Marc Ribot’s punkjam trio Ceramic Dog had been playing low key gigs around town for a long time before really finding their voice on their second album, 2013’s Your Turn. That’s when they started to get mad. The sarcastic AF song was about musicians gleefully accepting social media presence over money for their work “Masters of the Internet” was both funny and angry, which isn’t the only thing Ceramic Dog does, but it’s what they do best. (It’s streaming for free on Bandcamp, btw. Just sayin’.)
Their quick new EP What I Did On My Long ‘Vacation’ was recorded in May at bassist/keyboardist/engineer Shahzad Ismaily’s home studio, each member tracking their parts in separate isolation booths. It came out last month as a limited CD that sold out fast (it can also be found on their Bandcamp page) that finds them again at their funny angry best.
Ceramic Dog is, to be sure, a musician’s band. Ribot has an uncanny way of playing leads like a rhythm guitarist, always on or bouncing off the beat. Drummer Ches Smith is versed in both jazz and rock drumming, and uses both to the band’s best advantage. Ismaily is a wonder, a sonic caulk gun filling in the gaps and filling out the sound with taste and smarts. Influences of Frank Zappa, Latin music and Philly soul seep through, but it’s the attitude that sells it. After an opening jam, “Beer” blast in, mocking the dudes at the bar (maybe the same ones who won’t shut up during the gig) but sung with the knowledge of having been there. After a couple more drinks (read: instrumental jams), the Dog lets loose with “Hippies Are Not Nice Anymore,” a sequel of sorts to “Masters of the Internet.” Without taking a breath, the album ends in a mournful prayer with “The Dead Have Come to Stay With Me.”
Long Vacation is in and out again in a half hour, but nine more tunes from the same session are slated for release in the spring. Hopefully by then they and we will have something new to be pissed off about.
Author
Kurt Gottschalk is a writer, journalist and broadcaster based in New York City.
