Firewater

"Bourbon and Division"

by John Vettese

Last week, we suggested you check out DeVotchKa's gypsy dance party at the TLA. This week we implore you to dig a bit further back. Now, it would be silly to say Tod Ashley was the progenitor of fusing Balkan folk with indie rock. I mean, hell, Rain Dogs, perhaps? Zappa? Fiddler on the Roof? How far back do you want to go? So maybe his Firewater wasn't the first to attempt this unconventional sound, but it did predate today's trend by about 10 years, long before most scenesters had a graphical fixation on the Cyrillic alphabet or knew what klezmer was. Recent showings have been fair, but Firewater's strongest work remains its delectably dark 1996 debut, Get Off the Cross, We Need the Wood for the Fire. Two tracks in, the slinky "Bourbon and Division" sets the scene of romantic rejection in the middle of a downtown carnival — sax bleating in minor key, claves clapping and a gourd croaking. Ashley's misanthropic character stumbles past the gawkers and along the crooked streets, through trilling snare and tremolo violin, wondering how he got here and whether it was worth it. He's hopeful for a moment ("Can the darkness be as empty as it seems when the factories of night hum with their dreams?"), but a gaunt stray dog crossing his path knocks him aground in a drunkard's despair. It's a portrait of someone at their lowest, and it's a pure freaking celebration.

Firewater plays North Star on Sunday.