"Daisy Glaze Records Live EP" by Alex Ferrari (from WHAT!? Magazine Vol. 3 No. 1, February 1995)
January 2, 1995. Aaron and Carla Poehler of Daisy Glaze got together with Phil Traicoff, leader of Bloomington's legendary band Virginia's Scrapings as well as owner of Renegade Studios. "Phil," they said, "we're playing tomorrow night at the Bluebird. We want you to record it. Can we do it?"
They talked for awhile, figured out scheduling, hashed out a fair price, did some logistical juggling, and eventually Phil leaned back on the couch, grinned, and in his trademark rasp said, "Yeah, we're gonna do this thing."
January 3, 1995. After a hectic, tumultuous 1994 (which did see the completion of the Hit & Run EP), Daisy Glaze is anxious to get 1995 off to a good start. The band has cut down its Bloomington concert schedule to a few choice shows per year; in the past Daisy Glaze would play once a month or more here in town. The change has resulted in a healthier, more productive band, but at this point most of Bloomington's Daisy Glaze fans haven't had a chance to see them play live since at least September. Many are, understandably, anxious. Despite the coldest temperatures yet this winter and the fact that most of Bloomington's Indiana University student population is still away on Christmas break, the turnout this arctic night is many times greater than anticipated. The band has developed a plethora of new material in the intervening months, including several songs which will see their Bloomington stage debut tonight. The band takes to the stage with a pair of relative classics from the Hit & Run EP--"Encore" and "First Last & Only" and then, invigorated by the crowd, dives right into the new material with a blast of energy.
"Trigger Happy", a crushing steamroller of a song sung by Carla is blasted out with stunning accuracy; its machine-gun hook rivets the crowd's attention as Carla belts the lyrics, containing a sizable dose of the cold, hard truth about the nature of music:"You can be a big star, baby/If you put your life in it/But everyone assumes you're nothing/If you just decide to quit…"
By this point, the audience is beginning to get a clue as to just how much Daisy Glaze has developed in the intervening months since their last local show. The next song brings the point home even more. "Red, Cold, Crisp", a jagged, surreal collision of imagery that paints a bitter portrait as written by Carla. "No one's special, nothing's dear/No one cares if I am here/I could go or I could stay/But nothing really goes away…"
Up until this point in the show, guitarist Aaron Poehler has stayed away from the vocal mic (excepting the opening "Encore"), keeping to the shadows. Now he steps forward with a song seemingly designed for this bar environment and audience, titled "Last Call". "It's the last call for alcohol," he begins, "so you stub your cigarette out in the hall/The band's given up singing the same damn song/So as time goes, it won't be long…" Towards the middle of the song a moment occurs that seems to freeze time, that stops my heart if only for a minute, as he whispers, then shouts: "I hope you're happy/Is all I can say/BUT I GUESS IT NEVER MATTERED ANYWAY". I have no words to describe it. It can only be experienced.
The band pauses for a short breath, then takes out their next target with Carla's "Estrogen O.D.", a concise number that puts the lie to the manufactured bullshit "riot grrrl" movement and the whole pack of useless 'punk' music whores: "I think women's lib's played a trick on me/When slut-junk arty rednecks scream 'equality'/Come and check for sobriety/I think it's another estrogen o.d."
The audience is taken completely off-guard yet again as Carla puts down her violin and brings over a seemingly ancient Moog-type keyboard to play "I Lost", as Aaron takes the vocal: "I could have been somebody, but that ain't saying much/I always knew I'd end up this way/I wanted everything but I got fucked/I lost/I lost/There was little to lose, I don't regret the loss…"
As far as Daisy Glaze has taken the audience over the course of this monumental show, the concluding number is like taking the musical ground covered in the set and squaring--no, cubing it. It's like taking Pandora's mythological box and tearing the whole fucking lid off with a chainsaw, letting all the demons loose to create absolute anarchy while still maintaining--beyond all reason--a clear, tuneful song, of all things.
Visibly weary, yet exhilarated, Daisy Glaze leaves the stage. My world, for one, may never be the same again, and I wouldn't want it to be.
