A profile of local noise-rockers Richmond Bread Riot from our vaults by ANDREW MORGAN
Editor's note: This feature was originally slated to run in our summer print issue, which was abandoned at the press. More recently we've readied it for our forthcoming archives section, but when we heard that RBR noisemaker Ross Benson was planning a move to Portland after the New Year and that lead singer and guitarist Josh Abbott was planning on following him several months later, we decided to go ahead and bring it out to help you through your grief.
Josh Abbott is playing a solo show Tuesday, December 27 at 3009 West 3rd Street, and his mates are joining him later, 10:30-11ish, for a RBR show at 318 Barton. Look for at least one more RBR show in January, likely at Juanita's. Localist will keep you posted.
On April 1, 1863, Mary Jackson, with a tall white feather standing erect in her hat, led a group of angry, emaciated Richmond women to the office of Virginia Governor John Letcher to demand food.
The War (you know the one) had been particularly unkind to the Confederate capitol. Surrounding farmland had been decimated and whatever food and resources that remained were commandeered by the military. Inflation on all necessities soared as the Confederate dollar plummeted. Richmond's population tripled as thousands of soldiers (many wounded), wartime profiteers and gamblers, and armies of prostitutes moved in and further strained the already devastated economy. VD and smallpox made the rounds. For dinner: Broiled rat!
Weary of rat, Mary Jackson and her crew demanded that Governor Letcher dole out the food the military had been hoarding. Letcher told them to come back later.
And so they did, this time with a mob of women, men (the few that remained and were still in possession of at least most of their limbs), and children armed with whatever they could get their hands on. They looted commissaries and businesses with cries of “Bread! Bread! Bread!”
What's all this have to do with our local noisemakers, Richmond Bread Riot? Probably not much other than it sounds damn cool and it's memorable. What more could you ask of a band name?
“We were staying at a friend's house in Searcy and his parents had all these obscure magazines around,” explains drummer Jason Griswold. “We were bored and looking for names. We had no idea what to call ourselves. We'd only been practicing for like a week. For a day we were gonna call ourselves The Kidneys.”
Then they saw on the cover of a history mag the words Richmond Bread Riot. They investigated the article within and were intrigued by the strange and often overlooked historical episode.
“We thought it fit,” says Griswold. “And we needed a name. We wanted a name with, like, three words in it. I don't know why. We thought it sounded cool or something.”
Richmond Bread Riot is guitarist and vocalist Josh Abbott (a.k.a Josh Migraine) and Griswold, who are all of 20 and 21, respectively, and for each of them, RBR is their first proper band. The tools they employ are spare. A stripped-down kit for Griswold. A Fender Jaguar through an old Bassman head and Marshall cabinet for Abbott, plus a Big Muff and some sort of flanging/looping apparatus for stomping.
The minimalist approach was intentional. “When we started I was using these lower tunings on my guitar and we liked it and thought it was enough,” says Abbott. “And I was into a few bands that didn't use bass players: The Gossip, Lightning Bolt and some others.”
One of the stresses of such an arrangement is the increased responsibility of the two members to fill out the sound, to maintain the minimal stance without sounding anemic (well, that and increased pressure to not fuck up, as there's no one to fall back on). RBR certainly pulls it off, but after an April performance at White Water Tavern, they hinted that they had grown a bit bored with their approach.
There's still no bass, but things have since changed: RBR might now be considered a three-piece, albeit not your traditional power trio. As of late, Ross Benson has been RBR's ragtag Martin Swope-like character, squatting behind or to the side and messing about with a Boss SP-202 “Dr. Sample” and a guitar, which he uses not so much as an instrument but as a sound effect. With these, he creates waves that roll, stab, and crackle underneath and between the songs proper.
Benson's addition may not be permanent, but for now the sounds he adds to the mix help the band avoid stasis. “We got back from a trip to Austin,” says Abbott, “and played a show at Cadron [Settlement, outside of Conway]. We did this noise/improv thing with [Benson] and it went really well and we wanted to continue to do that. I mean, we'll still play shows without him if we have to. But it takes some of the pressure off me.”
Even with Benson crouching behind, the band's sound is still minimal, though far from sparse. And despite Abbott name-dropping bass-less bands as influences, Bleach-era Nirvana and Sonic Youth—especially SY circa the late '80s and '90s, in their more straightforward riffing, melodic phase—are in fact the most obvious touchstones, and the band readily and unapologetically admits loving both of those bands. The RBR boys employ low-slung, crunchy, and ridiculously catchy riffs underpinned by rapid-fire snare and a thumping kick that, dare we say it, grooves.
All this is cut with Ross's noise and topped with Abbott's voice. And what a voice. Abbott is possessed of one of the finest rocking howls around and simple, sticky melodies climb around in his artless baritone. At which point RBR manage, with a nonchalant push of Abbott's slipping glasses back up his nose, to crank the noise. Abbott drops the pretty melodies and unleashes a pharynx-shredding litany of...well, who knows what he's on about. Whatever it is, it rocks, and in the great tradition of their '90s forebears, RBR do the loud-soft-loud and they do it well, though their hallmark is still the loud-loud-loud.
Abbott is currently back in his hometown of Searcy and Griswold hangs in Benton. Being nearly two hours apart has slowed the band's momentum a bit, but plans to tour are in the works, with shows planned in Texas, Missouri, and Louisiana in August, in addition to their regular appearances around Little Rock and central Arkansas. They also hope to record in the near future with Chris Avakian at his Benton studio, lovingly referred to as “The Barn” because, well, it's in a barn. In the meantime, RBR's self-produced demo, Redemption Demo, is available from the band themselves at shows.
And beyond all that? Things get pretty fuzzy. Like back in olde Richmond (see how I'm bringing this back around?!). In these historically blurry situations, one may as well engage in a bit of myth-building. For instance, at an early summer riverfront show that lasted a bit beyond the park closing time of midnight, RBR was busy rocking the audience of 20 or so humans and 20 million or so mosquitos when the bike cops rolled in, presumably to pull the plug. They were instead so enthralled by the noise they raised their voices and urged the band on with chants of “Bread! Bread! Bread!” It could be true! Additionally, did you know that Griswold just recently married the young and beautiful Andrea? What you may not know (with good reason) is that she is a direct descendent of Barbara Idol, one of several Richmonders arrested in the Bread Riot of 1863! Idol was charged with stealing a ham of bacon and some other things. In her defense she claimed that she was just walking down the street minding her own business during a riot when a strange lady gave her the ham. She got off with a misdemeanor. Believe it or don't.
