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Gonzo Report: Sitting through Dad Rock to get to Enrique Sotelo
Could Audio Perdisco be harboring a future guitar god?
Enrique Sotelo: a scorcher on the strings.
It’s a Wednesday at The Belly Up in Solana Beach, and I pass the time eavesdropping in line as a young woman named Abby discusses a helicopter that is flying at that very moment over her house, an event she has been informed of via a phone call about a fugitive. Abby and her companion Cliff — who is, coincidentally a helicopter pilot — are now characters in my adventure. They’re here because they love live music, but they seem completely unaware of the hype surrounding Audio Perdisco guitarist Enrique Sotelo, who is gaining a reputation as the hottest guitarist in San Diego — drawing comparisons to the Fallbrook Kid himself, Anthony Cullins.
Once inside, security guards are protecting the alcove where the restrooms are located. I suspect they’re guarding the restroom while Sotelo uses it. I’m a journalist, so it’s my job to investigate. But as I stride up to them, my confidence is shaken by the nearby sound of a glass shattering — I start to worry that I will be blamed. Then my sense of purpose deflates when security tells me they’re just blocking the entrance adjacent to the restaurant, and they’re not Sotelo’s personal bathroom bodyguards.
Guards aside, the Belly Up has a laid-back atmosphere, and a consistently pristine sound that makes it a great place to see a concert with fellow music lovers. (Even if some restaurant patrons like to sneak into the show room after dining.) The theme of the night is “Locals Only,” with four bands providing the soundtrack. The first two, Wave Parade and Born to Rise, are competent, but I’ve heard Soundgarden and Alice In Chains before, and the imitators don’t excite me. On my way out to my nicotine fix, I see Abby and Cliff, who give their succinct review of both bands as “dad rock” and wonder why Audio Perdisco has two drum sets.
The floor seems more packed after my smoke, but that may just be the energy and dancing that sweeps through the crowd. I look up Sotelo after a few songs to see which guitarist he is. He’s good, very good, but so is the rest of the band. Sotelo shines during the solos he takes, but it’s the group’s locked rhythm that makes my jaw drop. They operate as a solid unit, with everyone serving the song. Given that blues bands are by their very nature derivative, I marvel at the fresh sound they make. They remind me of early J. Geils, when they didn’t give a fuck about appealing to the masses. During a number called “Don’t Do That,” a patron climbs on the column by the stage and is told by security to get down. Then a woman does it, and I imagine the security singing “don’t do that” while telling her to get down as well. Each member takes a solo, including both drummers. Once unchained from the group, each one puts on an effective display of individual style.
As I head out to smoke again, I pass Abby and Cliff once more and hear, “That’s what they need two drummers for!” Outside, the band, including Sotelo, is hanging out, surrounded by both people they know and new fans congratulating them. I shake Sotelo’s hand and tell him I came to see him play for an article. He seems surprised and starts complimenting his bandmates, stating that he learns a lot from his riff partner, Garret Brubaker. Sotelo can’t keep the smile off his face when discussing the blues players that influenced him — deep cuts way beyond my knowledge. Then he tells me Brubaker loves metal.
When Brubaker joins us, we discuss our love of heavy music, and I encourage him to see Megadeth while he can. I soon lose the duo in the swarm of people approaching them, and watch as a drunk man engages drummer Nick Dejesso, asking for a hug, making fun of his ‘70s style shirt, and then yelling that nobody can tell him shit about drumming. It’s funny to me, but more impressive that Dejesso keeps his cool and deflects the liquid courage. Like his bandmates, he lights up when discussing his influences, such as Neil Peart. But he becomes even more enthusiastic when talking about his group, especially drummer Darien McLaughlin, who challenges him with rhythms outside his comfort zone. Dejesso excuses himself to see the last band, Veni Sun, play their brand of indie pop.
Only time will tell if I have seen a future star tonight, if Sotelo and the band survive the pitfalls of the industry and leave a lasting impact on music. But tonight, it warms my rock and roll heart to have seen an inspired and inspiring performance.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: Sitting through Dad Rock to get to Enrique Sotelo
Could Audio Perdisco be harboring a future guitar god?
Gonzo Report: Sitting through Dad Rock to get to Enrique Sotelo
Could Audio Perdisco be harboring a future guitar god?
Enrique Sotelo: a scorcher on the strings.
It’s a Wednesday at The Belly Up in Solana Beach, and I pass the time eavesdropping in line as a young woman named Abby discusses a helicopter that is flying at that very moment over her house, an event she has been informed of via a phone call about a fugitive. Abby and her companion Cliff — who is, coincidentally a helicopter pilot — are now characters in my adventure. They’re here because they love live music, but they seem completely unaware of the hype surrounding Audio Perdisco guitarist Enrique Sotelo, who is gaining a reputation as the hottest guitarist in San Diego — drawing comparisons to the Fallbrook Kid himself, Anthony Cullins.
Once inside, security guards are protecting the alcove where the restrooms are located. I suspect they’re guarding the restroom while Sotelo uses it. I’m a journalist, so it’s my job to investigate. But as I stride up to them, my confidence is shaken by the nearby sound of a glass shattering — I start to worry that I will be blamed. Then my sense of purpose deflates when security tells me they’re just blocking the entrance adjacent to the restaurant, and they’re not Sotelo’s personal bathroom bodyguards.
Guards aside, the Belly Up has a laid-back atmosphere, and a consistently pristine sound that makes it a great place to see a concert with fellow music lovers. (Even if some restaurant patrons like to sneak into the show room after dining.) The theme of the night is “Locals Only,” with four bands providing the soundtrack. The first two, Wave Parade and Born to Rise, are competent, but I’ve heard Soundgarden and Alice In Chains before, and the imitators don’t excite me. On my way out to my nicotine fix, I see Abby and Cliff, who give their succinct review of both bands as “dad rock” and wonder why Audio Perdisco has two drum sets.
The floor seems more packed after my smoke, but that may just be the energy and dancing that sweeps through the crowd. I look up Sotelo after a few songs to see which guitarist he is. He’s good, very good, but so is the rest of the band. Sotelo shines during the solos he takes, but it’s the group’s locked rhythm that makes my jaw drop. They operate as a solid unit, with everyone serving the song. Given that blues bands are by their very nature derivative, I marvel at the fresh sound they make. They remind me of early J. Geils, when they didn’t give a fuck about appealing to the masses. During a number called “Don’t Do That,” a patron climbs on the column by the stage and is told by security to get down. Then a woman does it, and I imagine the security singing “don’t do that” while telling her to get down as well. Each member takes a solo, including both drummers. Once unchained from the group, each one puts on an effective display of individual style.
As I head out to smoke again, I pass Abby and Cliff once more and hear, “That’s what they need two drummers for!” Outside, the band, including Sotelo, is hanging out, surrounded by both people they know and new fans congratulating them. I shake Sotelo’s hand and tell him I came to see him play for an article. He seems surprised and starts complimenting his bandmates, stating that he learns a lot from his riff partner, Garret Brubaker. Sotelo can’t keep the smile off his face when discussing the blues players that influenced him — deep cuts way beyond my knowledge. Then he tells me Brubaker loves metal.
When Brubaker joins us, we discuss our love of heavy music, and I encourage him to see Megadeth while he can. I soon lose the duo in the swarm of people approaching them, and watch as a drunk man engages drummer Nick Dejesso, asking for a hug, making fun of his ‘70s style shirt, and then yelling that nobody can tell him shit about drumming. It’s funny to me, but more impressive that Dejesso keeps his cool and deflects the liquid courage. Like his bandmates, he lights up when discussing his influences, such as Neil Peart. But he becomes even more enthusiastic when talking about his group, especially drummer Darien McLaughlin, who challenges him with rhythms outside his comfort zone. Dejesso excuses himself to see the last band, Veni Sun, play their brand of indie pop.
Only time will tell if I have seen a future star tonight, if Sotelo and the band survive the pitfalls of the industry and leave a lasting impact on music. But tonight, it warms my rock and roll heart to have seen an inspired and inspiring performance.
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