Iceage Cobra

”A Little Thing Called It”
Matt Brown on Seattle’s Iceage Cobra

“One thing I was thinking about today at work… I’d really like our shows to be more bloody…”

Jordan West is coiled in one of the many comfortable loveseats in Chuck Norris’ House, home to Spokane transplants Iceage Cobra and their Seattle friends, The Emergency.

“Nine humans, one dog and a billion gnats” share this space, although there are no signs of a certain hairy-chested martial arts celebrity.

Nick Detroit, The Emergency’s bassist, described the Cobra’s first Seattle show, a gig at Ballard’s Bop Street Records, in which West’s hand was “completely ripped open” during their bombastic ode to spazzmatic locomotion, “Dance Floors On Fire.” “But you can’t force something like that, though. “It’s just bound to happen” drummer Metch Brasch is quick to comment.

And that is precisely what makes Iceage Cobra a veritable “hurricane of awesomeness”, to use the bands’ words. Like a perfectly executed roundhouse kick to the head, there’s far more art than artifice to their deliriously badass style of rock n’ soul. As Magic Mike from Meat the Vegan remarked recently, “Iceage Cobra has a little thing called ‘it’.”

The Bop Street gig was non-paying but important. Shortly afterwards, the band – West, Brasch and their lanky, nimble-fingered bass player, Brad Kaufmann – left Spokane to move in with the group who had found them on MySpace earlier in 2005. “[After that] tour we ended up just deciding that we should live with The Emergency,” says Kaufmann.

After a series of misadventrues with three “fake managers,” the band is now holding out for more solid representation while they book their own first real tour. West tells me about their first, a roommate of Brasch’s. “Before we played, he would drunkenly yell obscenities in favor of Iceage Cobra into the mic. And when I went into his work, he’d hook me up with some free pizza.”

“Are you going to talk about your reaction to us, Matt?” West asks me, shortly before I follow the band downstairs to watch them rehearse for this weekend’s two shows. He had just finished telling me about the night he forced a lethargic crowd into eager participation, walking from person to person and repeatedly punching himself in the face – hard – telling them that he would kick his own ass if they didn’t clap along with Brasch and Kaufmann’s beat. It worked. Few people could relate a story like his without coming across like a psychotic meathead.

It’s the humor, raw rhythmic energy and the complete dedication to creating a memorable live experience that I respond to, both in these guys and The Emergency. That’s what draws fans like The Stranger’s Hannah Levin and promoter Jason Grimes. That’s what put a grin on producer Jack Endino’s face at a recent Cobra gig at the Sunset Tavern, though afterwards he told me, “They’re fun, but I don’t know how that’ll translate onto record.” With a live split Cobra/Emergency 12” being recorded at the Lobo on March 29th and sixteen tracks ready to make the jump from demos to fully-realized studio recordings, we’ll be finding out soon.

Each member contributes to the songwriting process, and they each take a turn as lead vocalist – often within a single song. Each one of those songs feature savage bursts of great riffs and titles like “Tornado Of Knives” or “Mister Heavy Foot Kicks A Jam,” fusing elements of my favorite hard rock bands from the last four decades with the wanton creativity of guys who just don’t know any better than to put all of their soul into rocking the hell out.

Iceage Cobra has “it” to spare, and I can’t get enough.
- www.nadamucho.com

"Though attending a show at EMP is about as rock 'n' roll as Pat Boone covering "Crazy Train," tonight's bill is worth braving the sterile environs of the Liquid Lounge. Iceage Cobra recently moved to Seattle from Spokane at the insistence of their supportive friends in local soul-punk peddlers the Emergency, and we should be welcoming them with open arms. They could barely be contained on the stage at High Dive a few weeks ago, causing a nearly-packed house to lose their collective shit over their shamelessly spastic blend of classic rock riffage, '70s soul, and dance-inducing backbeats (buoyed in no small part by the joyfully excessive use of cowbell). Iceage Cobra are still unpolished diamonds, but they'll undoubtedly be bling-worthy soon." HANNAH LEVIN - The Stranger; Seattle WA