In a once-pink house, atop a hill where San Francisco and Daly City collide, freak folk four-piece Little Teeth practices its trash thrash in a small living room decked with tawdry holiday tchotchkes year round, as if suspended in a never-ending Christmas.

When I arrive, pajama-clad vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Sofia Bell is baking Christmas tree-shaped vegan cookies. As she enters the bedroom, she serves percussionist Sean Real and the band’s newest addition, Brian Rodriguez, her freshly baked confections. Her wife, vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Dannie Murrie, is in their bed, watching
16 and Pregnant. When Bell ensures everyone is eating, she gets in the bed and cozies up next to Murrie. The room’s energy shifts when the interview commences.

Weeks prior — to accompany Daly City/Andalusia, an EP of demos — Little Teeth posted a tell-all bio on Bandcamp, scrupulously detailing the dissolution of the band’s original lineup (Ammo Eisu, Andy Tisdall, Murrie — Murrie remains the only original member).

On New Year’s Eve 2008, after she was introduced to Little Teeth’s music by her boyfriend, Bell saw Tisdall perform solo. His music — simple folky melodies above clamorous creaky piano, banjos, and cellos — made for enchanting chamber folk. “It was like a religious experience. Everyone blacked out of the room. Doves were flying. [There were] huge choruses of kneeling skeletons,” she says, catching her breath. “It was a very dramatic experience for me.”

She also met Murrie that evening. “I saw her come up the stairs. And I will never not remember that ’cause it really [was] like that love at first sight thing,” she says.

To Bell, the music Tisdall and Murrie were making both together as Little Teeth and separately as solo artists was what she had been waiting for her whole life. “I just felt like nothing had ever played the sound of a person — what it felt like to be on the inside in your nervous system running and the voices in your head arguing with you,” she says. “I just felt so completely naked in front of their music.”

So enamored with Tisdall’s music, Bell began cheating on her boyfriend with him. A room opened up in the Pink House — where Murrie resided — when the band was at SXSW. Bell moved in. And upon his return, Tisdall shared a room with Bell.

During what Bell and Murrie call “the golden era,” Bell was experimenting as Stanzamaphone, her solo project, while Murrie was producing Little Teeth’s debut album, Child Bearing Man (Absolutely Kosher). In it, Murrie’s snarling, metallic gruff rises above the banging of pots and pans and wailing of mandolin, accordion, banjo, and cello. When Murrie began working on Stanzamaphone with Bell, they fell in love.

“It was the Chernobyl of the house,” Murrie says, referring to the day she and Bell decided to disclose their feelings for each other with their housemates. “It went the worst way it could have possibly gone. It went the way of hospitals and 5150s” — involuntary 72-hour hold in a psychiatric hospital.

All the while, Bell had developed a gastrointestinal disorder. After her hospitalization, she began to write down what had happened over the past six months. The pared down version of that story was posted to Bandcamp, as the band worked on repairing itself. With sagacious hindsight, in the house frozen in Christmas time, Murrie says, “Our sentence is to face the ghost and do it justice and do it service. And live with it everyday. And live it through our songs.”

Originally published in the San Francisco Bay Guardian on November 2, 2011.

10:00AM
If you are in need of your first cup of coffee, you’ll have to pass on the Pike Place and grab a mug of French press at Four Barrel Coffee which is arguably the trendiest destination for espresso and coffee drinks both Folgers-drinkers and coffee snobs can enjoy. Over the counter, you’ll stare wide-eyed at plaid-clad baristas donning black plastic frame glasses, pouring steamed milk over shots of espresso to make leafy latte art. Sitting on its front bar, Four Barrel has various intimidating coffee-making contraptions like a French press, a Chemex, a pourover, an Aeropress, and a vac-pot which resemble glassware in a scientist’s laboratory. Here, a barista brews Four Barrel’s own in-house roasted coffee beans one cup at a time.

11:00 AM
Two blocks towards 16th Street and past several parked fixed-gear bikes, shuffle in your black Toms toward Clothes Contact: Vintage by the Pound. In the storefront window, the wigged mannequins don the most outlandish, neon-colored, costume-y ensembles. Inside, past a large display of leather boots and ornamented pumps, you’ll find racks of Members Only jackets, plaid button down shirts with pearl buttons, oversized sequined wool sweaters, and ruffled blouses – among other things. At check-out, clothing items that are not already priced are weighed and sold at $10 per pound. You can get an entire outfit – from peep-toe pumps to oversized sunglasses – for under $40. Who needs Urban Outfitters when there’s Clothes Contact?

After an hour and half or so of power shopping, dine at Cha Ya, a vegan Japanese restaurant. Cha Ya’s décor is simple – white walls with light wooden counters and tables. However, its understated demeanor should not tarnish your expectations of the food. With prices ranging upwards of $12, this reasonably priced mom-and-pop eatery uses the San Francisco Bay Area’s freshest produce in its delectable dishes like mushroom udon noodle soup and hangetsu (Portobello mushroom with kiwi sauce). For those a little weary of vegan fare, the Cha Ya roll (a tempura roll with yam with avocado and asparagus drizzled in a glazed soy sauce) is a safe bet – it’s fried.

2:00PM
Then, it is onward to Dolores Park after a light but satisfying lunch. Complete with tennis courts, basketball courts, and a playground, it is a favorite picnic destination among San Franciscans on the weekend. But the biggest draw is its picturesque view of the San Francisco skyline and Bay Bridge. Before setting foot on its grass, be forewarned, on any given day, you might witness something strange or outright whacky like a large group of people simultaneously hoolah-hooping to “Billie Jean” by Michael Jackson. While you’re soaking in what there is of the sun, get some ice cream from Bi-rite Creamery & Bakeshop that features “small batch, artesian ice cream, sorbets, and confections.” From classic flavors like mint chip to more obscure ones like salted caramel, its ice cream is not only tasty, but made from locally sourced, organic ingredients. Not only is its ice cream delicious, but also smart – Bi-rate Creamery & Bakeshop employs green practices like using biodegradable packaging for all of its products.

6:00PM
Now that you’ve savored your spicy Mexican chocolate flavored ice cream, stroll to Needles and Pens, an independently owned DIY goods store and art space, to take a gander at its home-published zines, handmade jewelry, and other homemade goods. At Needle and Pens, the items it stocks are predominately silk-screened, re-sewn, recycled, cut-up, and/or photocopied so try on a stylish dress made of vintage materials then flip through a photocopied zine at this kitschy shop.

6:30PM
It’s time for dinner. Although the interior of the restaurant, Panchitas, is not anything like the Four Seasons Restaurant, you will get very authentic food as though your long-lost Salvadorian grandmother had cooked dinner especially for you. Panchitas is famous for its pupusas, a traditional Salvadorian dish made of a thick handmade tortilla that is stuffed with cheese, refried beans, your choice of meats of either ground pork or sliced chicken, spinach and/or loroco, a vine flower from Central America. Pupusas are served with served with curtido, lightly fermented cabbage slaw with red chilies and vinegar, and a watery tomato salsa.

8:00PM
After savoring a hearty meal, head Café Du Nord, a small music venue on the periphery of the Mission district. As the home of The Dodos and The Sandwitches, San Francisco’s indie music scene is bustling with unparalleled talent. Tonight, San Francisco-based Geographer is playing, a genre-defying three piece that combines indie rock, electropop, and folk against soaring vocals.

12:00AM
Unlike New York City, San Francisco is a city that does sleep. MUNI, the city’s railway and bus system, stops running around midnight so retreat to your $1500 studio in the Haight-Ashbury district. And, sleep well.

In its latest full-length, Providence, Rhode Island’s Brown Bird — David Lamb (guitar, banjo, percussion, vocals) and Morgan Eve Swain (vocals, fiddle, cello, upright bass) —masters the art of etching rich soundscapes with bare-bones vocals and minimal instrumentation. Lamb’s guttural crooning, impeccably nuanced with anguish, transforms what could have been one-dimensional ditties into kaleidoscopic testaments of hurt.

The album opener “Fingers to the Bone” perfectly encapsulates the raw simplicity of Brown Bird’s music. It’s got a catchy, toetapping rhythm that’s roughened by Lamb’s deep baritone gruff against a lone banjo and tambourine. On “Bilgewater”, Lamb’s throaty vocals rise above acoustic guitar and the tap-tap of a woodblock. Swain’s dark yet seemingly unaffected alto ricochets off this spare arrangement, adding depth and texture. At Salt for Salt’s center is “Shiloh,” a complex instrumental track. Here, Lamb and Swain exercise their musical dexterity and versatility by juxtaposing exotic rhythms and dark chamber folk. Somehow both multi-instrumentalists suspend the physics of sound by transcending their limitations as a duo, creating dense arrangements that rival those of small chamber ensembles.

While the album is grounded in Lamb and Swain’s deep knowledge of traditional American folk music, the music therein sounds gritty but refined. Brown Bird’s songs have mainstream appeal but are by no means watered down. Inspired by roots-music, Eastern European folk, and gypsy music traditions, the band’s music combines all these influences to create something singular — a brand of indie folk all its own.

Published in the East Bay Express on October 19, 2011.

“We were listening to these old [Jamaican]records that were just incredibly psychedelic and very alive — breathing and pumping with groovy consciousness,” says Alex deLanda, bassist of San Franciscan outfit, Extra Classic. “But they were recorded on four-tracks.”

As deLanda gushes about this style of music, vocalist-keyboardist  Adrianne “Dri” Verhoeven (formerly of emo-pop’s the Anniversary) nods in agreement, stroking the couple’s tangerine-colored cat, Carol. Their other cat, King Jonezers, circles as they sit in the living room of their Richmond District apartment.

To simulate the sonic texture on old recordings of Jamaican music, Verhoeven and deLanda made a conscious decision to record Extra Classic’s full-length, Your Light Like White Lightning, Your Light Like a Laser Beam (Manimal Vinyl), all-analog on eight-track tape with equipment from the ’60s and ’70s. To celebrate the album’s vinyl release, Extra Classic will play the Make-Out Room with King Tuff and Audacity on Oct. 26; but first, a gig opening for Moonface at the Independent this Tuesday, Oct. 18.

Working on old cars and working on vintage recording equipment is basically the same thing, deLanda says recalling memories of working on his father’s Chevys from the ’40s and ’50s. “I’m underneath [the recording equipment], cussing, and trying to solder some wires together — trying to make it work,” deLanda laughs. “It just made sense [to record all-analog].” Vanhoeven joins in the laughter, her pants now blanketed in cat fur.

The technological limitations of analog exaggerated the interconnectedness of Extra Classic’s songwriting process and recording method, rendering it challenging at times. “[We had] to think inside of eight tracks,” Verhoeven says. DeLanda (formerly of Casiotone For The Painfully Alone and the Papercuts) adds, “If we weren’t able to express ourselves with eight tracks, then we needed to go back to the drawing board.”

The absence of ProTools notwithstanding, Extra Classic masterfully braids elements of Jamaican music, which include dub, reggae, Caribbean music, and American R&B/soul/pop — among others — into its own brand of multidimensional grooves. Despite technical constraints, they were able to create a kaleidoscopic album that impeccably honors the style of music that they love dearly.

Borrowing its moniker from the eponymous album by reggae legend, Gregory Issacs, Extra Classic was also inspired by Jamaican music thematically. “I drew inspiration, as a singer, from the amount of feeling and soul in [this] whole genre of music,” Verhoeven says. “Times are tough. You got a lot of shit stacked up against you, but [you find] some sort of way out and hope.”

This is strikingly evident in “You Can’t Bring Me Down,” an anthem of strength, resilience, and empowerment. Upon a cursory listen, it’d be understandable if someone was to categorize Extra Classic as a reggae band. But in songs such as “Angel Eyes,” Verhoeven’s vocals gently hover above an airy arrangement, recalling ’50s American pop, à la Patti Page. In the closer, “Give Me Your Love,” her richly nuanced and soulful voice emanates more of an R&B vibe.

Verhoeven attests to the band’s inherently eclectic sound, “I’d say we’re influenced by reggae music. But, I wouldn’t say that’s the kind of band we are. I would say we’re psychedelic dub rock.”

Petting King Jonezers, deLanda interjects, “It’s like the rock and roll’ers think we’re reggae. And the reggae guys think we’re rock and roll.”

Originally published in the San Francisco Bay Guardian on October 12, 2011.