Happy days are here

 

 

The Milling Gowns

They’re happy. Trust me.

 

 

In fact, these days the members of The Milling Gowns might be downright elated. After years of hard work, writing, rewriting, and arranging — not to mention multiple recording sessions stretched out over many months — their self-produced CD Diving Bell Shallows is done. And they’re celebrating.

 

The release party for the band’s first full-length CD is Saturday, Sept. 13 at the Lily Pad in Cambridge, beginning with a performance by Dan Blakeslee, followed by The Milling Gowns. Just know — as Milling Gowns’ fans are well aware — that despite the celebratory atmosphere, the music may not inspire anyone to jump up and down with glee.

 

“Gloom pop minus guitar.” Those are the four words down to which drummer Allen Esser has boiled the band’s unique sound. Other descriptions have included melancholy, melodramatic, somber, sad and soulful.

 

Interestingly, the style contradicts their personalities. They laugh and joke like anyone else — I’ve witnessed this firsthand. But in making their music, they gravitate toward the sadder, darker side of life.

 

When it comes to music, “I love the dark stuff,” said pianist Sharon Crumrine. She and vocalist M. build the songs around M.’s words and melodies, specifically aiming to create mood and feeling. That task is then passed on to viola player Betty Widerski and Allen, who add their own textures and stylings to the tunes.

 

The result is something like an organic, or “unplugged” version of alternative bands from 20 to 30 years ago. Listening to M. sing, you can hear the influence of bands like The Smiths and Echo & The Bunnymen.

 

“I’ve always used music as a catharsis. It’s how I’ve channeled a lot of things,” M. said. “I can turn something I didn’t know what to do with into a song.”

 

OK, so the songs can help you process difficult issues and get them out of your system. But no happy tunes?

 

“If you have something happy happen, maybe you don’t need to get rid of it,” M. said with a laugh.

 

See? The guy’s funny.

 

Alfred Hitchcock liked making scary movies. Rodney Dangerfield liked making comedies. And whether you call their songs gloomy, melancholy or sad — it’s what The Milling Gowns like doing.

 

“We do this because we want to and because we need to,” Betty said.

 

Allen agreed.

 

“You need to please yourself. That’s the bottom line,” he said.

 

 

FIRST TIME

Not too surprisingly, Allen’s early exposure to art came through music, as he and his brother started a punk rock band while in their teens in Tampa, Florida. Allen drummed, of course, while his brother sang and played guitar. For Betty, art initially took the form of drawings she made of other people. While in sixth grade, she started illustrating people and the things she imagined were going on inside the subject’s head. It was all a part of her habit of observing other people, she said. And, amazingly, she managed to pull it off without anyone ever slapping or scolding her.

 

 

WORST TIME

The good news was that The Milling Gowns were playing a gig — and it was with another band that had a decent following, which meant it was a good exposure opportunity for The Milling Gowns. Unfortunately, the other band was known for playing Top 40 cover songs, and the crowd that had gathered for the gig came to hear just that — and nothing else. So by the time The Milling Gowns were winding down their set of their original, melancholy tunes, the crowd was chanting the name of the cover band.