Brown Bags (Noah)

There’s a defiant indie-streak cutting its way across The Bay Area these days. And I don’t mean just music produced independently, but rather, a strong collection of local acts which embody both the lo-fi sound and the ramshackle, anything could happen, energy of the glory days of indie rock. Brown Bags, a local outfit hailing from the wine-soaked terra of the North Bay, blends an almost strung out folk twang with a just a dash of bombastic, room-filling, drudge-style hardcore. It isn’t exactly a combination you’d think would work outside of a winery open mic, but with the tangled vocals of the two singers, creating a strange, warbling bridge, the music takes on a dense, almost sinister tone. More than this, Brown Bags isn’t comfortable just knocking out a two and half minute piece of indie rock thievery, choosing instead to craft a nearly six minute musical journey from quiet and twangy, to big and loud and lo-fi and back again. Summoner is a song that plays out with intention. A full, foundation shaking bit of music that harkens back to a time when music could still be challenging.