"It is with great sadness that we share this news with you today," read the notice posted at www.jibeonline.com. "Joe has decided to leave to pursue other interests. Therefore, we regret to announce that the upcoming shows have been cancelled, and this chapter of our lives that is Jibe has come to a close."
And that was it. No farewell show. No final thoughts. With lead singer Joe Grah moving to Los Angeles, Jibe--the alt-rock juggernaut that spent the last decade steadily packing local houses--was simply no more. It came as a surprise. Jibe was the hardworking band perpetually perched on fame's doorstep, the band that recently found national airplay with songs like "Rewind" and "Yesterday's Gone," a catchy Creed-style rocker with high-octane vocals and riffage. Jibe was over? Wasn't Jibe just getting started? (In related news, Creed broke up. Coincidence? You decide.)
To be honest, the band was never my thing. When I once dismissed their sound with a snarky one-liner, I got more hate mail than Howard Stern. That's a hyperbole, of course, but not by much. Jibe fans are hard-core, perhaps with good reason: People whose opinions I respect eventually suggested that if I hadn't seen Jibe live, then I didn't really know the band at all. They spoke of performers who never quite found their sound in the studio but who scorched the stages they played. I looked forward to catching them sometime. My loss, I suppose, and definitely a loss to the super fans who spent last week licking their wounds on the band's clogged message board.
"It broke my heart," one fan wrote. "Thought I was going to cry."
"Fuck it," someone responded. "I cried."
The epic thunderstorm that shook North Texas last Sunday held its breath till the Burden Brothers wrapped their closing set at the Fort Worth Weekly Music Awards. Though the b-brothers weren't nominated for any awards, front man Vaden Todd Lewis was inducted into the paper's Hall of Fame, along with jazz pianist Johnny Case, '50s rockabilly veteran Mac Curtis and experimental jazz pioneer Ronald Shannon Jackson. The night's big winner was Flickerstick, who took home honors for best artist, best rock, best male vocalist (Brandin Lea), album of the year (To Madagascar and Back) and best song ("Open Up Your Eyes"). Other winners included Collin Herring (country), Bertha Coolidge (jazz), Sub Oslo (avant-garde/experimental) and Leroy the Prophet (hard rock). A reported 1,500 made the scene, with no controversy to speak of, though Fort Worth Weekly Associate Editor Anthony Mariani allegedly pinned Flickerstick guitarist/songwriter Corey Kreig in a wrestling match inside the VIP tent. Sheesh. At the DOMAs, all we pounded was whiskey.
Originally I had planned to devote this space to talking about the New Year, whose haunting, lovely new album The End Is Near has been in my CD changer on repeat for nearly two weeks. The New Year, of course, is the band formed by Bubba and Matt Kadane, whose '90s band Bedhead blazed a trail for a thousand slowcore bands to follow. But with so much going on this week, and so many things to say about this particular music and band, I figure I'll hold off for another week. I'd be remiss, however, not to mention the band's appearance at the Gypsy Ballroom on June 10, opening up for experimental rockers Tortoise.
Dallas hard-rockers The Feds have a new CD titled, rather enchantingly, High Heels and Hand Grenades, a split release with Tulsa's Upside. An all-ages CD release party featuring both bands, as well as Red Animal War, will be at the Gypsy Tea Room on June 12, starting at 9 p.m. Also, this week Ticketmaster adds to its fortune as a slew of summer concerts rolls into town, including KISS, Poison, Chicago, Earth Wind & Fire, Fleetwood Mac and some dude named Prince. For more on that, turn the page.
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