The Peels Sessions

They're San Francisco's hottest garage band -- in Los Angeles, anyway. Will their hometown give them the respect they deserve?

"It knows!" the Peels' singer, Robyn Miller, says cryptically about her hotel room's electronic minibar as she removes a Hershey's bar from the top of the unit's infrared sensor. Bassist Josh Vieu has a solution to Miller's dilemma: Placing an empty Budweiser can where the candy used to be, he tricks the high-tech gadget into thinking nothing has changed. This ploy brings the members of the Peels immense pleasure, and they all burst into howls of laughter.

To say that the musicians are drunk is something of an understatement. On the 18th floor of Hollywood's swank Renaissance Hotel, the bandmates -- Miller and Vieu, plus Lane Rider (guitar) and Kenneth Small (drums) -- are drinking up a storm on Capitol Records' tab (the band just signed to the label). And why not? The Peels are rock stars. That they've only been playing together for about a year and have yet to release a record doesn't deter the L.A. press and several major record labels from frothing at the mouth for the group's poppy garage-rock revival shtick. The only catch is that the Peels aren't from L.A. They live in San Francisco, where hardly anyone has heard of them.

While the Peels have what it takes to grab the attention of A&R types, it's unclear whether they can win over an arguably tougher audience -- jaded S.F. music scenesters. The band only recently moved here, after receiving a somewhat frosty reception from Seattle critics, despite its healthy fan base, built up as it formed its sound. The Peels knew they could move to Los Angeles and prosper, but they split the difference between L.A. and Seattle and settled on this town ("We just love it here," says Vieu). What remains to be seen is whether San Francisco plans to give the Peels the warm L.A treatment or the chilly Seattle one.


Playing every Tuesday this month (April 6, 13, 20, and 27) with varying opening bands at 9 p.m.

All shows are $7



Thee Parkside, 1600 17th St. (at Wisconsin), S.F.

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One local pundit recently described them as the "Candlebox of garage rock." Harsh words, to be sure, but the Peels are easy targets. Miller's lyrics aren't exactly original, yet the band does have talent where it counts. Rider's guitar work alone could take this group anywhere it wants to go -- and live, the Peels simmer with energy. Though they seem to bring out the player-haters in droves, more than a few of those folks would come around if they'd just catch a show.

The Peels' performances have always been the source of their strength, and people nationwide are starting to notice. The band just signed on with the Agency Group (the same booking agency that handles the White Stripes, among many others), which hopes to have the Peels out supporting some big bands this summer in Europe. While a San Francisco groundswell of support for the group hasn't yet materialized, that shouldn't stop it from "making it." In fact, many local acts that seem to do well, especially in the overseas press, aren't particularly well known in their own town. From Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (which eventually had to move to L.A. to get signed) to Vue, S.F. produces plenty of bands that draw heavier crowds outside the bay than they do here. But what's most amazing is that the Peels even have the luxury of examining such issues. They almost didn't become a band at all.

Miller and Rider are clearly different types. Miller is brash and opinionated; Rider is soft-spoken and calculating. Still, Rider had played in several Seattle bands that Miller liked. They shared a similar musical taste and agreed to start a band -- even though they'd met on a failed blind date. "It was fucked up," Miller laughs. "I should have known the date was doomed, as we met in this restaurant where I once tripped over a guy who got stabbed. ... We basically hated each other. He was like, 'That girl is such a bitch!'"

While Rider certainly didn't fall in love with Miller that night, he did see in her a musical soulmate. The two started practicing together, and eventually Miller recruited Vieu to join them. They settled on the name "The Peels" at a friend's suggestion: They were all big fans of the Peel Sessions, groundbreaking radio broadcasts by John Peel of U.K. bands like Gang of Four. Small was recruited later, also by Miller (she dated him, too, and he's a well-known drummer in Seattle rock circles), and the lineup was set.

The band started out with modest ambitions -- playing parties and small venues and working its way up the local ladder. But things happened faster than the quartet could have imagined. Miller gave a demo of a few songs to a friend who managed the Crocodile bar in Seattle, and within a week the group was playing on some of the top bills in town. But the Peels weren't entirely happy with being so hyped, so quickly. A backlash ensued, and the bandmates felt they needed a change of scenery.

"We were dying to get out of Seattle," says Rider. He claims the band had always planned to leave for San Francisco. "Everybody was so supportive of us in Seattle -- when we were leaving," he deadpans.

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