Lost Vegas

Combustible Edison, plus the Sheila Divine

Cellars by Starlight by Brett Milano

There was a time when Combustible Edison were the ultimate oddball band. Some 10 years ago, when co-founders Michael Cudahy and Liz Cox (a/k/a the Millionaire and Miss Lily Banquette, on guitar and percussion/vocals, respectively) began performing their "Tiki Wonder Hour" at the Rat, it was something of a last-ditch gesture: their rock band Christmas were about to crash and burn after a failed major-label deal. They'd recently developed a crush on Las Vegas while on tour, and they were sick of pretending that they'd rather listen to punk rock than Henry Mancini. With the Rat serving umbrella drinks for the first and only time, those shows were an attempt to see how uncool one could possibly get. Spearheading a trend was the last thing on the minds of Cudahy and Cox -- they were satisfied not to get laughed at.

So it's a major irony that Combustible Edison wound up anticipating the '90s vogue for retro-chic. But if this is cult stardom, Cudahy wants his money back. "We felt like aliens when we had a rock band," he acknowledges from his Providence apartment. "And now that this revival has come to pass, I don't feel at home either. The last thing I want to do is complain about our fans, because there's nothing more annoying than watching people do that. But I remember one show in Seattle three years ago, where one guy was raving about how much he loved the show, except he said, 'You played one song that wasn't really '50s.' And I'm thinking, 'Oh my God, I hope that's not what we are.' That whole concept of camp and kitsch is something we actively despise. Even someone like Ed Wood, who's considered a kitsch classic because of the ineptitude of his production -- to me that guy was a true pop-culture expressionist. I don't consider it camp. I consider it overwhelming and heartfelt."

Fact is, Combustible's vision was always a little darker than people figured. Going beyond the usual Rat Pack nostalgia, they were the first to admit that their ideal swinger's paradise didn't really exist. Hence the title of their new album, The Impossible World (Sub Pop) -- and for that matter, the album itself. It's the first time they've shaken (not stirred) up their usual formula: instead of evoking the tropical breeziness of Martin Denny or the hipster swagger of Mancini, they filter it all through a dense electronic mix (courtesy of UK DJ Scanner) that adds an air of cool detachment to the proceedings (though it makes the less successful moments sound like Stereolab outtakes). Creepier at times than previous Combustible outings, it also has the least to do with retro-swing -- an obvious commercial move this ain't.

"It's a concept album if you will, about this hopeless quixotic quest we've been on," Cudahy explains. "When we first started this band, we felt disgraced by being in the pop-music business. We thought we'd lose all our friends for even doing this. We felt the same way making this record, that we might alienate anybody who's bought one of our records before. I felt like Coppola making Apocalypse Now, where he was never the same person after he came back from the desert. And of course, Jesus was never the same after he went into the desert . . . and you better stop me now before I compare myself to Jesus again."

But Cudahy really did go into the desert -- the Vegas desert, that is, where the band relocated in 1989-'90. And for him the experience was like a combination of two of his favorite movies: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and, uh, Showgirls. "That was a brilliant film because it was totally immersed in the Vegas aesthetic. Fear and Loathing was more like my experience there, just reeling in terror. We lived there a year and a half, and I still have a love/hate relationship with the place -- it's crass and venal and unapologetic, but now it's hypocritical as well. The old Vegas was a sin-city playground for adults only, where every vice was catered to elegantly. But now it's going for a family kind of appeal. God knows what they're trying to do. I used to find it fascinating because it was the heart of America stripped of all the civilizing European influence -- America's ultimate destiny. We knew it wasn't going to be like the Sands in '62, but it was more of a giant shopping mall."

So they learned that the real Vegas isn't as much fun as a fake one. And they'll try to approximate the latter for their CD-release party a week from Friday (October 16). Extending their usual habit of playing non-rock spots, they'll hold the gig at the Chau Chow City Ballroom, on Essex Street in Chinatown. There'll also be Hawaiian music from the Pineapple Ranch Hands and accordion/theremin duets from the Electric Logs. Mai tais and dim sum will be available. Consider it a corner of the desert remade in the band's eclectic image.

Recently Cudahy's been working on a lower-profile musical project: he's enrolled part-time at Berklee, where he just wrapped up his freshman year after two summers' worth of work. "I've worked it all out -- if I go every summer I'll graduate in 2006, just in time to retire. I'm self-taught, and you know how it is with a rock band, you can start one six months after you pick up a guitar. I got by for 10 years knowing only three chords. Now I want to learn the vocabulary, because you can't write novels if you can't spell."

How's Cudahy fitting in at Berklee?

"There's definitely some jazz snobbery there, and a big metal contingent. Maybe one or two people there have any idea of what I do, and I've never discussed it much. But one time I brought in a tape I'd made for a class project, and the teacher said, 'That sounds like Henry Mancini.' I said, 'Right on.' "

SHEILA DIVINE

Say one thing for the Sheila Divine, they got their record contract the old-fashioned way: by sneaking their demo into the label owner's tape machine. It happened last year, when they were invited to the CherryDisc Christmas party. Singer/guitarist Aaron Perrino simply slipped into label owner John Horton's office and cued up the tape. The strategy worked, and that demo -- recorded only three months after the band's formation -- is now the bulk of their Sheila Divine CherryDisc EP. The full-length debut is due early next year.

The CherryDisc caper was definitely the work of a confident band, and so is the EP: these guys are reaching hard enough for passion and grandeur that they're willing to risk sounding pretentious. "The Amendment" is structured like a U2 ballad -- it's a gradually building tune with a falsetto voice rising above piano chords. Otherwise, there are enough big guitars to keep things from getting precious. The sound is unusually large for a three-piece, and the spotlight tends to fall on Perrino's voice. He's got a grand, theatrical way of singing that's seldom been fashionable on the garage circuit. But then, the Sheila Divine have no desire to be a garage band.

"We're shying away from that fast-guitar-distortion thing," Perrino says. "We're just coming into our own as far as playing together and knowing what each other is going to do, so we're working more with little bits and quieter parts. It's a lot easier, when you're just starting, to flip the distortion pedal and just rock out."

He isn't afraid to reveal that a lot of his musical inspiration comes from sources more uncool than the disc might suggest. "A lot of bad '80s rock, except I don't think it's that bad -- I love all those one-hit wonders like the Dream Academy and Mighty Lemon Drops."

The band were on the road last week, enduring the ups and downs of their first national tour. "We've done a lot of playing for 10 people in places like West Virginia. But then we played Brownies in New York and it was amazing: there were a lot of industry people there, and we happened to be on that night. I've been wanting to tour forever, but now I know how much driving and frustration is involved. I didn't realize how un-rock and roll it really is." They'll be back home for a show at Mama Kin with Star Ghost Dog this Friday.

COMING UP

It's Curve of the Earth time at the Middle East tonight (Thursday), with Verago-go and Tim (Roadsaw) Catz's pop group Honeyglazed both debuting new albums upstairs. Also tonight, DJ Spooky performs downstairs at the Middle East, zydeco king Boozoo Chavis is at Johnny D's, Better Than Ezra are at Avalon, Sinéad Lohan and Jude are at Mama Kin, Mr. Airplane Man are at Toad, and Al Copley is at the House of Blues . . . Tomorrow (Friday), it's the no longer "Royal" Amazing Crowns at Karma Club, Betwixt supporting their fab new album at the Lizard Lounge, Man . . . or Astroman?'s Clone Project at the Middle East, and ex-Alarmer Mike Peters at T.T. the Bear's Place with Hub Moore and Chick Graning opening . . . On Saturday, Cherry 2000 have a disc-release party at the Middle East with a bunch of guests including Star Ghost Dog, Tom Leach, and members of Fuzzy and Vic Firecracker, Four Piece Suit are at the Lizard, and the Push Stars are at Karma Club . . . Mighty New Orleans rockers Cowboy Mouth are at the Paradise Tuesday . . . And on Wednesday it's soul legend Clarence Carter at Johnny D's, ex-Television guitar hero Tom Verlaine at the Middle East, and a killer double bill of Mike Watt and Scrawl at T.T.'s.