A MOMENT WITH THE BELLRAYS
A MOMENT WITH THE BELLRAYS
Just a few songs into the BellRays' set, things are already falling apart. Which is good, because they're also coming back together again, in that teetering-on-the-edge way they do. “Things are hard, things are ha-ard, things are hard to be-LIEVE,” wails singer Lisa Kekaula – plush fat 'fro, tight black dress, high spike heels, great big voice – as Tony Fate's guitar keens, Craig Waters's drums rumble, and Bob Vennum's bass keeps the ominous “Stone Rain” on course. The punk-soul diva stalks the stage, seeking something she can only get from this crowd, right now.
“You don't have to wait for the headliner to let go,” Kekaula tells the curious Pixies fans gathering inside the Wiltern on June 2, as the SoCal quartet kicks off the first of two sold-out nights. “You know you wanna get loose, so let it out!” They set the example, plunging into the foreboding free-jazz chaos of “Poison Arrow,” and the people – not everybody, but an impressive number, considering that they're all just waiting for the Pixies – catch on. When the 35-minute set ends, many yell for more.
This is maximum rock 'n' soul, the gospel according to the BellRays: It's all about pursuing that elusive and sublime moment where the words and the music and the mood come together in an electrifying jolt that makes you gloriously aware of both infinity and your own mortality. Or something like that. It's hard to put into words, that breath-stealing shock – an instant of both witness and participation. But you'll know it when you feel it.
“On stage, even though we have a set list, we don't know what's gonna happen,” Kekaula says during an interview the next day at CityBeat World Headquarters. “It's the honesty of the moment – not just in the songs and what we're playing, but that time, that day, and that audience. They all play a part. And they only have that one time to do it. That's why we're fighting for them to make the best of it. 'Cause it's for all of us: not just for them, not just for us. We're all there together, sharing that one moment in time.”
Adds Vennum, “When we're really cooking, it's kind of a microcosm of the whole bigger thing that rock is about.” To the BellRays, the essence of rock 'n' roll is that give-and-take, that connection – the thing that too often gets obscured by formula, greed, or ambition. On their current album, The Red, White & Black, Kekaula writes of rock 'n' roll's “beautiful, enormous possibilities,” which to the BellRays involves expanding horizons by incorporating jazz, African rhythms, punk, and R&B into their music; exposing audiences to something unexpected; and creating an atmosphere that celebrates togetherness and encourages new ways of thinking.
The MC5 preached such things long ago, and the BellRays get that comparison a lot – not least because Kekaula has toured with the reconstituted DKT/MC5 (and will do so again this summer). But their allegiance to experimentation and the unpredictable communal experience links them to their Detroit-born punk ancestor more directly than the legions of “neo-rock” acts currently claiming the legacy.
“The thing that always attracted me to rock music was the element of surprise,” says Fate. Amid myriad modern distractions, he adds, artists have to make the “grand, hysterical gesture” just to be heard. “You've got so much Internet noise and media static to shout over, just to say, ‘I'm here,'” he says. The song “Street Corner” evokes that sense of mindless exchange, where everybody's talking and no one is listening.
Still, the BellRays, who've been around since the early '90s, are now being heard by more people than ever. English tastemaker Alan McGee signed them to his Poptones label (the U.K. home of the Hives); Kekaula sang on dance-music act the Basement Jaxx's Grammy-nominated single “Good Luck” (she'll perform with them at the Hollywood Bowl on July 17); and the jet-blast shimmy of “Revolution Get Down” is currently propelling a Nissan Xterra commercial.
Not that the BellRays are fixing to bust out the Pro Tools and smooth over their proudly rough edges. To them, good musicianship doesn't mean hitting notes the same way, night after night. They're aiming to make their work resonate beyond this moment. So, Fate insists, you gotta push the envelope.
“Sometimes it works, sometimes it's a train wreck,” he says. “That's the chance you take.”Published: 06/09/2005
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