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AthFest 2006: Good-Bye Coulier
Coulier Has Provided An Ever-Changing Take On Multiple Styles.
Athens Musician Jeff Tobias Provides A Eulogy As The Band Plays Its Final Show
B ands start, play a few songs, and then
break up. It's not rocket science; it's Rock
Music 101. And so another Athens band is
throwing in that cliched towel, and this time it's
Coulier. From its first practice at the straight
edge house party haven known facetiously as the
Chi House, up until the gross dude-nudity of the
CD release show for its 70-minute cockpunch of
a final album, Coulier had one rule: no repeat
ing parts. Pointedly eschewing the time-honored
verse-chorus-verse pop structure held so dear,
the three collegiate smart-asses also unwittingly
laid out their unofficial maxim.
Coulier rarely stayed in one place
creatively for very long; its trajectory
led the members from the liber-sincere
confines of the screamo genre to prog-
influenced epics and, eventually, to
a sort of fine duality between doom-
metal and comedy. In three short years,
Coulier perpetually morphed, growing in
membership seemingly because it was
too fun for the members' friends to not
get involved, and then, inexplicably,
shrinking back to the original line-up.
Many things can be said and debated
about the group's musical output, but
it cannot be said tfnt Coulier was ever
predictable.
O riginally comprised of Marietta
transplants Navid Amlani (formerly
of Atlanta grindcore outfit Camaro
Crotch) and Adam Newman, and then
offset by decidedly un-punk guitar
virtuoso Brion Kennedy, Coulier formed
in January 2003 and began practicing at the Chi
House, which Amlani (sometimes reluctantly)
called home. After a few run-throughs of their
spastic, complex, but wildly anthemic math-rock,
roommate and fellow UGA undergrad Stephen
Newhouse asked if he could fill the position of
bass guitarist. Classic four-piece rock instrumen
tation firmly i n place, the quartet set about the
regular duties of any fledgling band on the DIY
circuit: playing their first shows and releasing a
four-song EP (packaged in screen-printed manila
envelopes, no less). Early Coulier shows were
marked by a naive bacchanalia of drug/ drink-
free madness; fans were urged via flyers to at
tend wearing bicycle helmets, and were rewarded
with a shower of silly string. Newhouse adopted
the title of de facto frontman, and spent as much
time stirring the crowd into a frenzy as he did
playing bass. His screaming, which in metal mag
azines might be politely referred to as “intense."
led to maladies ranging from the typical sore
throats to a visit to the hospital for an inexpli
cable fit of cross-eyed vision. Kennedy, to whom
this sort of raw spazz was previously peripheral,
stood as far off to the side as possible and sim
ply played his parts. Of the numerous revelers
partaking in the youthful insanity, Chi House
roommate Noah McCarthy got particularly "into
it." As McCarthy's seemingly trance-like flailings
became a staple at Coulier shows, the guys made
the obvious decision to ask McCarthy to join as a
full-time member. He played bass on one song.
Within a few short months, Coulier had es
tablished itself as a sort of resident band for the
Chi House. Shortly after recording more material
for an ill-fated split release with Left to Rust
and Bender (both of which have since disbanded
as well), McCarthy, feeling burned out from art
school, took a job at a ski lodge in Colorado,
effectively ending his tenure in Coulier. While
Newhouse brought in replacement "freak-out
guy" Drew Smith, and Kennedy and Newman
began to incorporate alcohol into their musical
diet on a far more regular basis, Coulier began its
first transformation. As new songs moved further
in a more metal direction that ably straddled the
line between tongue-in-cheek and utterly sin
cere. Newhouse's interest in the band waned. The
increasingly nebulous mood of the band culmi
nated in a performance at the Caledonia Lounge
where, after his bass equipment failed, Newhouse
resigned himself to watching his bandmates
from the crowd, arms crossed in apparent disap
pointment. It was a clear harbinger of what was
ultimately a return to form: Newhouse and Smith
bowed out and Coulier continued on as a three-
piece. (In the months since, Newhouse and his
ex-bandmates have made their peace; the former
has continued on in his successful but unlikely-
monikered screamo band I Would Set Myself On
Fire For You.)
Returning to their double-guitar/ drums
"roots," Coulier set about the business of being
an increasingly ridiculous math-metal band. With
the frayed dementia of screamo excised
from the group's sound, Kennedy came
into his own as a far more confident
musician, emphasizing the group's
newfound muscle with cocky stage
moves, matched windmill for windmill
by Newman. After a hijinks-ridden tour
with We Versus the Shark, Coulier holed
up in the now-defunct Epi-l:Ecosystem
studio (read: Cinemechanica's house)
to record a debut full-length. The trio
upped the level of experimentation
(read: dope smoking) and embraced
the gloriously over-the-top touchstones
of progressive rock and metaL Cooi
Cooler, Coulier! featured such auspicious
musical absurdities as comedy samples,
harmonized leads, slowed-down Satan
voices, unabashed Black Sabbath rip-
offi, and a single actual fart. The guys
had effectively distanced themselves
from their emotive roots and moved on
to a realm of stoner humor that would
eventually grow to be their trademark.
Mixing sessions continued after a brief episode
involving Kennedy, an unspecified amount of
liquor, and an enormous amount of concrete. The
album was eventually released on Atlanta main
stay Stickfigure Records and received positive, if
incredulous, reviews.
F rom that point on, the members of Coulier ded
icated themselves as steadfastly to shocking or
surprising their audiences as they did to writing
increasingly labyrinthine riffs. The CD release par
ty for Cooi Cooler, Coulier! featured not a single
note played by the actual band; instead, super
groups formed from local musicians played songs
from the record, while Kennedy and Newman
challenged girls in the audience to drinking con
tests (and lost). When Amlani was unable to tour
over one spring break, the remaining duo simply
soldiered on and debuted what would eventually
be the entirely acoustic swansong, Vibin'. Vibin'
was intended to be a slow, jazzy opus, but grew
to include Pantera-style sludge, moments of eerie
disquiet that could be traced back to Slint, and a
healthy dosage of signature Coulier humor When
the final product ended up lasting a mere 20
minutes, the band, determined to fill the entirety
of a CD's possible duration, came up with a bi
zarre solution: "Halibut" is the album's 50-minute
closing track, composed not by the band but by
friends, via a somewhat complex chart system
that required no musical knowledge. Coulier then
stretched the track out to a cartoonish degree
of slow-motion; the finished product sounds like
some sort of imaginary outer-space field record
ing. Just for the hell of it, the bandmembers
threw in a remarkably candid, autobiographical
remix by Mr. Epi, also known as Joel Hatstat of
synth-punk band Pegasuses. Overall, Vibin' is a
complete overload of information that, surpris
ingly enough, warrants repeat listens. It closes,
through the magic of studio overdubs, with the
sound of every note on the fretboard played at
the same time.
With Newman moving on to more metropoli
tan pastures in New York City, Kennedy consider
ing several years of studying abroad in Germany,
and Amlani pursuing a career in pharmaceuticals
in Atlanta, it was clear to these three longtime
friends that Vibin' was to be their final recorded
mark on Athens' (vastly underrated) metal scene.
However, plans for their final show involve—in
no uncertain terms—a soundman's worst night
mare: one drummer, no guitar payers, and 10
bass players: Adam Newman, Brion Kennedy,
Chena Stephens, Mercer West, Andy Pruett,
James Salcrow, Joel Hatstat, yours truly and two
others. Inspired by doom metal bands such as
Sleep, Coulter's final metamorphosis (which will
be heard for the first, last and only time at this
year's AthFest) will be loud, sludgy, and—hey,
what do you know?—include several repeating
parts. Turns out some rules don't always apply.
Jeff Tobias
Jeff Tobias is a local musician who plays in the bands We
Versus the Shark. Pegasuses. Jail Moves and Dark Meat,
among others.
/
WHO: Coulier
WHERE: 40 Watt Club
WHEN: Friday, June 23,11 p.m.
HOW MUCH: $6 (FREE! w/AthFest wristband)
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