The Book of Right On is the freshest band in MPLS despite being so old and ugly

Something beautiful happened in the early 80’s, the effects of which perhaps weren’t fully realized until a few decades later. I’m talking, of course, about the moment when American bands started listening to African music. Not African-American music. African music. Where they invented rhythm.

The Talking Heads were one of the most prominent American bands to adopt the polyrhythmic practices of Africa, adding multiple drummers and incorporating layered, interlocking vocal chants into their songs.  Paul Simon one upped them by getting South African group Ladysmith Black Mambazo to add their haunting vocals to his album Graceland. It was white people doing what they do best: borrowing the highly original art of other cultures, chopping into bite-sized pieces, then sitting back and watching it sell like hot cakes. But unlike Elvis, this time they at least cited their sources.

I promise this will get to The Book of Right On soon. Bare with me.

Then came the nineties, when musicians eschewed diverse influences in favor of being "alternative," which means their parents allowed them to listen to nothing but Bing Crosby as children and in retaliation they attempted to induce chronic ear-ringing with their music in order to drown out those bad thoughts forever. This worked, and they were satisfied and stopped. Finally the dark Seattle clouds parted and people began reaching back to the 80's again, groping wildly in hopes of finding something that didn't feel like Kurt Cobain's scattered brains. And sure enough, they found those solid, shimmering, maniacal intricacies of yore right where they left them. Now loads of bands from Vampire Weekend to Gorillaz have built their sound using the Afro-80’s palette.

Enter The Book of Right On. Crafting hooks disguised as the sound of a construction crew since 2007, TBORO is made up of twin cities music scene veterans whose previous bands never met the acclaim they deserved. The black sheep of a music scene known for its intense fan base, they've been bobbing along the brink of obscurity since their inception. Last year they finally released their first album, "All These Songs About Music," and it's chalked full of everything that was good about music of the early 80's: an aloof yet cocky lead singer spouting out stream-of-conscious lyrics, the driving force of punk funneled into minimal hooks, and of course, the confounding rhythms of African music, bottled, carbonated, shaken heavily and sprayed all over the rest of the band.

There are bits of The Talking Heads, Television and Devo present in their sound. But they also bring more modern, experimental textures to the table. Front man Joe Holiday's voice alone is enough to set them apart from their influences. He has a propensity for chewing a mouthful of alliteration and peculiar rhymes into confoundedly catchy hooks.

Holiday's vocals are more about wordplay than content, more rhythm than melody; his phrases repeated over the precise and brash mayhem of the rest of the band almost act as auxiliary percussion. On album opener "Pinpointing the Exact Moment Hollywood Said God Enough" he spits off-centered rhymes like "Slack-jaws chew minutia / foul Maws chew disgrace / and most times, I won't validate the dreck / I'd rather neck to a stone jam, no debate" while skillfully wringing out an entirely different rhythm on the bass. On "Obligatory Jam for the Lady Folk" he cranks up the absurdity knob with "Is that a windowsill or a guillotine? / If I climb and crawl through will I find / a crook in your bed or the loss of my head / would you hollow out my torso to chill wine?"

Having two drummers gives the band the opportunity to layer minimal percussion into a driving frenzy. Often one drummer bangs out a pattern of rim shots while the other anchors the first with pounding toms. It also just makes things loud and kinetic, and it's the only way that the rhythm section could possibly compete with the energy of Holiday. The rest of the band members switch between guitar, bass and keys, occasionally piping in on the sax, trumpet and syncopated backing vocals. Stripped down, individual parts of the band are minimal and straight forward, but in the context of the other parts the whole becomes a perpetually shifting five-headed beast.

None of this careful balance can be fully appreciated on the album. Live, The Book of Right On simultaneously exude cohesion and chaos. They are jagged and unpredictable, like a balloon set free to fly through the room, yet everything feels planned and deliberate. I saw them last weekend at the newly reopened Turf Club, where they pummeled through their album and played a few new songs. Holiday thanked the audience for coming despite him and his band being old and ugly.

The best part about watching them live is seeing the momentum shift between band members; Guitarist J Underwood starts a line that is embellished by Holiday on Bass, and the rest of the band pulsates around it, jumping in at just the right moments. No one butts heads or fights for attention. The three years they waited before releasing their first album have allowed them to hone their performances, which handily supersede their recordings.

They ended the show with a well-deserved band shot of whiskey.

The Book of Right On are making music like no other Minneapolis bands right now. Help them thrive and spread their invaluable influence across Minneapolis. It seems they've stopped updating their events on myspace, so you might have to dig a little to find where they're performing next. Or you could just come right back to this page and I'll let you know.

http://www.vita.mn/event_detail.php?event_id=106372

http://www.myspace.com/bookofrighton

http://www.avclub.com/twincities/articles/the-book-of-right-ons-right-on,44695/