The influence of mortality
Serendipitous: Last September, Scott Ferreter said goodbye to Sacramento and any obligations that would distract him from his music. He quit his job and vacated his house, eventually settling into a nomadic lifestyle in the Bay Area. In between, he spent the winter at his mom’s place, meditating. Why was his album taking so long to finish? How did he fall so behind? What was holding him back?
In July, Ferreter, known around town as the frontman for the now-retired indie band Cove, finally finished the record that’s been four years in the making. The goal was to honor his dead father, dive into loss and document his own grieving process.
“It turned out making the record was actually the thing driving my healing,” Ferreter says. “The reason the music hadn’t happened yet was because the healing hadn’t happened yet.”
In the studio, he broke down, sobbed and cracked open in new ways. But he also gave into spontaneity, adding vocals to a song that for years had been an instrumental, just because it felt right in the moment.
“Serendipity has totally been on my side,” he says.
The result is easily the biggest creative undertaking of Ferreter’s life: a 46-minute opus meant to be listened to start-to-finish, featuring 22 guest musicians and tons of tiny, recorded sounds with enormous significance. See You in the Morning Light doesn’t have a release date yet, but he plans to host the Sacramento release show at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, a site of various recording sessions. Instead of using his given name, he’ll release the album under the moniker deep pools, a name that slowly revealed itself through meditation—and serendipity, a major driving force for Ferreter’s music and life lately.
Last week, he kicked off his most ambitious tour yet: a 55-stop journey from coast to coast, hitting houses, backyards and other intimate settings in nearly 40 states with fellow Bay Area-based artist Morgan Bolender. For Ferreter, the Sacramento show was a homecoming: a living room full of family and friends. And yodels and bird calls.
He played Cove songs and a couple of tracks off the upcoming record—all familiar to local fans. But with Bolender providing beautiful harmonies and Ferreter’s soaring energy, the songs felt more alive. During his darkest number, he transformed into a sweaty wreck: twisted, lost and positively captivating. Tears dotted at least one attendee’s face as everyone reflected on their own losses and, hopefully, catharses.
Dirty priest: If extreme metal with a little bit of melody and rock swagger is your thing, Cura Cochino serves to both ridicule and tease the aural senses.
Metalheads in the downtown Sacramento scene already know the group’s guitarist and backup screamer Kenny Hoffman from hosting countless shows under Buried In Hell. There’s also the lead vocalist who simply goes by “Priscila in Hell,” guitarist Jim Willig, drummer Andy Laughlin and bassist Biaggio D’Anna, who also plays in Modern Man.
And while playing the upstairs of the Starlite Lounge during peak summer temperatures on a Thursday night may have seemed like a bad idea in hindsight, Cura Cochino’s onstage vibe couldn’t have been better. Wearing a black dress and high, risque boots, Priscila often stood with her back to the audience while concurrently screaming and antagonizing the crowd. Though it opened for two very accomplished acts, Atriarch and Sabbath Assembly, Cura Cochino never toned it down to appease the squeamish—or those without earplugs.
The macabre quintet just released a great three-song album, La Diseccion, which loosely sounds like a haunted Spanish-speaking woman fronting a doom metal choir for the eternally damned.
After a lengthy absence to regroup and tighten up some loose strings, La Diseccion proves yet again Cura Cochino is one of Sacramento’s heavier musical treasures. As evidenced on studio-recorded versions of “El Apocalipsis” and “Funebre Amor,” death’s recurring theme is all in good fun and even more in bad taste.