Localized – Filth Lords, ABK and Vena Cava

Vena Cava
Brandon Hobbs – Guitar/Vocals
Andrew Earley – Bass/Backup Vcals
Milo Hobbs – Drums/Yelling "BRAINS!"

Vena Cava (pronounced Vee-na Cave-uh) started as exercise to keep drummer Milo Hobbs alive. Upon fighting cancer and facing post-chemotherapy complications, Milo developed a blood clot in his superior vena cava, the large vein that carries deoxygenated blood into the heart from the head, arms and upper body. In order to help eliminate the clotting, he had to exercise that region of his body. “I had to keep my limbs active and a friend had a drum kit that wasn’t being used, so I asked him if I could borrow it, and I just started playing,” he says.

Milo asked his little brother, guitarist Brandon Hobbs, to come and jam with him in his garage about a year ago. Brandon recalls Milo calling him, briskly requesting him to come over and play some music so Milo could learn the drums. “Then we started writing songs and started working,” Brandon says. From there, the brothers entreated their coworker at Brewvies, Andrew Earley, to come play with them. The Hobbs brothers attribute Brewvies as the channel that initially connected the two with Earley. Even though Earley didn’t play bass at first, that didn’t stop the Hobbses from inculcating him into their project. “Andrew and I learned our instruments in this band. It went really easily. Just bam, bam, bam—all of a sudden, we just started kicking out songs. [We] didn’t even expect to,” says Milo. Although they did not intend to become a band initially, Vena Cava’s framework solidified into their eerie brand of avant-garde punk—all in just over a year.

Brandon lyrically implanted his love for horror films in what the band refers to as “monster civil rights.” Earley explicates their thematic approach as, “Normal stuff that other bands write songs about, just framed with horror ties,” he says. “[The] ‘monster civil rights’ thing is kind of a joke, but it’s true: lyrics about picketing for zombies and love songs about fucking monsters.” Excavating his lyrical influence, Brandon says, “I’m a horror-movie fanatic. So, it’s basically the easiest thing for me to write about, but I try to do it in a sense where, if you were listening to it, you wouldn’t really know.” Even though the band illustrates their topics in a macabre way, they didn’t necessarily intend to frame themselves so morbidly—when Burt’s show-booker Jeremy Sundeaus asked them what their name was for their first show last spring, they compulsively selected Vena Cava from a handful of other names they were playing with. Every show they play, however, indicates that their inner zombies had decreed that they act as synecdoches for Milo’s vein from the get-go, to act as undead bodies bent on carnivorous survival, thirsty for blood. Onstage, their countenances change from that of friendly Brewvies employees to livid-looking monsters: Brandon screams gutturally as he performs dissonant melodies on his guitar; Earley paces back and forth threateningly like a boss fight in a dark video game; Milo’s brow furrows as his arms stampede across his drums, solidly. Milo jokes, “That’s probably just the look of concentration.” Nonetheless, Vena Cava generate a true sense of performance as they enact the ambience of their songs.

Vena Cava have never had any intentional direction for their style. Earley says, “We still can’t define it. When people ask what we sound like, we just make jokes.” Though their songs sound quite involved—with alternating rhythms and time signatures, and melodious guitar and bass lines that dip into occasional atonality to push their songs forward—Milo jokingly chalks up their musical approach to “lack of talent … On my part, anyway.” He says, “I think everything had to be really simple for me, because it was all I could do, slowly adding stuff.” Talent or not, the band has cultivated a style that seems like a punk rock take on classical composition with a sense of movement and musical narrative, which still retains the sense of a minimalist rock song, devoid of the pretentiousness of a long-winded symphony. With Brandon’s raspy vocals, Vena Cava simulates a raw atmosphere that one could envision as the ’80s hardcore scene.

Vena Cava just recorded a four-song demo with Nika Bennett (Endless Struggle) manning the ad hoc studio in Milo’s garage, which actually sounds like it was recorded by Andy Patterson. To get the release, the band suggests that you simply ask them, and jokes for fans to “be patient” while they burn copies. “If they bring a CD-R with them, it’s much more likely [we’ll get it to them,]” Earley says, kidding. All joking aside, those who want the CD at Localized can get it there. “We’ll give them out for free,” says Brandon. “There’s no need selling them—we didn’t pay for it, so why sell it?” Vena Cava plan to record a full-length over the rest of winter—once again, in Milo’s garage by Bennett. The band has no solid tour plans yet, but have discussed a possible tour with Endless Struggle later in the year. Until then, you can probably catch them again at Burt’s with Stark Raving Mad, Two Bit or the Utah County Swillers—with T-shirts sometime soon. And all you youngsters out there, don’t fret: “We want to play all-ages shows really bad,” Earley says. Brandon agrees as he says, “Hopefully, after this Localized, we’ll be able to [play] Kilby.”

Come out to Urban Lounge on Friday, Jan. 13 to lose yourself in a bad-luck monster chomp-fest with Vena Cava and be slowly assuaged by the sultry rock n’ roll of ABK. Filth Lords will season your carcasses with a dash of dirty post-street punk. $5 at the door, baby.