Seven Samurai
SXSW Picks 2 Click: Austin acts cutting through the din
By Kevin Curtin, Fri., March 6, 2015
Hundred Visions
Fri., March 20, 1am, Valhalla
Ben Maddox's lanky left hand quivers the strings of an old Fender Duo Sonic, mercilessly bending the last notes of a solo to coax noxious gargles of Fuzz War distortion from his double amp stack. In sync, he howls a high, tuneful "ooh-oooohh" that miraculously harmonizes with the strained strings. That duality – scuzz transfused with sweetness – exemplifies Hundred Visions' bemusing vocation: too tight for the garage gang, too poppy for punk purists, and played with too much balls to fit into the indie coterie's skinny trousers.
It's witching hour on a Wednesday at Hotel Vegas and the group's nine feet of amplifier stackage assails eardrums inside the tiny room. Some retreat to the patio, but most deem Hundred Visions' daring volume worthy of hearing damage. Debuting new tunes destined for their upcoming Brutal Pueblo LP, the long-haired Maddox discharges colorful axe blasts and slangs ear-worming hooks in a half-sneered tenor, while Wes Turner works his vice grip basslines high up the scale and drummer Eric Loftis puts an exacting beatdown on his rack and floor toms.
The trio of Texas natives, each with a fondness for punk and metal tracing back to the days of bootleg cassettes, began this vision quest in 2010 and emerged from jam-room two years later with the Permanent Basement LP, highlighted by glammy talk-singing single "Where Do I Sign?" Since then they've toured nationally with hometown breakouts White Denim and Okkervil River, and, last November, ruined any chance of maintaining a modest local profile with the release of sophomore album Spite. That triumphant platter, served on American Sharks drummer Nick Cornetti's Pau Wau Records, spins thick with noisy thrills and single-worthy songwriting that's just jaded, alienated, and frustrated enough to live up to the album's title.
When a journalist attempts to excavate the roots of Hundred Visions' angst, they playfully put on Andy Rooney-esque gripes about the pains of cashless tollbooths and Austin's harebrained highway design. It seems, despite tracks like "I'm Inoculated," which speaks of war, prison, and brainwashing, righteousness ain't their bag. At last, Maddox traces Spite's vexation back home.
"You have to be angry in Texas if you're a normal or progressive-thinking person, because it's intellectually backward and we can't doing anything about it," reasons Maddox. "That's not political shit. It's human shit."
