After spending the majority of my 34 years on this planet listening to a strange variety music, I sometimes feel like rock and roll is, in fact, dead. I don’t really even listen to much music these days due to the fact that I’m simply not interested. When I do listen, I’m usually listening from the perspective of a producer, an engineer and a fellow musician, hearing all of the technical nuances that tend to destroy the blissfulness of just plain enjoying the fuck out of rock music like I could when I was 13 years old with no responsibilities or worries.
A few years ago I met a guy whose band took me back to that summer in the early 90’s when "Black Hole Sun" was played on MTV every 20 minutes, of when I got my first Nirvana bootleg CD and would blast it on repeat until falling asleep in my twin bed back in the south hills of Pittsburgh, PA. The man who took me back to that wonderful place in time is none other than Oregon native John Barnaby who fronts the Portland based band Manx. I invited John into my house a few Saturdays ago to drink some shitty beer, talk about his band, their self titled record, his record label, the new record that’s in the works, and the raw energy that he exudes on stage. Before we got very far into the interview, John was roasting cron flakes and dancing in my studio apartment wearing a pair of platforms studded with plastic gemstones. And…well…I guess that this is all you really need to know. That is Manx and Manx rocks. Fucking hard. Their raw and punchy, high-energy live set makes you want to repeatedly smash your face against a wall in the best possible way. While watching them perform, you can expect to see a crowd of loyal and intoxicated fans going ape shit while Barnaby drops to his knees nailing some sort of wild bass solo – sweat pouring down his face soaking into his denim jacket – attempting to put out the fire in his stomach from the last shot he took. There’s no irony here. Manx is no frills rock n’ roll at its finest.
Manx usually plays around town and there is typically little if any cover. You can’t afford not to check these guys (and girl) out. Giant bass-wielding front man who has more stage presence than 90% of other local acts combined? Check. Foxy chick on guitar who rips 16 bar solos through an old NYC big muff? Check. Hard hitting, raw-as-all-hell drummer pounding on a set of tequila sunrise Vista-Lites that may or may not have once belonged to the late John Bonham? Check. Next time Manx is playing around town, go check them out. Trust me. Totally. Fucking. Worth it.
-DTB