She Keeps Bees doesn’t really sound anything like The White Stripes.
That comparison may not ever come to mind, were it not for the dozen or so reviews that invoke the once-gigantic alternative rock duo. In fact, the Brooklyn pair of vocalist/guitarist Jessica Larrabee and drummer Andy LaPlant are saddled constantly with that label by music writers who simply see a man and a woman, a guitar and drums.
Yet, if one strains to find a commonality aside from the band’s lineup and wide-encompassing “blues rock” label, that trait might be the chemistry and explosiveness of their live performances. We saw Sunday at Duffy’s Tavern; She Keeps Bees is on tour with fellow Brooklyners Shilpa Ray and her Happy Hookers, in support of their forthcoming LP Eight Houses.
“It’s the energy between [Meg and Jack White] that was so intense,” Larrabee told Hear Nebraska over the phone on Thursday. “I think that was what people were responding to. With the music recorded, I don’t solo [like Jack White]. I don’t see it.”
She Keeps Bees’ performance Sunday would be an exercise in carving out one’s own musical niche, not falling into lazy comparisons or rigid definitions.
First off, Oquoa’s vocalist/guitarist Max Holmquist walked on stage, declared, “We’re going to play a concert now.” The band eased into the proceedings like a slow motion after-midnight drive through a dimly lit city center. The band played as deftly as one might expect from such a talent-loaded roster (Holmquist of The Great American Desert, keyboardist Patrick Newberry of Cursive/Conduits, drummer Roger Lewis of Conduits/The Good Life, bassist Mike Overfield). The song “Yellow Flags,” in particular, burned slowly, gradually crescendoing through heavy guitar reverb, swelling keys, and Holmquist’s brooding howl.
Shilpa Ray took the stage next with her Happy Hookers, and with harmonium and pedal steel guitar situated directly in front, it was clear the musical path would be a winding one. The performance was dynamic throughout, traversing punk, pop, blues, even a smattering of doo-wop, often varying tempo and volume. Ray’s harmonium shined throughout the set over heavy rhythm section and punchy, mostly cymbal-less drums. A lack of cymbal wash and reverb allowed Ray to propel her vast vocal range to the forefront. Her voice crooned softly, boomed theatrically, and growled viciously.
On “Mother is a Misanthrope,” she did all three, while the pedal steel guitar of Jon “Catfish” DeLorme’s colored the bouncing number with an indie-blues hue. When questioned by a patron at the front of the stage, Ray conversed at length for the first time, playfully responding, “Yeah I’m totally down for getting wasted after this. We’re all going to get wasted after this.” The Happy Hookers closed the set with a one-two punch of fast-paced blues punk and prom night doo-wop. “Isn’t she a goddess?” Larrabee gushed when She Keep Bees took the stage. “I don’t even wanna play after her.”
If Larrabee did, in fact, harbor anxiety at the prospect of following Shilpa Ray, it quickly dissipated. Larrabee displayed her own powerful vocal abilities on the opener “Breezy” from their new LP Eight Houses. As smoldering and heavy as their blues rock sound is on the album, they seemed unshackled onstage, ripping through their grungy new songs with fervor. The band, made three on this tour by an accompanying guitarist, displayed their versatility as well with Larrabee’s captivating soulful vocals on the single “Is What It Is.”
Larrabee seemed slightly jittery at the outset of the show, making nervous small talk between songs, but relaxed as the show progressed and the volume grew heavier. This was no more evident than when Larrabee sang, tambourine in hand, with only the click-clack and boom of LaPlant’s drums backing her. Their onstage chemistry was such that the two might have been communicating telepathically.
Late in the set, Larrabee was forced to shake off a rather rude patron who mistakenly suggested (mid-performance, no less) that it was their touring guitarist that had penned their music for her.
“No, I write the songs. Are you just talking to him because he has a penis?” she spat at him, before launching into a thunderous version of “Raven.” The rest of the crowd laughed and, when the set was finished, exploded into applause that appeared to genuinely humble the band. It also scored them a well-deserved encore; one that was not assumed, but earned. On this night, it was the energy and quality of their performance, rather than vague similarities to other acts, that spoke volumes.