His own drum

Aaron Katz steps out from behind the kit

By Sam Pfeifle

The Aaron Katz Band plays the Skinny, in Portland, March 9. Call (207) 871-8983.

THE KATZ OUT OF THE BAG: with Simplest Warrior, Aaron moves beyond Percy Hill.

Six or seven years ago, it was tough for a jam band to get much of a following. The twin behemoths of jam, the Grateful Dead and Phish, gobbled up most of the fan base with their never-ending tours and if you dared to play that type of music, well then you were a Dead clone. Or worse, clones of the Dead clones, Phish.

But then Jerry died, and more recently Phish called it quits, and all of a sudden it was like the sun broke out over bands like Deep Banana Blackout, String Cheese Incident, moe., the Disco Biscuits, Strangefolk, the New Deal — all manner of jam bands who were heading toward more funk, more bluegrass, more electronic, more creativity than those that had come before them.

New Hampshire’s own Percy Hill certainly benefited from the atmosphere when their Color in Bloom took home a Jammy (the Jam community’s version of the you-know-what) for studio album of the year in 2000. That’s quite an honor, and on the basis of those songs they had toured the country for three years, doing that jam-band thing.

Many of the songs for that album came from the pen of Aaron Katz, asked to join Percy Hill in 1997 as a drummer, but with a history as a piano and guitar player. Percy Hill wanted to move toward more compact, straightforward songwriting, and Katz is a songwriter from way back — it’s in his blood. “My parents are musicians, my whole family are musicians,” he says. “I’ve been playing piano and drums since I was a baby. I probably wrote my first song when I was seven. But I got serious about writing songs in high school and college.”

College for Katz was UNH, and that’s where Percy Hill found him and brought him along for two straight years of touring. “Percy Hill,” says Katz, “were really jam-band giants, so I was thrust right into that world.” The success was fun, but “the drums aren’t really my first love,” says Katz. “What I really enjoy is singing my songs from the front of the stage.”

So, in the fall of 2000, Katz started in on a solo project in the studio with producer Josh Pryor. That’s led to the album, Simplest Warrior, that Katz is touring behind right now, with a full band to jam behind him. Well, on stage they jam, anyway, but Katz’s studio album is much more along the lines of innovative pop songwriters like Paul Simon, Matt Johnson, even folks like Chris Isaak and Marc Cohn (that’s a compliment).

“Faith (truth behind the styrofoam)” opens the album, and, immediately, parallels to Genesis-era Peter Gabriel are apparent. Katz’s voice is crisp and young, and this definitely doesn’t sound like your average guitar-noodling jam band. It’s more like ’80s synth pop. There are nods to the new-age crowd. There are glimmers of jazz experimenters like the Weather Report. “Radio Line Saviour” is later Gabriel (So? Usê), but the references are unmistakable: Katz’s dreamy Wurlitzer and laconic vocals, lyrics like “welcome to reality/ the clock is changing overhead/ you are insight/ to the ways of fantasy”; and did you notice that “u” in “Saviour”?

ýSimplest Warrior” leans more toward reggae-lite, a la the Police (even going so far as to employ an echo on Jason Yost’s guitar) and “Aubade” gets at more of the Isaak/Cohn feel. It’s a love song, or as Katz put it, “it’s about being lost in your love and never wanting to be found.” Here you also get a taste of Dave DiCenso’s drumming (you may know him from his years in Two Ton Shoe).

His work on the skins comes more to the fore on “The Now,” which was a crowd pleaser with Percy Hill and is a tune Katz has chosen to carry over to the new band. Of course, that’s got to be tough, playing an old song with a new band.

“No one really likes change,” Katz says. “People really like what they’re used to. And right now, there’s different [musicians] on stage playing the songs that they’re used to. But then the people learn to keep their ears open and they realize that the song is still good.”

It certainly has a different sound to it. “Josh Pryor brings a big sound to the band with his guitar,” says Katz, “and definitely a new direction for the song. [DiCenso] has a lot of power behind him. He’s much more heavily driven. And our bass player, Pat Dole, has a different approach, so the songs do take a different shape.”

The trick is carrying the fans over from Percy Hill and keeping them happy while trying to build new fans. In some ways, Katz is in the same boat as Reid Genauer, who left Strangefolk amicably to go his own way. So it was fitting that the two have played together quite a bit recently. Katz reports the shows have been great, and he never knows where the fans will come from next.

Also, Katz has to decide on a sound at some point. “I’ve moved past the album so far already,” he says. “We’re playing new stuff, brand-new stuff, and brand-spankin’ new stuff.” In other words, the songs are coming. “I’ve learned not to force it,” he says. “I’ve learned to just accept the mystery and it’s been happening a lot.”

In this wide-open world of new music, new mediums, and new bands, it’s likely that songwriting will carry him in the jam band scene.

707 + X = Deck Eleven And the name is not the only change For Deck Eleven, a four-piece rocker out of Portsmouth, there’s change afoot. Their new album, Volume 1, is a distinct progression of their sound. Conga-player Lael Eccard, due in large part to this new direction, has moved on to play with Stone Soup. They’re focusing more on the Boston scene, trying, as drummer Dave Nebbia puts it, “to go from being a New Hampshire band that plays Boston, to being a band that has a draw in Boston.” But fans of the band know that the real change is the name: as in, they changed their name from 707 to Deck Eleven. There’s a good story behind that. You might remember that 707 had some success landing “Penny” with AEI music, a company that compiles in-store CDs for places like Abercrombie & Fitch. (see “707 go retail” at portlandphoenix.com). Well, that success mounted to the point where every song off their debut album has been used in some store somewhere. “Now they’re using most of the disc for a satellite feed to stores who just want a radio broadcast, instead of a CD,” says Nebbia. “I was in Dave & Buster’s [a pool-hall, game chain mostly in the south], and I was sitting there in Atlanta and our “Electric” comes on. Which is weird, you know, sitting in Atlanta, in a bar, and you hear yourself while you’re paying a video game.” Problem is, all that song usage leads to royalties (well, getting paid’s not the problem), which are distributed through ASCAP, where songwriters copyright their music. And ASCAP knows of another 707, a British group from the ‘70s. “Even though the songs have special numbers to track them, etc.,” says Nebbia, “the money kept getting held up.” So, thanks to a booze cruise guitarist Jim MacPherson took where the bar was on deck 11, the band has a new name. “We went through a hundred bad ones,” laughs Nebbia. Both the name change and the new album are improvements. The sound has become much more focused, with big guitars supported by nice production from South Berwick’s Thundering Sky studio. They’ve also started to shorten up their tunes, getting away from a few jam tendencies and working toward more standard radio rock as have bands like The Calling and Three Doors Down on the national front. Particularly, “Adeline” has pop possibilities, with lead singer Curt Hanig (who may have listened to a lot of Singles soundtrack bands in his day) barking out staccato opening lines that remind of high school cliques and MacPherson joining in for a rocking chorus. “Memory of May” has a radio-friendly acoustic opening, a nice melodic chorus, and some pretty drum fills from Nebbia. The new release makes it clear that Deck Eleven’s progress is worth watching. Deck Eleven release Volume 1, with WOW, Zoe’s Choice, and Miravie, March 8, at Asylum, in Portland. Call (207) 772-8274.

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at spfeifle@phx.com.