February 7th, 2023

By Simon Plotkin

Photos and Art by Rhae Shulz-O’Neil

There is this strange, beautiful feeling that arises when you engage with something totally and utterly unique. Some examples: you see two bugs having sex on a leaf so battered by wind that you cannot fathom how the little rascals are able to continue their coitus without being swept away. Or, perhaps the frontwoman of a two piece experimental funk-pop-jazz fusion group steps onto a kaleidoscopic stage in a fairytale princess dress and matching cone and veil tiara. The first of these descriptions is loosely based around a lyric from the Rubblebucket song “Cherry Blossom”, and the second is a 100% real description of the fateful night of Rubblebucket at The Crocodile. Rubblebucket is an imposing musical force, composed of singer-songwriter-producer-saxophonist-flutist Kalmia Traver and singer-songwriter-producer-trumpeter Alex Toth. Their five piece concert band is a pantheon of musicality, boasting a talented, if reserved, drummer, a ripping and pensive bassist, and a spirited trumpeter from world famous funk group Durand Jones and the Indications. 

Media Director Rhae Schulz and I arrived at the venue a few hours before the show, and, after weathering the chaos of sound checks, were escorted by Kalmia through a maze of hallways for our interview. We ended our journey in a tangerine walled (poorly named) “green room” with mustard-yellow velvet couches. Kalmia found us some kombucha and we began our conversation. Alex ended up joining us for the last stint of the interview, which was lovely because he was able to offer insight into the “I’ve been coming a thousand years, you can call me the endless f*ck” line from the opening track of their most recent album; he originally wrote it as a (non-sexual) meditation in his journal before Kalmia offered a new (sexual) connotation for the line. We talked about environmentalism, music theory, relationships, having a good old time, and much, much more. 

The two of them met in the jazz program at University of Vermont, and played horns in a reggae band called John Brown’s Body following graduation. They were romantic partners for a long time, but after working through Kalmia’s ovarian cancer diagnosis and Alex’s struggle with maintaining sobriety all while producing music together, they decided that they would be better suited as friends and bandmates, prompting what they describe as a “conscious uncoupling.” It is to everyone’s benefit  that their musical partnership remained through these circumstances, as their band captures a particular energy that can’t be found anywhere else. Though both Kalmia and Alex are in their mid thirties, they both have a sense of timelessness and playfulness that can only be attained by paying diligent attention to the health and wellness of your inner child. Kalmia has the word ‘PLAY’ tattooed across her knuckles, done in honor of past bandmates who had the same tattoo on their arms to remind them what they were supposed to do with their instruments. After the interview, we walked back out to the main venue and awaited the beginning of the first act.

The name of the opening band was “Spaceface”, a small Memphis based funk-pop quartet, two members of which were previously in “The Flaming Lips.” Their grooves were sick, but their sound and presence felt a little underdeveloped. I don’t mean to slam them, they’re a young group with a great deal of potential. One aspect of their set that stood out to me was the tasteful and intensive use of effects during their set; in the modern day it’s nice to see performers taking advantage of the broad spectrum of technology available to them. The stage behind them displayed a rotating collection of strange graphics, the lighting changed in color and pattern for each song, and the fog machine was working overtime. Fun tidbit: I almost opened the door into the face of their lead singer after taking an exclusive piss in the backstage bathrooms. 

The main performance was incredible, just as expected. Every member of the band changed costumes multiple times, and every song had its own choreography. The dances were all cartoonishly simple: they ranged from jumping around from left to right to spinning in a circle while doing funny little squats. In any other show I might have been underwhelmed, but each move contributed to the odd, dreamlike setting of the concert. Kalmia and Alex both rocked out multiple ear-warming, toe curling solos on baritone saxophone and trumpet respectively. Hearing Kalmia rip on the baritone during “If U C My Enemies” is an experience I will not soon forget: a certifiably stinky riff honked out by a princess underneath blood red lights with thick fog rolling around her feet. At one point Kalmia even brought out a flute and let out a solo that could only have been composed by a small species of fairy-like creatures that use domesticated hummingbirds as their primary form of transportation. 

Epic trumpet from Rubblebucket’s Set

Most of their set was pulled from their most recent two albums, Earth Worship and Sun Machine, though they pulled a few classics out of the vault as well-most notably their smash hit “Came Out of a Lady” which elicited as close to a mosh as this show was going to get. Near the end of the show Alex impromptu mounted the shoulders of an audience member and rode around the venue blasting and bitching out of his glittering golden horn. There was even an encore, where the band left the bass player to fiddle (and dear god, did he fiddle) around until he was joined by each member of the band in succession crawling onto the stage and joining his beautiful and chaotic improvisational supernova. 

The entire show felt like I had taken a wrong turn on my way to the Alice in Wonderland hookah caterpillar and arrived at a party for elves. The music as well as the performance style was playful and exciting and kind. It was particularly surreal to witness given that Rhae and I had just enjoyed a full conversation with the two performers backstage; we got the privilege of witnessing their normal selves shed in favor of their performer personas. If you ever get a chance to see Rubblebucket perform live, I would highly recommend it. Kalmia and Alex have the tempered skill of experienced performers combined with enough whimsy and mayhem to keep the audience on their toes. The Crocodile is a fantastic venue; throughout the dreamlike musical communion that was the Rubblebucket show, the giant crocodile skeleton hovered above us with a stoic wisdom—as we writhed around in the noisy dark, he smiled.

Original Painting of Kalmia Traver at the Crocodile by Rhae Shulz-O’Neil