
Feature Article by Ben
Krieger
On a warm December night at Sin-e, Beat the Devil starts off their show with bassist Mishka Shubaly parting the packed house, beating a mammoth marching drum on his way to the stage. A war cry overture is typical for this band's live show, but tonight is different. In addition to the drum, lead singer Shilpa Ray is sounding off on a snow shovel, bashing it mercilessly with some sort of wrench until-- as Shubaly will notice after the set-- the stage is sprinkled with metal shavings. This is what separates Beat the Devil from most of their NYC peers: while most bands are comfortable with "turning it up to 11" in an attempt to drown out their demons, this one isn’t satisfied until they've kicked the crap out of their demons. Like Motorhead and the Afghan Whigs before them, this group isn't trying to "beat" their devils in a race, but rather in the alley behind the bar.
Beat the Devil is a muscular rock trio, including Ray, Shubaly, and any drummer that can keep up with them (Career Club's Jens Carstensen is currently moonlighting in the skins chair). Much has been written about the low growl of Ray's voice. She can weave a melody that flirts beautifully from raga to pentatonic and back. On the other hand, her howls resemble Nick Cave after a lighter fluid binge. Ray indicates that her uninhibited, visceral sound is released rather than planned; she just doesn’t think too much about proper vocal technique. As far as female singers are concerned, Ray is the yang to the yin of Joni Mitchell, and just as effective in her opposite extremes. For many bands, the concept of "sounding unique" involves unusual sounds piled on top of a more traditional songwriting instrument. Beat the Devil throws the rock guitar out the window altogether and places the harmonium-- a fringe instrument in Western music-- dead center. The lack of harsh, mid-range distortion in the band's sound only serves to enhance the power of Ray's vocals. With Shubaly running the gamut from Wyman to Kilmister on his bass, Beat the Devil weaves beautiful dirges that resemble the more experimental sides of Zeppelin within a minimalist framework that echoes the Doors.
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Currently residing in Brooklyn, Ray was born and raised in New Jersey, and her firm resistance to the system is indicates as much. The singer is a shopgirl during the workweek. Like fellow Secaucus rockers the Wrens, this "working schmuck," as she puts it, shapes her words around that ever-frustrating daily grind. She just wants to rock. Adulthood brings inevitable responsibilities, but Ray's songs attempt to separate the wheat from the chaff, lashing out at the trivial, materialistic goals that her generation tends to set in its sights. She feels the societal pressures as well, and the "ideal woman" images that run rampant in the retail business are day-to-day realities for her. Ray comes across as a teenager at heart, violently lashing out at every bullshit aspect of adulthood that swarms around her. A key to understanding her philosophical struggle reveals itself in the "Strokes Epiphany" she shares during our interview. Upon hearing "Hard to Explain" with fresh ears one night, she suddenly felt "hearts in [her] eyes," and realized that her previous hatred of that polarizing success story was based on all sorts of ridiculously "adult" reasons, none of which had to do with the music itself. In every aspect, from the sound to the words within, Ray's own songs represent small victories towards a life where her inner child, as well as those of her fans, can thrive.
"We’re all pilgrims on the same highway... Shilpa is just closer to Buddha." Anyone familiar with BTD's tall, (currently) clean-cut bassist knows that this is classic Shubaly self-deprecation. His sharp, both-feet-in-the-gutter drinking tunes have yet to grace the band's repertoire, but if Ray is the group's songwriting heart, Shubaly is the cornerstone of their success as a working unit. Having weathered NYC as both band member and booking agent for years, he approaches musical projects with a first-rate ear and enough patience for the whole band. "Failure is the best practice for success," he states, and can whip out great supporting stories upon request. Shubaly brings his characteristic stage banter to the group, bashing heads with Ray as if the two were rival siblings. The marching drum is his attempt to invoke audience participation. In a town where the crowd is often filled with other musician friends, Shubaly realizes the importance of maintaining as much communal energy as possible, and compares the Devils' live shows to "family dinner." There are plenty of musicians--even backing vocalists--who never invest in their band's lyrics past the shout-out choruses. Shubaly, in contrast, studies Ray's words carefully, imagining what his own role could be within the song and adjusting his performance accordingly. When Beat the Devil does eventually find the perfect full-time drummer, s/he will be a musician who approaches the material with equally well-rounded dedication.
Stylistically, Beat the Devil is one of those rare, versatile bands who can share a bill with a folk troubadour like David LK Murphy one night and sex metalheads like the Giraffes on the next. The sound is currently showcased on their eponymous, 5-song debut. Excellent as it is, the CD only hints at the band's potential (they are currently planning to tackle a full length project). When asked where they hope to be in a year, it is telling that neither member's initial answer actually mentions the band, but rather a desire to escape their day jobs. "I don't want to be working for a construction company in a year," states Shubaly, and his sentiment fits perfectly within the pent-up, bourbon-drenched energy that Ray spews into her material. The musical ambition is there and when prompted, Shubaly expresses his desire to tour with the project, but it is clear that he and Ray share a primary goal for playing in Beat the Devil: finding peace in their lives by rocking the shit out of the insanity.
http://www.beatthedevil.com/ |