The Hard Lessons
(with the Avatars and Tyvek)
Live at the Halfway Inn, Ann Arbor, M

Deep in the bowels of U of M’s East Quadrangle, between the laundry machines and the dumpsters, lies the Halfway Inn: a small, fluorescently lit basement dining area, known to natives as “the Halfass.” By day, the Halfass functions as something of a collegiate greasy spoon, serving up diner-quality food – along with overpriced pints of Ben & Jerry’s, loud “underground” music and some of the worst customer service in the known world – to a steady stream of college kids and socially awkward hipsters. But by night, the Halfass becomes something else entirely: that most treasured of college indie-scene necessities, the ALL-AGES VENUE. Picture, if you will, a hundred or so undergrads; packed like sardines in all their American Apparel finery, with fair-to-middling sound and no booze or cigarettes to cover up the distinctive odor of close-proximity fart. Oh yes, it’s glamorous. And the shows? Noise, mainly, or K Records also-rans – music to wear unnecessary scarves to. It’s all very indie, very grass-roots…and frankly, it’s about the least auspicious place for a real, live rock show one could imagine.

Unless, that is, the Hard Lessons are on the bill. It’s a damn-near indisputable fact (at least in Detroit, Lansing, and their respective metro areas) that the Hard Lessons can deliver their rock to any venue, be it all-ages cafeteria, high school prom, senior center or funeral home. And on Friday night, deliver they did: right to the basement of our beloved dorm.

Not that there weren’t a few bumps along the way. Local openers Tyvek made the unfortunate decision to take the stage with a tentative guest guitarist and a few tuneless, droning “songs” which gave a pretty good impression of what it would sound like to hear the Cale line-up of the Velvet Underground being tortured by a cheap synthesizer. Granted, the set improved once the auxiliary player was jettisoned and their songs stopped trying to be “textured”; Tyvek’s strengths are in loud and brash spazz-punk, no less and certainly no more. But as much as these guys have mastered the art of making a racket in cardigans and coke-bottle specs, even the most bracing of their music is missing one vital element: namely, hooks. By the time the singer (who had just taken an unintentional dive off the stage) regaled us with the story of his first band smearing Twinkies on the Halfass stage and getting banned for life, I found myself wishing Tyvek had brought the Twinkies and left the lame tunes at home.

The night took a turn for the better, though, once the Avatars launched into their patented mix of neo-garage/soul and sparkly ’77 Blondie licks. There’s a reason why this band is so consistantly fun: simply put, the Avatars play for no reason but fun. No “messages,” no art pretensions, and certainly no empty cool-kid posturing – just good old-fashioned (though never quite wholesome) rock’n'roll fun. And they were in particularly fine form at the Halfass, as they ripped through an airtight, all-rockers set with room for the spiky Nuggets thrash of “Honey Do” and the amped-up girl group rush of “There Was a Time” alike.

But the unmistakable heroes of the hour could only be the Hard Lessons, and they certainly stepped up to the plate: taking command of the audience from the minute they hit the stage and not letting go until they’d had their way with us. Opener “Share Your Vanity” sounded a little less rabble-rousing than usual, thanks to Gin’s guitar amp being turned down a few too many notches; but a four-count after the last chord had shuddered to a halt, they were already on to new song “Bamboo”: Ko Ko’s bass synth stretched taut over a nervy drum pulse from the Anvil and the tension so thick you could feel the guitar, even if you couldn’t hear it too well.

Then, they turned up – and the show roared to life like there were afterburners on the back. “I Can’t Stand It” was just massive, the sound of two years of live blood, sweat and tears coming together until every last handclap breakdown was perfect. To say that the Hard Lessons’ already amazing chemistry has improved in the last few months would be a huge understatement; it’s clear that their recent West Coast jaunt has treated them well. Gin’s guitar playing continues to grow in nuance: no longer content with just Fred “Sonic” Smith-style heroics, he peppers the slower songs with licks that smoulder before they catch fire…and he’s still airborne for at least 25% of the show. Meanwhile, Ko Ko Louise has never sounded better, hollering back-up vocals loud enough to fill a hundred Halfasses and then pushing it up a notch for spotlight numbers “That Other Girl” and “Love Gone Cold.” Last but not least, the Anvil must surely qualify as some kind of unsung hero in the metro Detroit scene: if there are better drummers playing in these parts, I sure as hell haven’t seen them.

Whether or not the audience would have agreed with my critical mincing, however, by the end of Friday night’s show they were putty in the Hard Lessons’ hands. An upbeat cover of Neil Young’s “Hey Hey, My My” – with none of the original’s mournfulness and all of its “rock and roll will never die” self-aggrandizement – had the kids singing along…and if you can make a roomful of self-conscious scenesters in their late teens and early twenties admit they know the words to a Neil Young song, then you’re okay in my book. Then, as if to apologize for causing such an egregious slip in cred, they invited a few fans onstage for the traditional audience participation number (“when you say alright, it makes me feel alright”) – the better for Gin to scale the speakers and sing perched, gargoyle-like, over the crowd.

Finally, the show over and “Milk and Honey” still ringing in our ears, we filed out the doors (or to the merch booth, where the band’s CD, Gasoline, was marked down to a $5 student special…which, dammit, I still couldn’t afford). It was midnight – remember, all-ages venue – and for some of us, the walk home was just a few flights of stairs long. But even for those who had seen the Hard Lessons before, to see them in close proximity – in our own basement, for five dollars, mere feet from the place where we use meal credits to buy greasy food from surly kids on work study – really was something. Keep up the good work, East Quad Music Co-op. This looks like the beginning of your best season yet.

Reviewed by Zach Hoskins