FINESSE Ashby do what some other people have done - but better.
SINGING AGAIN Emily Grogan recalls the intensity of Poly Styrene, Patti Smith, and Corin Tucker.
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From the Rezillos to the La’s, pop history is full of bands who made one terrific album and then went missing. And it seemed the local duo Ashby were destined to join those ranks. Their mid-2001 Power Ballads (on the European label Marina) paired lush electronic soundscapes with ’60s-derived romance and melody, and it topped my list of the year’s local releases. But then nothing: no news, no gigs, no follow-up releases. It seemed one of Boston’s most promising bands had dropped off the face of the earth. "That’s just what we did," singer/keyboardist Evelyn Pope notes over a drink at the Druid in Inman Square. She’s married to Ashby’s other member, multi-instrumentalist Bill Cowie, and they complement each other: she writes and sings the songs; he arranges and orchestrates them. She’s more intuitive; he’s a perfectionist. She likes to perform; he likes to collect records and absorb pop trivia. And though there’s just the two of them, they think of Ashby as a rock band rather than a studio project. This month they break their four-year silence with Looks Like You’ve Already Won (also on Marina). Ashby aren’t the only band with a diverse set of ’60s references, or the only one doing a mash-up of natural and electronic sounds. But their writing and arranging shows unusual finesse. Looks Like You’ve Already Won reveals new layers of detail with each new listen; even a breezy-seeming track like the Brazilian-tinged "Troublemaker" weaves vibes, acoustic guitars, and a Stevie Wonder–ish clavinet into the mix while Pope duets with a lead flute. "Won’t Remember" has one of Pope’s loveliest choruses, but Cowie leaves the mix spare and the voice up front to underline its melancholy. The closing "Already Won" pulls their most reassuring ’60s Europop moves to offset the relationship dysfunction in the words. "That song’s saying, ‘I give up but I’m still strong,’ " Pope explains. "A lot of the songs were influenced by horrible New England winters, being stuck inside and needing to escape. And there are always good and bad days when you’re in a band with your partner." Cowie adds, "I thought that song was a statement of your own individuality, like you’re saying, ‘You do what you want and I’ll do what I want.’ I really like it when you write more personal lyrics." Even if she’s saying something nasty back to him? "Absolutely. There are so many great songs that say, ‘I love you but I hate you.’ We did some work on the lyrics together, but if there’s something not complimentary to me, then I don’t mind at all. As long as she watches that her s’s don’t hiss when she sings." Ashby have been active for the past four years: they just didn’t play live. "The label told us they weren’t sure about doing a second album," Cowie recalls. "We had already started one, so this was supposed to come out two years ago." Finally the label called back. "They told us, ‘We’ll probably lose money, but let’s do this one for art.’ I mean, they did pay us an advance, but we probably blew it all in a couple of weekends at Market Basket." Still, they’ve maintained a good living by doing music for commercials, and they just snagged one for Volkswagen. "I grew up with punk, and I can remember when it was anathema to even think about doing commercials," Cowie admits. "At least we get to do music that sounds like us. And everything’s on commercials now, like Joey Ramone dies and suddenly ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ is everywhere." Besides, the ad money afforded Ashby the time and the resources to make the second CD their way. Unlike the first, it has a handful of guest players, notably the LA-based Boston couple John Dragonetti and Blake Hazard. "We did 95 percent of the first one ourselves and nearly got divorced twice," Pope says. "So this time it was, ‘You have a horn part? Great!’ " "I think we were pigeonholed on the first album as some electronic act," Cowie continues, "so we wanted more organic sounds. I think our recordings reflect our subconscious desire to be a band — like anyone who hears them would think it’s four people kicking in at the same time. But there’s always been the question ‘If we did a live show, could it be as pristine as the albums?’ " Cowie’s studio perfectionism helps explain why Ashby don’t perform. Pope has been on stage a few times: she was Tanya Donelly’s keyboardist and back-up singer for her 2002 tour and then did a single gig on her own as part of the acoustic Monday-night series at T.T. the Bear’s Place. Cowie was lurking in the audience for that one. "I loved it, I really did. There were bum notes, but everyone there loved it too. And I was thinking I could even go on stage. I could play shaker. Very clinically." Emily Grogan says she almost called her new album Warrior Princess but then decided that would be too over the top. So the singer/guitarist went with a particular princess: Io (on One Way). Aside from reflecting her love of science ("Io" is computer language for "input/output"), the title has a mythological significance. "Io was a princess who got turned into a cow, and Prometheus told her that if she persevered, she would get turned back to her former self. That struck a chord." There’s nothing bovine about Grogan. But Io was made during a time of transformation, since she was ending a 12-year marriage. And it marks a return to the sound of her 2000 Emily Grogan solo, a homemade disc with sharp writing and avenging-fury vocals. Grogan sings with the intensity of female punk rockers from Poly Styrene to Patti Smith to Corin Tucker. Yet she’s made a local name for herself playing sax in Red Chord and bass with Heidi Saperstein. Only now has she gotten back to concentrating on guitar and voice. When she was 18, she dropped out of Berklee to play punk rock. "I always thought of myself as a musician, never really as a singer," she explains over coffee at the 1369 Coffeehouse in Inman Square. "Even when I did the first album, I had doubts about whether I could sing. So I enjoyed doing something like Red Chord." What led her back to performing solo with guitar? "Somebody [Brooks Whelan of One Way] offered me money. And maybe I was finding my power center as a singer. It’s a release of natural emotions. I believe people are naturally imperfect, so being angry is a waste of time. But if I’m singing about pain or loss or change, maybe people can relate to that." Io doesn’t play like a textbook divorce album — rather than spill her guts, Grogan goes with the theme of impending change, often in abstract ways. One tune (repeated from the debut CD) is about the formation of uranium. "I’ve always thought science was beautiful. There’s as much in the songs about changes in the culture, how hard Boston has become for families. But yeah, a lot of the songs were written before my ex and I knew it was over. I was being the eternal optimist, saying everything would be all right, and meanwhile I’m writing lyrics like ‘It’s the final drag of your life.’ " Grogan is now gigging in two bands. She’s supporting Io with a foursome who play Toad on July 20 and August 3. And she’s formed the band Angeline with singer/guitarist Linda Viens and roots-rock figures Asa Brebner (on bass), Billy Beard (drums), and Steve Sadler (guitars). "Kind of funny. I used to hate the idea of playing rootsy stuff, and here I am doing it." Emily Grogan | Toad, 1912 Mass Ave, Cambridge | July 20 + August 3 | 617.497.4950
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