've also built their business by enlisting "Guster reps," fans of the band who are enlisted for free to sell copies of the CD on campus.

It's a safe bet that a chunk of Guster's audience is still the collegiate crowd that's followed Phish and other hippie-jam outfits. And Guster would seem an unlikely candidate for that audience -- in part because their style is so different. This is no jam band but a harmony-driven trio whose instrumental line-up consists of two acoustic guitarists (Miller and Adam Gardner) and one bongo player (Brian Rosenworcel). And unlike jamming bands who rotate hours' worth of material at gigs, Guster have a repertoire of about two dozen songs, half of which are on the CD and the rest of which are likely for the follow-up.

My own copy of Parachute has been sitting untouched since a perfunctory spin when it arrived, so I dug out the disc after the interview and gave it another shot. And I had the same reaction I'd had first time around: I don't get it. Specifically, I don't get what 12 people would find exciting about this band, much less 12,000.

Unless you really get off on mediocre pop groups who take themselves way too seriously, that is. What I hear on the disc is an overload of polish and an underload of content. The Gusters have learned to do harmonies and they've learned to do acoustic arrangements that aren't overly thin. They just haven't learned to write anything that justifies the effort. Their lyrics ring with that freshman-English quality of sensitive guys who've just started to learn that the world is complicated ("Where is the boy/So happy to be near it all/He's lost in the shadow/In a little piece of me so small"). And there's a self-righteous tone in the vocals that seems to insist these are deep thoughts you're hearing. The music here is lightweight enough to make Machinery Hall sound like Slughog, which might be excusable if any of their hooks or melodies were halfway memorable.

Making matters worse, they evidently balance the earnestness on stage with cutesy-poo humor. Miller mentions that they've done covers of unlikely hits (Nine Inch Nails' "Down in It" and a Lionel Richie medley), and that they're planning to have exaggerated arena-rock trappings (smoke machines and a "flaming skeleton banner") at the Avalon show. Trouble is, both kinds of jokes have been overplayed for years: Top 40 covers are always an easy way to get attention, and the metal send-ups have always been an easy way for acoustic bands to say, "Look, mom, we're acoustic." True, I haven't yet seen Guster pull either stunt, but the dumb photo in the concert ads of the band in disco suits is enough to make one fear the worst.

At least Miller doesn't pretend that Guster are anything they're not. "We're wuss rock," he says frankly. "We're not a loud pop band like Letters to Cleo or Buffalo Tom."

Why the acoustic setting?

"Because it works. We weren't trying to do something unconventional, but it happened this way and it worked. If we added a drum kit, for example, it would overshadow what Brian's doing on percussion. When we started, people asked if we wanted stools to sit on, but we're about as far from folk as you can get. I like to think we're pushing the limits of our instruments." (Hate to bring this up, but there are other acoustic-guitarists out there -- Richard Thompson, Neil Young -- who've pushed those limits considerably further.)

Saturday's show isn't going to be a showcase for a major-label deal, because Guster aren't sure they want or need one. "I don't know if we want to go that route," Miller says. "The majors at this stage can just fuck you up. There are other bands who've waited: Toad the Wet Sprocket, Dave Matthews. Things are going so well at the business end of our lives right now that we may just keep this going."

THE NINES

After a handful of singles, the Nines make their CD debut with the six-song mini-album Hi Fi Lo Mein (Clamarama); they'll celebrate with a gig at Mama Kin tomorrow (Friday). If you liked the Voodoo Dolls you'll like this, though the Nines don't have exactly the same sound. Whereas the Voodoo Dolls would proudly own up to the garage-band tag, the Nines are closer to a classic-model pop group, putting a bit more emphasis on the tunes than the backbeat. EP producer Drew Townson accents those leanings, bringing out the four-part harmonies without turning the guitars too far down.

"When we started out, we definitely sounded like the Voodoo Dolls without Cam," Shore admits. "But I think we've found our own sound now. Having four people who can sing helped push us in a direction. One thing I think distinguishes the Nines from the Voodoo Dolls is that we can play slow, we can bring it down and then bring it way back up again. The Voodoo Dolls couldn't bring it down at all, so our shows were like one endless song. People liked us, but I think that they saw us once and got the picture."

Still, Shore admits that getting re-established hasn't been easy -- especially since their last gig was a Clamarama showcase at the Middle East that ended early because nobody had shown up.

"Well, there was a lot going on that night. We were up against Frank Black, and Crown Electric Company was across the street [at the Phoenix Landing]. Sure, it was easier in the Voodoo Dolls, where our third show was opening for the Ramones, but you learn to play your best, whether or not there's people there. There were also times in the Voodoo Dolls where we played to nobody; we even drove to Baltimore to play to nobody. By now we're real good at playing to nobody."

There's no wasted time on the Nines' CD, only one of whose songs passes the three-minute mark (and that not by much). Shore specializes in catchy, upbeat songs about getting dumped by one's girlfriend, though for variety's sake the EP leads off with "I Can't Keep It a Secret," a catchy, upbeat song about not getting dumped by one's girlfriend.

"That's our garage roots coming out," Shore says. "Like, how many garage songs have you heard with the word `lies' in the title? That's what I hated about the grunge revolution: the songs had to have deep meanings all the time, never mind whether they had melodies. For us, the melody is the most important thing; the second most important is that the band kicks your ass." Give 'em a chance and the Nines will do just that.

COMING UP

The Simple Machines label brings most of its roster to T.T.'s on Saturday; Liquorice (featuring Jenny Toomey of the on-hiatus Tsunami) headline, but show up early for Southern songwriter Danielle Howle. Meanwhile, the good ol' Lyres are at the Middle East, Ronnie Earl's at the House of Blues, Underball are at the Linwood, and the Galactic Cowboys become the first Christian metal band with four-part harmonies to play the Rat . . . Velocity Girl had recovered from their sophomore slump when they last hit town; they're back at Mama Kin (with Fuzzy, who've avoided that slump entirely) on Sunday. Also, Sunday the Middle East Downstairs hosts a benefit for Willie Alexander (who's recuperating from a broken elbow) with Reeves Gabrels, Slide, Crown Electric, Lars Vegas, videos, poetry readings, and more . . . Surfin' madmen Los Straitjackets play the Hard Rock Café's Cavern Club on Monday . . . And ace songwriter Jon Svetkey plays Johnny D's on Wednesday.