Thursday, February 20, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Music: Shaken and stirred

Stillhaven mixes its music up

By Brock Radke

There is probably no greater or more enjoyable way for a music writer to wield the small amount of power he has than by labeling a band with a simple, contrived formula. You've seen it done tons of times: "Morrissey + Fugazi = Thursday," or "Radiohead + Nirvana = The Vines," just to sample a few from music mags.

Rarely does a new band present a formula for you. Even more infrequently are the bands in the equation diametrically opposed.

Try this one: Tool + Dave Matthews Band = What the fuck? Or, to spice it up a little more, toss in some Parliament Funkadelic, a bit of Glassjaw, a dash of Smashing Pumpkins and a pinch each of Tower of Power, Led Zeppelin and Bach. Why not?

Mix it all up and get Stillhaven, a strange assortment of Henderson-area kids who have been playing few shows but creating big buzz with an original sound. It's still rock, but everything after that is a little harder to label.

"We like to brainstorm," says guitarist Tony Carboney. "We don't really listen to the radio. We don't like it. If you don't have something original, you don't really have anything that's worth anything. What we like to do is say, `Wouldn't if be cool if?' and make songs out of those ideas."

Those songs run longer and are far more complex than the typical four-minute, radio-dominating punk rock tune. The beats are groove-heavy, the basslines are overactive and barely controlled, and the guitars are either sonically jarring or ring with tension. It's all topped off by a two-vocalist front, neither of which does anything resembling rapping. Assisting Carboney are drummer Louie Mendez, bassist Mike Figueroa and singers Justin Bridges and Leech, all too young to buy a drink at the bars they've played at.

Bridges, Carboney and Mendez were among the original members of Haven, "a punk-grunge garage band that only existed to pretend to be Nirvana," says Carboney. When Figueroa and Leech joined, priorities changed. "There were a ton of songs that had never been played, and we kind of teamed up to help throw them out," says Figueroa, designated as the most musically educated member. "The songs were mediocre, and I knew the guys weren't playing up to what I knew they could do."

Haven changed to Stillhaven when one of the bazillion bands called Haven signed a record deal. Stillhaven played four well-attended concerts at the now-defunct Castle, and helped reopen the Huntridge in November. The band recently made its first out-of-state appearance at Club Lush in Santa Monica.

The relatively small number of shows and exposure (no website, not even a page on lvlocalmusicscene.com) makes any buzz even more impressive. "Other than when we're playing a show, I feel like we don't exist," Mendez says. "We want to get out there more."

Stillhaven's biggest obstacle, it seems, other than being a bunch of kids with no money, is the band's own tendency to get locked up in its own creativity. While each member of the quintet clearly blends his contributions with dramatic results, none worries about what the others are doing.

"I couldn't even tell you what those guys are singing about," Carboney says of the dueling lyricists.

The tight, narrow focus on songwriting and technique has seeped into the band's attitude toward growing. "We've found there are a lot of bands out there who really try to be other bands, and that's kind of disturbing," Figueroa says. "When we come to practice, we're not thinking of setting up a set list. We're thinking of the new ideas we came up with. It's cool when other people like it, but if no one else did, I don't think any of else would be particularly bothered about it."