THE GHOST LULLABY

The Ghost Lullaby offers another take on heavy rock with an understated elegance. The songs often start with simple Sonic Youthy octave melodies while the bassman plays one note for a long time, and then they build it up with chromatic barrages of heavy metal. Drowned out by the flood of sound from their guitars and drums, The Ghost Lullaby appears to consider vocals to be of secondary importance. When the band is really rocking out, both the guitarists go to the highest reaches of the fret board to exercise their fancy anti-solos. This band is not encumbered by stifling rules of musical theory in designing their riffs and guitar melodies, although their drummer is clearly a seasoned technician behind the kit, containing the unfiltered energy to guide the Ghost Lullaby's dreamy buildups and rock heavy payoffs. - www.citizinemag.com By Thom White

If you intend to summarize the wide U.K. and U.S. indie scenes from the late '80s to the early '90s, you could listen to the Ghost Lullaby (http://www.theghostlullaby.com) and receive a proper education. Whether it was their intention or not, the Ghost Lullaby offer a mirror reflection to the glory days of alternative from both sides of the modern-rock shore. The opening cut "Dirty" not only shares the title of a Sonic Youth album but the downtempo fuzz rock that made them critical darlings as well. Look to "Candle" as a point of reference with vocalist Perrin Newell capturing Thurston Moore's dour, Lou Reed-influenced tone. Newell shares singing duties with Valerie Aiello, whose Goth schoolgirl sweetness recalls Lush in the 4AD prime. The Ghost Lullaby veers from violent dissonance to dreamy richness; it's a bipolar disorder that is consistently mesmerizing. On "Delicate Ways," the Ghost Lullaby reach the grindhouse decibel levels of Sub Pop-era Nirvana, pounding the pavement with "Negative Creep"-loud riff rock. But then the band glides downward with the shoegazer prettiness of "Texture," which could be compared to Ride and Catherine Wheel except that it's a woman on board. - www.whisperinandhollerin.com

Originally expecting a darkwave album from their name, the Ghost Lullaby are instead fueled by both cathartic noise and ethereal whispers, finding the link between Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine. The latter is best represented by the droning “Black Page,” which is pretty suicidal stuff; it’s slow-building heartache set to an otherworldly pulse. There’s more of that on “Texture,” its enigmatic name already recalling the shoegazer acts of nearly two decades ago now (has it been that long?)

Perrin Newell and Valarie Aiello are the band’s distaff vocalists; they’re kind of like Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon minus the ear-bleeding experimentalism and arty pretensions. “Dirty” has Sonic Youth’s distorted electric syrup, but “Just Because” tops it by combining the Jesus & Mary Chain’s Darklands gloom with the glam swagger of T. Rex.

Nothing here that you haven’t heard before; the Ghost Lullaby piece together parts of iconic college bands, namely the black-clad ones. However, inspired moments abound, such as the heavy-metal thunder of “Delicious Ways” and the simmering bleakness of “All Was Lost.”
- www.shotgunreviews.com

The Ghost Lullaby is a recently added Artists selection found on my iPod between Gene Vincent and Giant Drag. "Button Eyes" is the name of their new album. As the first song "dirty" begins to play through the earphones, a second look at the music player is required, thinking that it automatically shuffled to a Smashing Pumpkins song instead: hollow pop-pop drums and a dull razor guitar begins to screech. But soon, Perrin Newell, one of the two lead singers of The Ghost Lullaby, breaks into lyrical prose with scratchy, dirty, audio vocals, like listening through a drive-thru speaker. It's a raw chewing on nuts and bolts in the stomach feeling that is worthy to be The Ghost Lullaby's first music video.

When the image of industrial rain stops pouring through the first track, Valerie Aiello, the female lead, slows life down in the following song "All was Lost"; her comforting vocals, reminiscent of Sixpence None the Richer, play over an acoustic guitar, patting drums, and an easing electric squeal that unites into an alternative lullaby fitting to the band's name.

Track three might be So Alive, a Love And Rockets monotone vocal drag that builds into a raging and instrumental outburst in "Just Because". The homage of similarities continue through the grunge chaos of "delicate ways", or a Radiohead "texture" with female vocals, to a somber heart dripping Mazzy Star feel in "Clocks". Not sure if it is the intention of this diversified album, but it works well to tribute alternative genre without getting repetitive or dull, with each song having an unexpected twist to a familiar sound. The album ends with an instrumental fitting to be heard over end credits of an experimental David Lynch film.

The Ghost Lullaby's new album "Button Eyes" contains a unique blend of their own supernatural aura with the quality spirit of well known alternative rock contributors of the past few decades—different soul, same heart. You can either purchase the album directly from them by mail or at their next gig near you; the later is preferred. The Ghost Lullaby album that is currently playing on my iPod was picked-up at their recent performance at Surf City Saloon.

The address is correct. Huntington Beach was the city of choice this evening. It was the opportunity to see and possibly meet The Ghost Lullaby that caused the road trip out of regular jurisdiction. There were only two show dates on their schedule at the time and the second show date was already booked with other obligations. The only choice was to go to the beach city or miss them completely. Sure, they just released their album and will likely be touring, but why prolong the desire to see them?

Got off the 405 freeway and headed west down Beach Blvd. It was a cool evening with very little city traffic, fast enough to keep the speedometer at thirty-five while in search of this saloon. Of course, the bar wasn't exactly on this street, rather it turned out to be in an L-plaza with one end of the lot opening to Beach Blvd. A tiki style restaurant on the corner was blazing a bonfire and looked like a candidate to be the place; so made a U-turn, passed the fire, realized it wasn't the place, and turned onto the cross street, Ellis Street, to make another U-turn. Decided to pull into the dark plaza behind the restaurant and pull back out on Beach Blvd, but there it was, a little lit sign in the middle of the plaza reading "Surf City Saloon". Parked the car in the lot and that was that--a lot of Free parking. It was around 8:30pm.


The exterior is not much more than neon beer glowing in the window under a plaza marquee advertising pool tables and live bands every Friday and Saturday. A guy sits at a foldout table next to the door, checks IDs, tells the cover charge is $5, and stamps the hand with a smile; there is a casual big guy standing near him, but said nothing. Hanging on the wall behind the big guy is a small showcase with upcoming events, but didn't feel comfortable sneaking around his back for a closer look. So, got the hand marked and opened the way into the saloon.

No big surprises inside. This place does not attempt to be more than it is: a bar with a stage. On one side is the bar with two very attentive lady bartenders and multiple television screens emanating athletes under an American flag painted on the ceiling. Transfixed drinkers sit on a row of stools below a strand of plastic team flags that designate this place as a sports bar; not to mention the Dodgers and Angels baseball games playing on separate screens with the Dodgers game audio pumping through speakers in the four corners of the saloon, next to a few surfboards hanging here and there, next to more neon alcohol suggestions…

Other fun and games: Like any bar, there is often a few other bits of entertainment. Surf City Saloon is no exception: how about a row of pinball and video games with a snack machine on the end; or the usual electronic dart board; or televisi - 405 EAST