When My Burning Airlines Concert Preview Crashed and Burned

I've been digging around in my archives lately in a futile attempt to locate a nice little write-up I did several months ago about the veteran L.A. band the Radar Bros. Their day-dreamy psychedelic music has long been a summer companion, and so I thought the short piece deserved a home here while summer is still upon us. Thus far, the archaeological dig into my archives, which has encompassed thousands of files and folders across two computers, a server and a portable drive, has uncovered no trace of the piece. But I'm not giving up yet. It's a decent chunk words, and I seldom say that about my own writing. All this searching hasn't been for nothing, though, because I managed to unearth an unpublished story from 2001, which I thought was lost forever in a cyber landfill of another dimension. And yet here it is, all 500 words of it. It's not a remarkable story -- it's just a short concert preview/interview featuring a long-defunct indie rock band called Burning Airlines. What makes it somewhat significant to me is the reason why the piece was never published: 9/11. 

The Burning Airlines story was originally written as the centerpiece of my weekly club concert column for the Friday edition of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. I filed the column on September 10. The next day, four hijacked passenger planes ... you know the rest. Cut to September 12 and my editor calls me to say that, for obvious reasons, he couldn't possibly publish a concert preview of a band called Burning Airlines. I didn't argue; I would have killed the story myself; but in those days I was so burned out on writing that I didn't think I could muster the energy it would take to draft a new column in just a few hours. I don't remember who replaced Burning Airlines in my revised column ... it's not important. 

So now that you know the story, I give you my Burning Airlines piece, almost 13 years later. If you don't recall Burning Airlines, you may remember the band emerged from the wreckage of Jawbox with guitarists/vocalists J. Robbins and Bill Barbot. Here's the story:

Burning Airlines Give You So Much More

By Joe Ehrbar
Special to the P-I

When Burning Airlines first rolled off the assembly line in 1998, guitarist/vocalist J. Robbins, along with bassist/vocalist Bill Barbot and drummer/vocalist Pete Moffett had no intention of ever departing the basement. Burning Airlines would not be a full-blown punk rock carrier.

            That’s because Robbins and Barbot had just come off an exhausting seven-year run with Jawbox, the beloved Washington, D.C. post-hardcore band they co-founded in 1990. Having made a number of solid recordings, toured the world several times over, and punched the clock for three years and two albums with Atlantic Records, earning themselves a small, but loyal following in the process, Jawbox simply ran out of steam. Its members were eager to unplug and get on with their lives.

            So when Robbins, Moffett and Barbot convened in the Jawbox’s old practice space, their idea was to simply make music. They had no intentions of sharing their results with an audience.

            It didn’t quite work out that way.

            The low-key arrangement allowed the band greater freedom to explore new sonic destinations they were otherwise unable to in Jawbox—largely because commercial pressures stifled that band creative pursuits. Yet the project had become something bigger than mere basement noodling; it was a viable endeavor.

           Taking their name from the Brian Eno song “Burning Airlines Give You So Much More,” Burning Airlines, who play Graceland with Rival School and Actionslacks on Wednesday (7 p.m.;$10), started slowly, cautiously, initially making short hops around D.C. and other East Coast cities, before venturing farther. In early 1999, the band’s first full-length manifest “Mission: Control!” was released, detailing Burning Airlines’ rapid artistic ascent and revealing the band to be a sturdier, sleeker, more versatile version of Jawbox.

            “I think Burning Airlines is a lot different than Jawbox, but in my mind a lot of my concerns are obviously the same,” Robbins said in a phone interview last week. “So it’s sort of an ongoing project in that way.”

            Now, three years, two albums and one personnel change (bassist Mike Harbin replaced a departing Barbot) later, it would seem Robbins and company are giving audiences a hell of ride. The proof is in their newest CD travel log “Identikit” (DeSoto), a highly stylized display of intensity, precision and sophistication, one characterized by seismic rhythms, white-knuckle time changes, angular riffs, robust vocal melodies and guitar crescendos, and lots of thorny dissonance.

            “I feel like the two Burning Airlines records have carried on very much in the (Jawbox) spirit of wanting to reach,” said Robbins. “Maybe we’ve gotten better at being adventuresome and at integrating it into a kind of live feeling.

            “The thing I keep going back to whenever we’re putting songs together are the melodies and changes,” the frontman continued. “And usually if those are in place then we do things around the changes. Things can get pretty rich around the changes and take on a life of their own and still keep the essence of what those changes are. In my mind it’s pretty fun to see how far afield you can go from just carrying on underneath the vocal and instead do something more interesting with the instruments.”

           As Robbins says, Burning Airlines may deviate from course, but for passengers it makes for a thrilling adventure.

My 2009 Hit List (part 2)

At last: Numbers 6–10 of...
The Top 10 Best Records/CDs/MP3s I Heard This Year (That You May or May Not Have) That Weren’t Necessarily Released This Year (Oh, and I Only Have Five to Share Right Now)

6. Fucked Up The Chemistry of Common Life (Matador LP)
This is one of the most invigorating records I’ve heard. If the band's moniker wasn't so juvenile, I bet more people would bask in the radiant fury of Fucked Up’s hardcore assault. Fucked Up is different from all the hardcore bands out there because they refuse to be handcuffed to its clichés. Sure all the hallmarks are present: adrenalized riffs, muscular sound, gruff vocals, punishing rhythms. But Fucked Up is more imaginative—and progressive. They have chops and can venture beyond the old 4/4 and are unafraid to deviate from formula: witness the moody ambient instrumentals or the use of congas and flute. Fucked Up also believe in song craft—they understand passion and conviction are wasted if the music isn’t memorable. And so what we get are 11 incredible chapters that comprise a sweeping epic. If you’ve yet to be consumed by the tidal onslaught of The Chemistry of Common Life, then do something positive for your personal well-being: Download the album’s explosive title track from iTunes (or someplace like that). Spend a buck. If “Chemistry” ain’t the accelerant you need to get you going, have someone call a paramedic for you.

7. Mastodon Crack the Skye (Warner Bros. LP)
My wife hates this album. She won’t let me play it in the car, in the house, or anywhere in her presence. She just doesn’t like metal, and she’s bemused that I do. So naturally, I kept Crack the Skye mostly confined to my iPod. No matter. Crack the Skye is Mastodon’s most overtly accessible album—it’s also the band’s most rewarding. Much of this can be attributed to Brendan O’Brien’s production as well as the band’s embrace of melody. Sure Mastodon unleash their vengeful wrath, but instead of simply setting you alight with a holy hellfire of molten riffs and roaring vocals, they keep you in their grips with melodic singing and stunning guitar heroics. My favorite track—and quite possibly my top song of the year—is the climactic sixth song, the title track, which features bassist/vocalist Troy Sanders and Neurosis’s Scott Kelly sharing lead vocals, simultaneously guiding the almighty Mastodon through the depths of hell and up toward the heavens, before physics rip their vessel apart, exploding it into nothingness.

8. Jawbox For Your Own Special Sweetheart (Dischord/DeSoto LP)
I don’t get all that nostalgic about the records I listened to at various periods in my life—especially those from the early/mid-1990s. As much as 2009 sucked, the yesteryears were far worse. So you might think I’d be apprehensive, then, to return vicariously to the scene of the crime by reacquiring the sounds that filled my miserable days of yore. Not so with Jawbox’s For Your Own Special Sweetheart. This album represented the D.C. band’s major label debut for Atlantic Records; and although the single “Savory” drew some airplay on MTV, the album didn’t do much commercially and eventually went out of print. Fifteen years later, Sweetheart is now in the hands of Dischord/DeSoto—the labels that launched Jawbox in 1989. It’s been given a new cover and an outstanding remaster from Bob Weston that’s fattened the bottom end, and is now ready for a new generation to gush over. I enjoyed this record in 1994, but I love it even more now. Sweetheart is crafty yet direct, maniacal yet restrained—it’s a noisy, melodic beast, one that bares its teeth of seething discontent but is not so angry and uptight to not offer some compassion and pleasure. Likewise, Jawbox temper their caterwauling guitars, lunging rhythms and sharp percussive jabs and bruising thumps with some delicious hooks (sorry for saying delicious). A solid, solid piece of work.

9. Cedric Im Brooks Cedric Im Brooks and the Light of Saba (Honest Jon’s 2-LP)
I’ve listened to a lot of reggae over the years, but I hadn't heard Cedric Im Brooks before November. And what a discovery. Brooks, who plays saxophone, led one a most unique Jamaican combos, one which drew from a variety of sources to arrive at its ecstatic inspiration: roots, rock steady, dub, nyabinghi, calypso, Afrobeat and free jazz—yes, free jazz. Brooks spent some time in the 1960s in Philadelphia seeking influence from John Coltrane among others. He got it all right and brought it back to Jamaica. No, you’re not likely to discern any Coltrane signatures in Brooks’ work. His approach sounds more like Sun Ra. It’s cosmic reggae and this anthology succeeds in creating a nice, clear portrait of the little-known virtuoso.

10. Donald Byrd Electric Byrd (BlueNote LP)
When Miles Davis got all high on electric jazz with In a Silent Way and Bitches Brew, lots of other jazzbos began toking from the same pipe. This is hard-bopper Donald Byrd’s contribution to the new vibration. I hadn’t heard this gem until this year, when I picked up a vinyl reissue of the 1970 album at a record shop. There is some wonderful stuff to trip out on with the lights out; all psychedelic and weird and not one bit gimmicky. Hard to believe Byrd would eventually put down the trumpet to become a dance choreographer.

Honorable Mention: Dinosaur Jr. Farm (Jagjaguwar LP)
Didn’t think they had a good record left in them. And then they had to go and prove me wrong. I’m OK with that. Favorite track: Lou Barlow’s “Your Weather.”