with a bullet.

With a Bullet at the Blue Moon Tavern
March 3, 2007, Seattle, WA

By Stella

You know those nights when you just don't.wanna.go.anywhere? I was sitting at home a couple weekends ago, embodying this sentiment: on the couch, enrobed in my favorite fleece blanket, cat on lap, "Jeopardy" on TV, glass of wine in hand. But I'd previously made plans to go with my guy to see his pal's band, and I felt compelled to keep my word. Plus, this would be my first-ever adventure to The Blue Moon Tavern — a Seattle watering hole that's hosted countless artists and louts alike over the years. I figured I'd better muster the energy just in case this was the only chance I'd get to frequent this nostalgic locale.

I'm so glad I rallied, because the night ended up being one of those Ultimate Seattle Nights. You know, the kind that could've been last Saturday or a Saturday 20 years ago. The kind where the bands and the faces change, but nothing else seems a smidge different from how it woulda been in 1987 or 1971.

The place is a slice of Northwest life — its wood-washed walls plastered with tattered and smoke-stained posters and paraphernalia. Scraggly booths full of scragglier looking patrons. A rack of moose antler perched on the wall. A hand-carved bear statue adjacent to the stage. There was even a flannel or two bellied up to the bar. Oh, and of course, floors sticky with on-tap beer.

Juhu Beach was supposed to open, but had to cancel at the last minute to welcome a new bundle of joy to one band member's family (Congrats!). Heavy-hitters Madraso were the last-minute filler, and they obviously had enough time to make a few phone calls pre show as quite a handful of fans were in attendance. Their manic drumming and frenetic energy kicked off the night like a shotgun blast, Madraso sounding like a band that could just as easily have been on the bill with the numerous hardcore bands that used to play the now-defunct Velvet Elvis.

Next up were With a Bullet, hailing from Yakima and my guy's friend's band. Now don't get me wrong — those two descriptors could be interpreted as disclaimers. But With a Bullet are legit. Guitarist/frontman Justin Woodall wails on the vox and six-string, leading the three-piece through Jesus Lizard- and Nirvana-inspired material from their latest, This Is the Sound It Makes. Drummer John Marvin thrashes the skins with impeccable precision, crisp and thunderous at times, while Bryan Kerth's fingers rock on the bass.

With a Bullet plowed through their set amidst a strange interlude where a random tavern-goer proceeded to walk up to the stage and faux-kick Woodall in the shin for no apparent reason. I blame the aforementioned surplus of beer. The rollicking rock resounded off the woodgrain walls, splitting eardrums and hair in its wake.

With a Bullet's feverish set helped me forget that just three hours earlier I had no intention of leaving the house. But by the time the second hard cider was through me, my eyelids were drooping again and it was time to bail. Too bad, as headliners American School of Warsaw looked to be drawing quite a crowd. Until the next blue moon.

With a Bullet is currently planning a Summer West Coast tour.

- Three Imaginary Girls

WITH A BULLET, YAKIMA NATION

SUNDAY 7/1 2007

(Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash)

If you haven't had the need for an entire bushel of apples of a large quantity of uncut yayo from the Chicanos Por Vida lately, you probably don't know squat about Yakima, WA. It's a place of broken dreams and pent-up rage; a high-plains community between Seattle and Spokane where the only things to do are rock or die. With a Bullet impressively mash Olympia-style wait-and-explode dynamics with palpable Amphetamine Reptile disdain, while their hardcore brethren Yakima Nation squeeze out howling post-hardcore squalls of refusal. With so many Yakima, WA escapees in one room for such a short stint, almost anything can happen-keep your hand on your wallet and your eyes on the door. LANCE CHESS - The Portland Mercury

Surprisingly versatile recording. Woodall's bleak lyrics and "heart on his sleeve" growl evoke thoughts of Bleach era Cobain. Big guitars and danceable drumbeats cant help but remind the listener of Fugazi's more pop oriented work. With its forlorn verse and anthemic chorus the only ballad on the record (Your eyes have changed) is reminisent of Sunny Day Real Estate at thier best. This record takes the listener on an emotional rollercoaster ride, disarmingly sweet one moment savagely brutal and wounded the next. With enough odd time signatures and changes to keep the musicians ear and enough pop sensability to sing along this record has something for all post/punk rock n roll fans.

ABRO_ - ABRO_RAWK

Night life spotlight -- With a Bullet

The Yakima band With A Bullet began several years ago as the noisy basement-dwelling duo of Justin Woodall (guitar/vocals) and John Marvin (drums).

But since then, the band, which added bassist Bryan Kerth in fall 2004, has grown into a trio with depth -- while still keeping its aggressive attitude. Now, With A Bullet is about to release its first full-length album, "This Is the Sound It Makes."

That sound is a blend of hard-hitting, old-school influences and a more melodic, indie approach. You still need earplugs, but you can also sing along. In contrast to With A Bullet's previous three-track demo -- made before the arrival of Kerth -- this record has a significantly more polished sound and personal tone.

"I wanted to make it very three-dimensional," notes Kerth. "I wanted something visual ... have the music take shape more."

Recorded in pieces at the band's former practice space and in Woodall's kitchen, the nine-track disk is mastered by Chris Common, a friend of the band and drummer for Seattle's These Arms Are Snakes.

The album features dynamic songs with searing guitar riffs, Marvin's ferocious drumming and Woodall's guttural scream ("Conversation Piece," "Tastes Like Burning"), as well as some personal and piercing lyrics ("Till the Day I'm Dead," "Your Eyes Have Changed").

"This one I'm saying more," says Woodall, who writes the words and riffs before the band sits down and hashes out the specifics. "It's more relative to my life and sincere."

With Woodall wearing his heart on his sleeve, though, some songs are hard to get through live, he admits. But turning that heartache into a muse -- a line from "Till the Day I'm Dead" -- makes these songs mean more.

And you can hear it. This is the sound it makes. - On Magazine