'Everything Here is Wrong' comes out right

It was the standard $5 dollar show at Alleykatz. There I was, suffering through the lousy opening bands just to see the band I actually came for. But there's always a chance — the chance that keeps me coming back — that one of those lousy opening bands isn't actually lousy, and will end up catching my ear. Thus, a fateful small-town summer show introduced me to The Working Title, a youthful rock quartet from Charleston, S.C. I watched them electrify the venue, raising me from my arrogant and expectant wait for the headliner to receive a euphoric baptism in their emotional music. The Working Title worked for my admiration, and they're continuing to earn their keep. They've earned some fans as well on the underground circuit, and now they have an EP set for your ears.

The Working Title's EP, "Everyone Here is Wrong...," begins with their strength: melodics. "Rebuttal," the first track, is a piano-driven song laden with the falsetto moaning of Joel Hamilton, the band's front man, leading song writer and producer of the necessary 'rock star' mystique (think Jim Morrison). His falsettos bleed into the next track, "Something She Said," revealing the true meaning of the opening instrumentals: as were just a vehicle for this song. Using the melodically charged guitars, Hamilton spins out a surreal situation that seems to occur within his dreams.

The music's outward optimism quickly fades, as it is intravenously injected with a more morose subject in "Thoughts on Love's Mishaps." The faintly disturbing opening hook is already overpowered with distorted guitars by the time Hamilton chants "everyone here is wrong and everyone here has nothing good to say." This oscillating song with its emotive pleas proves to be the album's masterpiece. As embodied by "Thoughts About Love's Mishaps," it is their offbeat juxtaposition of moods and well of conflicting emotions that defines The Working Title's groundbreaking first effort. Fittingly, the follow-up tracks to the album's angriest tune are more upbeat songs pondering the happier side of love: "The Mary Getaway" and "Beloved." But just as the pendulum of the grandfather clock swings to one extreme, the musical mood slides back to remorseful and elegiac pessimism.

Maybe the album's tendencies toward distrust and cynicism can be chalked up to Hamilton's roots in punk music, even though he has matured beyond simple "angry white boy" music. The Working Title's melodies trump any eighth-note power-chord bridge ever played. Just flip on "There is None" and try to tell me you don't dig that acoustic guitar/snare drum 1-2 punch.

Despite the album's strengths, The Working Title will really spread its music on the road. They are a smalltime band on a smalltime label (Redemption Recording Co.), which leaves them only nightly shows in distant towns and the voices of their supporters to spread the word. Armed with a viciously cool stage presence, though, they leave audiences with a sense of amazement at every show. When I saw them for the third time last Friday, I overheard another concertgoer in front of me offhandedly remark, "These guys are good. I just saw them a couple weeks back on this tour in D.C." After their all-too-short six-song set, I doubt that a single person in the venue would have declined to say that they were at least good, if not great. After every night's show, this band can roll on down the road with their heads held high, knowing that they just won themselves some newborn fans.

Once again, it is Hamilton's live performance that leaves the most lasting impression. It is reminiscent of the convulsions produced by the Shakers in the 1800s: The energy of the songs seems to control the lead singer and guitarist's movements to the point that he is left completely breathless at the end of songs, hardly able to utter a simple "thank you" for the crowd's applause.

Even their new material, never before heard by anyone in the audience, was received warmly as they continued to chisel out a solid fan base. New songs like "Nothing Less Radiant," which is as fresh as Krispy Kreme's red light "fresh and hot" donuts, accomplish a new level of synthesis for the band and herald a maturation of the band's calling card: melody. "Nothing Less Radiant" moves from simple beginning riffs to a dance pop hit driven by its thumping bass. "The Crash," also coming out on the new disc in March, features much more bass, prodding the crowd into a foot-stomping and head-banging dance. These two songs, along with at least eight others, are currently being mixed and prepared for release on their first full effort in early spring.

So, it was a $5 pass and a couple of magic marker "X's" that guided me to the gem of The Working Title, found in the chest of lousy opening bands that typically crowd such cheap shows. Treasure finds such as these must be clutched close to the heart and ear — or at least as close as their spastic and exhaustive stage presence will allow. The on-stage energy of this band is unlike any other similar smalltime band that I have ever seen, and every song plays to the members' musical strengths. Consider this your warning: Start listening to them, one of the best groups on the smalltime circuit right now.