Thursday night was a beautiful night. For just one evening the blistering heat and thick humidity that we Floridians expect and have learned to accept subsided, even before sunset. What replaced the sweltering summer was reasonably cool, dry air, which made it perfect for a downtown visit and casual tossing of a Frisbee. I took full advantage of this opportunity. So, with my Nalgene bottle full of orange juice and Svedka I made my way down to the green at Curtis Hixon Park to awkwardly run around in pursuit of a cheap, flimsy, and very illusive disc.

The weather also made it an ideal night for a concert at the airy (to say the least) New World Brewery in Ybor, specifically, the Sons of Hippies’ CD release party. So, down to Ybor I went feeling like a cocktail shaker from running while my mixed drink tried to settle in my stomach. I strolled down an eerily peaceful 8th street, the only sound in ear’s shot other than the occasional passing of a car was the soft buzzing of the guests at NWB and the music on the PA. In all other directions it was almost dead quiet. I walked in at about 9:45 to a modestly sized, but lively crowd. The mood was good. Everyone was sipping beers, smiling and socializing. This would seem commonplace for a bar, wouldn’t it? Well, of course, but it was a little different than usual. There seemed to be no divisions or cliques voluntarily secluding themselves in their own conversations with little to no regard for the people around them. Rather, there appeared to be an intermingling of friends, friends of friends, acquaintances, and business relationships, all without guards, reservations or insecurities, all with open doors for comfortable exit or entry into conversation. This kind of social utopia was an appropriate setting given that it was a celebration of the release of A-Morph, the anticipated sophomore LP from the neo-hippies that are SoH.

Soon after I ordered my high-test beverage, the thump of a bass drum and mumbling mic checks began. Before continuing I have to admit that, musically at least, the one thing that has the ability to immediately fill me with joy and respect is a hip-hop act with a full backing band. How rare it is and how lucky I felt to hear Big Blu House doing just that, and extremely well. The beats produced behind the drums by Jeph “House” were solid and uncompromising. He led the band with impeccable timing and unnoticeable flaw. The Double complemented “House” perfectly with tasteful, funky walks and powerful pops on the bass. What sounded like two guitarists and a keyboardist coming from stage left was simply “Big” Leon sitting alone behind the keys. At the forefront, J-Blu said his piece. His refreshing lyrics were far from the stereotypical egoism and “money over everything” attitude that comes with the “dirty south” acts in FLA. J-Blu wasn’t cocky or flashy, he was confident and modest, he was the owner of his words and he never stumbled for a second. Blu told stories with style like Notorious B.I.G., his hooks were as memorable as those of the Wu Tang Clan, and behind it all was musical intensity akin to Jay-Z’s Black Album. Call it modern hip-hop with old school sensibility, if you will. It was a little too early in the night, and the audience hadn’t downed enough booze to lose inhibitions and self awareness to really get into the music, but it was evident by the nodding heads and small grins pasted on the audience’s faces that the talent and enthusiasm of Big Blu House was moving and impressive to everyone.

Following the hip hop four piece, the popular Bradenton band Have Gun Will Travel took the stage in front of a much more dense audience. I can’t deny the fluidity and synchronization of their respective instruments combined, but what they possessed in organization they lacked in performance. Apathetic or indifferent would be too harsh of a description, and enthusiastic would be a long shot, HGWT’s set hung somewhere between the two, in limbo and uncertainty. None-the-less, they had a captive audience and did their duty, via their vintage country rock, by warming them up for Son’s of Hippies.

Sons of Hippies were set up in no time, and if it weren’t for technical difficulties their set would have started 10 minutes earlier. While NWB’s sound guys were checking cords and turning dials, Jonnas Canales sat behind his vibrant colored and oddly set up drums, somewhat impatiently sipping from a screw top bottle of red wine. Singer/guitarist Katherine Kelly fiddled with cords and dials of her own, occasionally plucking her gorgeous Fender Jaguar to test the tone. Behind her was an odd stack of 4 or 5 amps, each one symmetrically smaller than the one below it, like Russian dolls stacked upon each other.

The delay seemed to create some anxiety within the band and it took a toll on the beginning of their set. SoH uncomfortably stumbled through their first two songs, begging for adjustments in the wedges, but by the third song they made good use of their frustration, utilizing it as a mechanism for intensity. Finally their cohesiveness and energy pulled through. SoH played A-Morph in sequential order and finished up with some tracks from Warriors of the Light. The sound wasn’t perfect, as Kelly’s guitars were a bit drowned out by the pounding drums, but they cut through just enough to hear the sharp, thick, big sound that would be best described as a combination of Dinosaur Jr and The White Stripes. What shined through the most in their grunge, dance, punk, psychedelic trip of a set was their involvement and emotional attachment to their music and ideologies. Kelly was lost her own world, only coming to for brief moments between songs to build some rapport with the audience. Her intensity, passion, and focus, not only as the leader of a band but also as a writer, was captivating and goose bump worthy.

SoH sets off now for a 6 week tour in search of a way to mesh artistic integrity with a sound suitable to sell, as was their goal with the recording of A-Morph. Like thousands of bands before them and thousands to follow, they’re gone in hopes of finding their niche and of making a living from their art.

Photos by: Palmer Holmes

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