Local indie rock band Ten Kilowatt Test Drive is celebrating their new EP on Friday, May 8, with a show at The Cicada. Hour Angle is the band’s third record in a year and fourth overall, as their first EP’s four tracks were split into two releases, First and Second, released to Bandcamp about a month apart. The six songs on Hour Angle (also available on Bandcamp) were tracked and mixed by Alex Bhore — whose many, many producer/musician credits tell a fascinating history of two decades of DFW music — at Elmwood Studios in Dallas and mastered by Matthew Barnhart, who learned the art of mastering and cutting vinyl master lacquers at the fabled Bob Weston’s Chicago Mastering Service for bands on a lot of the major indie labels like Merge, Sub Pop, and Goner. Barnhart also founded the Echolab in Denton, and if you have paid any attention to DFW bands over the past couple decades, you’ve most certainly heard a few recorded there.
I feel like I have to get the recording credits out of the way so that if you care about that sort of thing, you will pleased to hear that this EP sounds great and that Bhore’s production — what I think of as modern analog warmth or, if you prefer, a vintage sound minus any corny, bell-bottom-y, vintage pretensions — really serves these songs. Crewed by guitarist/vocalist Paddy Ferguson (Goiter Belt, Understudied), drummer Quincy Holloway (Dovehunter, Sub Oslo), and bassist Ean Parsons (Boom Boom Box, Pinkston), Ten Kilowatt Test Drive’s sound evinces that confluence of influences that I’d describe as ’90s/’00s indie (think: Pavement, Hum, Yo La Tengo, My Bloody Valentine, probably), carried from their brains to yours across a sonic bridge of swirling, emotionally charged guitar effects.
On a phone call recently, Ferguson and I chatted about the passage of time — he’s in his early 50s, and I’m right behind him — as perceived by us old people before eventually getting into that very-much-middle-aged-band-dude-topic, guitar effects pedal chains. To achieve Hour Angle’s various soundscapes and tones, Ferguson utilizes more than 20 pedals, including an Earthquaker Devices fuzz/overdrive pedal called “Gary.” All of that signal-sculpting makes for a highly enjoyable headphone experience, especially with the melodic, textured interplay between Ferguson and Parsons and the understated power of Holloway’s drumming.
Paddy Ferguson
Ferguson’s lyrics suggest the discord that comes from the distance between people, whether in a political sense (“When in Reigns, The Poor”) or an interpersonal one (“New Look”). Borne on intentionally crafted atmospherics, Ferguson’s words carry a tragic finality in them. You’d have to hear this to know what I mean, but there’s a moment at the EP’s midpoint that really got me: After the slow, chiming guitar build of “C-Hag,” a different, similarly moody guitar phrase appears, the kind of aural cue that suggests a rainy day falling on the sixth day after a bad breakup. The sudden cut from that into uptempo chord banging is an exciting surprise. As the EP draws to a close with “Dry Eyes” and everything drops out besides Ferguson and the dusty, disheveled reverb covering his guitar, he sounds like one of the last people on Earth, trying to make a connection.
While the show at The Cicada on Friday — which also features Lazy Comet (San Antonio) and Denton-based indie rock duo Wirewings — is in celebration of the new EP, it is also a farewell for Holloway, who will soon be moving to Mexico with his family. As big a fan as I am of Quincy and his various projects — Sub Oslo, long-defunct, remains my all-time favorite local band — his move will leave a big hole not only in the lineups of every group he plays with but in Fort Worth’s music scene. I’m glad I have the memories of a bunch of Dovehunter and Sub Oslo shows, as well as seeing his explosive, propulsive style in his more contemporary bands like Ten Kilowatt and KYSER. I’m gonna miss seeing you around, dude. Your band’s latest record is really good.
Ten Kilowatt Test Drive EP release show
8pm Fri, May 8, w/Lazy Comet and Wirewings at The Cicada, 1002 S Main St, Fort Worth. $10.
