Showtime With Tula Vera — Look at my records!

Words by Bennett Kelly

On a freezing cold Saturday night in February 2022, on the fifth floor of an old garment warehouse backed by the Passaic River in Paterson, New Jersey, indie rockers Tula Vera unveil to an intrepid audience of thirty a handful of new tunes amidst an hour-long set. The band let Look At My Records! reporter Bennett Kelly shadow them for the evening, from arrival to departure.

Tula Vera is a New Jersey rock band that’s hit a stride, from their creative process, to the proliferation of gigs, and in performance itself. Founded over seven years ago in the throes of high school, their roisterous stage act has drawn praise for its maturation and confidence at recent shows from fellow musicians, from people who’ve seen them through the years. That’s attributable in part to the band just growing up, said guitarist and vocalist Claire Parcells in a phone interview the day before the Paterson gig.

Tula Vera - guitarist/vocalist Dylan Drummond, bassist Joe Jansen, drummer Margaret Marino, and guitarist/vocalist Claire Parcells

The other part to that growth is practice and seeing what works live. “I definitely think in the past year we’ve kind of come into something that works,” Parcells said. “Not that it didn't work before. But that's nice to hear, sidenote,” they said with a laugh.

The band released full-length albums in 2017 and 2020, and now plans a bombardment of new releases in 2022, with plenty of shows to promote them. All four bandmates are on the same page, whether it's sifting out what songs make it from the workshop into the live repertoire, to mapping out the band’s next big phase.

“Right now we're really excited about this new music we’re working on,” said Parcells. They are playing or debuting four to five unreleased tracks at Saturday’s gig in Paterson.

Parcells and fellow guitarist/vocalist Dylan Drummond are the primary songwriters in a collaborative unit, though there’s nothing that makes it into the show that all four members aren’t feeling together. Drummer Margaret Marino works “meticulously hard at really coming up with great drum parts to everything,” and bassist Joe Jansen adds his own flare to things, bringing everything to life, Parcells said. Jansen often sings along on stage to himself, off mic, clearly enjoying the moment.

“We try to overall play things that are gonna be fun for us. Something I think about often is that live music is so important,” Parcells said. The “Spooky Blues” quartet from Montclair, NJ cut their teeth on the DIY circuits in places like New Brunswick, NJ and beyond, venues home to engaged and tightly-packed audiences. A multi-city tour in January that was to span as far as Texas was cut short by Covid after one gig, but Tula Vera’s modus has been to play a show every weekend of the year.

“I like to give something to people to watch,” Parcells continued. “You're there to see a show as well as listen to it. So I keep that in mind. I like to have fun with it.” It’s clear that they all do, with each other and for the audience.

They’re performing a lot in 2022. They’re looking at labels and for funding to make their ideas happen even better, for some backing for their next full length album, and for the right team of people to make it all happen. “I feel very lucky that we all want that and that we’re all on the same page in working towards that,” Parcells said. That they all love playing together and have fun doing so makes it all the more exciting and cool to go through, they said. They’re excited to be where they are, and are looking at their options in a fun way.

“I think the stage that we're at is when you're at an arcade and you're gathering up all your tokens or your tickets,” Drummond said in the same phone call as Parcells, who laughed in agreement. “We’re gonna cash 'em in soon but we're still gathering,” he continued. “We still want to play one more round of pinball.”

Tula Vera ultimately identifies as a rock band; Parcells conjured the “Spooky Blues” moniker somewhat in jest. “Honestly a piece of it was kind of poking fun a little bit,” Parcells said, about the lamentable notion of bands having to box themselves into any genre.

“A lot of our music has a blues influence, and I kind of just wanted something that sounded different and kind of new,” Parcells said. “And would maybe make someone feel like ‘I don't know what that sounds like,’ and go listen to what it is.”

It’s not just another of their poetically crafted phrases however. It is a keen and enigmatic elucidation of the band’s aesthetic and sound, the latter part being foremost. “Blues is an amazing genre because it crosses so many barriers,” Drummond said on the call.

He refers to two early kings of electric blues, Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf, and to Sister Rosetta Tharp, then Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin and the Beatles, then to the rhythm and blues of Al Green, Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin. “And so I think, as opposed to some modern rock bands that are maybe more based off of, I don't know, the Strokes or more 90s alt-rock kind of groups,” Drummond said, “Our music is more centered around blues-based music. Which tends to lend itself to more 60s and 70s artists. And so that's probably why we fit better in that mold, just kind of coming from that place, that blues source if you will.”

“But at the same time I don't think that we’re a blues band though,” Parcells added.

“No, we're definitely not. Just in the same way that the Beatles are definitely not a blues band,” Drummond said. “But we use that form and all those tricks to help with songwriting and with performance in general.”

Saturday’s venue, inside a six-story former garment warehouse in Paterson, NJ called Prototype 237, both defies and alludes to rock and roll convention. It’s a live-work-performance space-listening room, a place for artists to present to one another and to cultivate community by valuing each other’s art, says creative director and resident and intellectual property attorney Alex Pergament.

While it’s a unique music venue in the present, it also has a secure place in D-I-Y tradition, harkening back to the “performance installment” wave of the Velvet Underground at Andy Warhol’s Factory in the 1960s. Prototype 237 itself is second generation to the former Studio 660 in Jersey City, which closed in 2018.

A core of that group reincarnated its spirit here in Paterson and christened Prototype 237 in September 2020. Since then Pergament and the other residents, including curator John Fathom, communications director Eric Saltzman, Jersey City poet laureate Rashad Wright, an Egyptian fire dancer, a videographer and an Emcee among others, built all of its rooms and walls and dividers and stage.

They’ve been hosting shows for about a year, up to a pace now of about six a month, mostly rock and hip hop, as well as weekly performance improv, art and comedy shows. They’re booked through with bands until early April at the moment, Pergament says.

Its performance space is equipped with a stage, a five-inch riser covered in artificial green turf, and a full PA system, complete with 500-watt Behringer speakers suspended from the ceiling. Barking down at the bandstand is a colorful backdrop featuring a sabertooth dragon with sunflower scales and eyes of rose, and sun rays emanating from behind in all directions. Art installations hang from the ceilings and cover the walls; glass sculptures, stage light fixtures, a mosaic of mannequin hands, a punching bag. One of the rooms is a carpentry workshop. Another is a recording studio, a separate one has a bench press and key lockers. There’s a series of bedrooms and lounge areas.

Apart from the art itself, there’s an emphasis on the ethic of the place, Pergament says. A posted mission statement reads in part: “The sage doesn’t hoard. She increases her treasure by working for her fellow human beings. She increases her abundance by giving herself to them.”

The setting for that abundance tonight is Paterson, a city of 160,000 that’s fallen some from its industrial “Silk City” heyday. This former garment warehouse that stands stoically tall on the banks of the urban Passaic River is alone in its immediate vicinity save for an empty dog park. It’s a spooky setting on a 20-degree night; a spookiness that can only be remedied by the self-ascribed purveyors of “Spooky Blues,” Tula Vera.

At 7:00 p.m. sharp Pergament is trailing Drummond and Marino back out to their car, parked in a wide strip to the right of the building. That duo arrived in one car together. Parcells arrives in their own car, parking alongside Drummond and Marino as they begin fetching their gear. Jansen is running 20 minutes behind.

Pergament and the three musicians carry amps and guitars and drum stands to the other side of the building, up a skinny set of cinder block-cement stairs to a service elevator. Pergament, now elevator operator, clamps its suicide doors shut and up it goes, to the fifth of six floors. The elevator has murals painted on its three interior walls. The doors open to a hallway and a kitchen, and the host warns of a friendly dog named Tuck. The band drops most of their gear in the kitchen behind the stage.

Parcells showed up hungry and starts in on their dinner at the kitchen table. Marino and Drummond walk through curtains to the performance area and gather their bearings. There’s much to take in, in this kind of carnival of sound and light and art, but the first glance assures the place is set up for rock. The PA system is helmed by Pergament near the back. Behind it are more art installations and a bar, where Rashad Wright is tending from a cooler. In the performance room are couches and chalkboards along the walls marked with agendas, mantras and future events.

Marino is the first to step on stage, setting up her cymbals to finish the house drum kit. She confers there with Tom Barrett, a Mint 400 Records artist and the head of the rock trio opening act, Tom Barrett and the Cuts. Barrett and Tula Vera met two nights ago, on Thursday the 17th at a Tula Vera gig at Pet Shop bar in Jersey City that Barrett attended. They leave Barrett to his set up and soundcheck, and he’s on stage and on time at 8:00, opening with a Prince song, “I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man.”

Prince proves an auspicious start to the evening for Drummond. “Dylan’s in love with that man,” Parcells says. Prince’s sartorial influence on Drummond is apparent; he sports a purple dress shirt with collar flared out over a thin black jacket.

Parcells and Drummond observe Barrett’s set from the back of the room, behind the PA system. The warehouse’s open floor is divided down the middle by a red curtain, with the performance area on the right half and with open space, lounges and other rooms on the left.

Marino is sitting in a rolling chair next to the PA. Jansen is exploring, coming and going. He’s waiting on a few of his friends to arrive. In a quiet moment he’s found fixing his tie in the kitchen behind the stage. Parcells has a friend coming also, and like Jansen is on the move for much of the opening hour. Midway through it Parcells has an arm-wrestling match with friend Isa at a small table on the left side of the room, and takes some pictures there amidst the backdrops. Drummond and Marino remain mostly in place, talking sound and vision. Jansen entertains his friends along this back wall. Wright brings a set of chairs onto the concert floor.

Barrett works through his set. He’s on guitar and vocals and stands to the left side of the stage. There’s trouble with the set list, a running gag that he jokes to the audience about. He is a tall figure in a trucker hat and short beard, t-shirt and open sweater and blue jeans. It’s all originals after Prince save for the penultimate song, Wilco’s “Box Full of Letters.” Tuck the dog joins them on stage with a bone.

“Thanks a lot that’s it we’re done,” Barrett says abruptly at 8:53, with an exhale-laugh. “Tula Vera are up next thank you so much for watching, have a good night.” Wright is a vocal audience member, clapping and hollering “woo’s” and “aa-ieee’s!”

Barrett and the two Cuts break down their gear. Tula Vera buys a round of showtime drinks from the bar. They move to the stage at 9:00, with Parcells setting up their pedals and Marino her cymbals. Barrett packs his pedals into a Paisley Park tote bag, another Princely omen observed by Drummond. He and Barrett talk shop for a minute. Pergament sets up a second mic stand front and center for Parcells to use.

Off stage Barrett says it was a good sounding room. He recalled being in the former 660 Studios space in Jersey City, not realizing this was a continuation of that until he poked around it this evening. He laments in a joking way how he couldn’t get his setlist straight tonight, adding and removing songs throughout, and troubling his drummer who was already burdened with a sinus infection. The Cuts are also in a good groove right now, working on a record and playing shows through the spring. They’re playing in a couple upcoming Mint 400 showcases, Thursday 2/24 back at Pet Shop in Jersey City and Saturday 3/5 at Pino’s in Highland Park, NJ. Barrett finds space on one of the side couches for the second act.

Tula Vera is getting closer with their guitar and mic check. Drummond sports a black Fender Stratocaster with silver knobs and no pickguard, Parcells a lilac-white Fender Stratocaster with a pearl pickguard, and Jansen plays the instrumental embodiment of himself, a Stingray Music Man bass.

“Yo!” Drummond says into the mic. It comes in too loud. “Whoa, sorry about that.”

Pergament asks Marino to check the drum mic too. “Let me know if you need more in the monitors of anything,” he says.

“K cool,” Parcells says. “Probably just blast the vocals.”

“Can you bring the bass down in the monitors?” Jansen asks. He does.

They’re still making frittering tuneup noises when suddenly Marino slaps in. The band starts up, and Drummond howls. Marino builds the beat louder and louder, the distorted guitars and bass adding torque. The opening number is designed to rip. Drummond steps to the mic and it begins.

“You're the first thinnng…” Drummond sings. He’s on the left of the stage, to Parcells’ right, and Jansen on Parcells’ left.

“That I think about… in the morning… When I wake uu-uu-uupp…

“Everyday now… is a bles-sing!... because I see a smiile… that you can’t hii-iii-ide…”

They reach the chorus, and the band plays louder still, goes into gang vocals, with Parcells and Marino accompanying Drummond on the “on-ly’s” and its variations.

“I said…”

“On-ly! You are my onn-ly! Can’t you see I’m lone-ly, deep insiiiide??

“On-ly! Won’t you be me onn-ly? I want you to hold me, you’ve got to decide! Oh, decide…”

The song breaks away. Jansen enters ferocious headbanging mode. Parcells is doing their trademark dance, hopping lightly from foot to foot. Drummond is cool, stepping back from the mic and playing off his back foot. Marino is mean-mugging on drums, beating them with disdain.

They retreat from the noise bomb to the quieter second verse.

“You’re the last thing… that I think about…” Drummond sings. “In the eee-venin’, when I close my eyyyes…

“When I’m dree-amin’, I know that that ain’t youu… even thouuugh, you got a good disguiiiise… Yeah!

“On-ly! You are my onn-ly…” the gang comes crashing back in.

It's a favored opener tune for Tula Vera, to come roaring in from an ostensible sound check. It’s their non-verbal introduction; they let the music talk first.

“We like starting with that song,” Drummond said on Friday of “The First Thing,” the second track off their 2020 album Again and Again... “It has a buildup in the very beginning, which gets people's ears attenuated to the volume, and gets people thinking in their head to see what's gonna happen. We all sing on it, which I like. It's up-pace, it's all those things, so I like starting with that one.”

“There's something kind of cool with having a set start off with having the music kind of speak for itself first,” Parcells said on Friday. “It gives people a chance to come in from being outside cause they're hearing the music starting and everything. It's just kind of fun to go straight into it.”

It’s an unrelenting three-and-a-half-minute whirlwind that ends in escalation and a series of “Bye-bye’s!” from Drummond and an authoritative stomp from Marino.

“Thank you. Can I get a little more guitar in the monitor?” Parcells asks politely over the applause. It’s an intimate audience, a participatory one but spread across the room, about thirty souls altogether. “Thank you. Yeah we’re Tula Vera,” Parcells says. “We’re very excited to be here. This space is so fucking cool. It’s our first time here and, yeah it's such a cool space, like what a lovely… thing you did. So much cool art… lovely people. I’m just filled with gratitude tonight y’all.” There are some woo’s in the audience as Marino drums into the next track, a slower number per her introduction.

“This next song is called ‘Gone With The Leaves,’” Parcells says. Drummond says something off mic. “Oh is it not? Oh fuck, it’s not actually called ‘Gone With The Leaves.’ It’s called something else.”

“How are the guitar and monitors?” Pergament asks. Parcells plays something and says that's better, but then ditches their guitar, laying it face down on the stage turf, to sing a slower soulful number. Parcells removes the mic from the stand and keeps it in hand, starting in on “Human Progress,” from their 2017 self-titled debut album.

Going guitar-less harkens back to Tula Vera’s early days, when Parcells was solely a vocalist and the only one, before Drummond began to sing lead also.

Having them both sing and play guitar “was always a thing that we were gonna aspire to do,” Drummond said the day before. “It just hadn’t entered the group yet.” They mostly needed to get their collective chops up to performance standards first. Now it’s another item in their toolkit, one that diversifies their set with Drummond and Parcells having different vocal styles, Parcells added.

Halfway through the song or technically at the ending of “Human Progress,” Drummond lets his last note linger and Parcells reaches for the Fender, pulls it overhead as the band cuts right into the uptempo “Time.”

“Walk in-to a rooom… people turn arouund…” Parcells sings. “Like I’iiiive.. done something wro-oong…

“Been here two minutes… already singing a different song…” they sing. “I’ve got time.. I’ve got time.. I’ve got time on myy miiind…

“That's the first time we’ve really melted, mushed those two songs together,” Parcells says to the audience after. “It’s off of our first album, self-titled, Tu-Luh-Ver-Uhh. That song’s called ‘Human Progress’ and ‘Time.’

“And it's very kind of surreal I think,” Parcells continues, “Playing those songs now. Music is so cool, cause you know if you make a painting you usually just paint it once. Songs you get to play over and over again, and they can mean different things…”

The room in contemplation goes silent for a solid four seconds. Parcells retreats. “Everyone’s just like ‘Ok…’” Now people laugh and begin to hoot and holler. “If you guys want to move up, I would love that. If you don't, that's fine too. But also, you could.”

Parcells turns to the band, asking off mic, “What's the next song?” Drummond answers, and Parcells and Drummond go back and forth.

“Let's fight about it,” Parcells jokes, and they laughs.

“Noww this song’s called ‘Gone With The Leaves,’ and it was a single off our our last record,” Parcells says theatrically.

It’s a Parcells ballad, and the band’s second most streamed song on Spotify, with a cool 41k since April 2020, and one that shows off her vocal chops and range. Parcells sings eight of Tula Vera’s thirteen songs tonight to Drummond’s five. “Thank you thank you,” Parcells says afterward. “We’re still Tula Vera and still have more songs for you.”

“You better!” Wright shouts.

Up next comes the first of the unreleased tracks, four of which have their live debuts tonight. Up first is one that was played for the first time two nights before, a rocker titled “Astroplane,” the only flaw in it is that it’s two short, clocking in at 2:22. But maybe that’s the point, a la Jimi Hendrix’s “Little Wing,” similarly sweet at 2:26. Parcells sings it.

“Gonna rise up abo-ove!… I'll be so tah-a-alll…

“This body aint even mine…It’s not even worth my time at all!! ” Parcells has guitar in hand but doesn’t play it during the verses. Meanwhile Drummond has to fix his pedals and isn’t playing either, leaving just Jansen and Marino to slam it through, until both guitars chime back in for the final chorus.

“Can we give it up for our rhythm section?” Parcells says afterwards. “Margaret and Joe fuck it up yo, we’re so lucky.” Parcells step back.

“Your shit’s working?” they ask Drummond off mic, returning to sing “Tehh-chnical difficul-ties” in the “Astroplane” melody. “Oh that song’s new, that song’s called ‘Astroplane.’ And it is not recorded and you guys are special because you got to hear it, heheh. What are we doing next?” they ask Drummond.

“I’m just changing guitars,” he says, in the process of switching from the Fender to his Gretsch Duo Jet Solid Body, Cadillac Green.

“Oh sick,” Parcells says, and takes the moment to pitch merchandise out of a suitcase in the back of the room. There’s a tip jar beside the suitcase with a couple bucks in it. Free stickers. They have CDs too. “You can stream it for free, or you could buy the record. We also have t-shirts…”

Drummond is ready to roll again, now with the Gretsch.

“Howw did it feel…” Parcells begins to sing softly and slowly in a new tune, but the intro belies another riff-heavy rocker. Jansen re-enters head banging mode and moves close to Marino’s drum kit. “Win-ter… fi-rree…” This song slows down, roars back again to the main beat and to heavy riffing. Perhaps some elements of Rage Against the Machine scatter throughout, yet they pull back from going all the way. It seems to give way to another song, another medley. But they return to the opening bit again, and Drummond later clarifies it was merely an interlude in the middle. It checks in at 4:40, another song to anticipate coming out this year.

“That one’s called ‘Caving In,’” Parcells says to the audience. “It’s about not taking people’s shit. Don’t take people’s shit.”

“Hell yeah!” says Wright, peeking in from the curtain to the left of the stage.

We got lots of new ones for you guys tonight” Parcells says.

“Woo wo wo woo!” says an audience member

“Yeah yeah!” says Wright. “New shit!”

“New shit,” Parcells answers.

“Haha,” says Wright.

Up next is another key change, into Motown influences, with Drummond singing lead and Parcells and Marino singing harmony.

“Babyyy, you send me, place I.. I‘ve never seen… Ree-al-ity. Re-all-i-tyyy oh no, no no no, no now…” with Parcells and Marino’s sending in falsetto “Baby’s” and other accentuators. At the two minute mark this one also breaks uptempo. “Caught you, living inside of your, fan-tasy…” Drummond sings one of the lines with an affected macho voice. Sometimes he and Parcells mute their strings and give Jansen a little lead runway, en route to a funky, “Fan, ta, see-ee… ree-al, uh, tee…” outro and vocal riffing. A “Reality/Fantasy” two-parter/medley, that peels from Motown to funk. They’re halfway home, thirty minutes in at 9:45. They keep it moving.

“This next song is called ‘Mother Nature” Parcells says in a British accent.

“Oh Witches, Witches,” Jansen and Drummond say.

“This next song is not called that actually,” Parcells moderates in British, before switching back to native tongue. “We had a set list and we thought it all through and then none of us wrote it down and it kind of defeats the purpose of making a set list, but, um...”

“Set lists are overrated,” Tom Barrett shouts from the back.

“Yea exactly, you get it.” Barrett laughs.

“Moral of the story,” he says quieter to his companions.

Parcells and Drummond previewed “Witch’s Back Door” the day before, with Drummond teasing, “Hey, that one’s kind of a spooky blues song!”

“Yeah that'll fit that category very well,” Parcells laughed. “Probably the best out of any of our songs.”

Marino counts slowly on her hi-hat. A witchy beat plays. It’s a plucky five note - four note guitar verse. Dum-da, dehh dom-dahh, before a pause and Dum-da, deh-dom, Marino tapping the edges of a drum with her sticks.

“She said it could sawn-rii, each and my’s dunk fiiist…” The lyrics are hard to pick up on this number, buried as they are in a witchy swamp of sound. They were right about it being the embodiment of spooky blues. It plays like a spell, Parcells laying down an incantation.

“Nature’s prou-ven, you’re on her hit li-iistt…

“One touch of her finger.. You'll wish you were d!ead…” Drummond takes a couple quick and halting solos throughout, Parcells howls over the bridge, Wright complements these with a few “wooo..-oo!’s” from the back. It’s swampy in all the right ways, gliding above the muck. The opening deh-dom-da beat is sustained throughout by Jansen and hushed or complemented by the guitars depending on mood. Drummond unloads a full solo, this time for several measures. A verse comes back, and Parcells dangles an emphatic “You'll wish you were dead!” over the last note to much applause and howls.

“We've never played that one live,” Parcells says.

“First time, thank you!” Drummond says.

“And that’s an especially original take, because the second verse I forgot lyrics so I kinda was just like rocking it. I was like… this witch is gonna take your shit,” Parcells says.

“I guess this is my own version now. Maybe that’s gonna be a new thing, I'll just come up with new verses before different shows.” The band confers at mid-stage over the next song.

“Let’s do, do you wanna do Sunspot?” Parcells asks them.

A yearning crawls through the room. The audience wants it and lets them know. The band decides to give it a go.

“This is for you,” Parcells says to an audience member.

“It’s my favorite!” says Wright.

The band mills about, Drummond taking a moment to get it ready. “Sunspot” is their most beloved and called-for song by fans. It’s not been banished from the live set, but it’s not been a priority either.

“So Dylan’s pedal for that,” Parcells said on Friday, “He never brings to shows. And I think it's because he doesn't want to play it,” they both laugh.

“But also I understand it,” Parcells continued. “Because it's our oldest song, and we’ve been a group for almost seven years. We probably will bring it back and play it again, and I know people do dig that tune, so it's not like it's gone forever. But we don't really want to play it without having the intro because that's like a cool part of the song.”

“In a perfect world I would have a board that would have everything I would ever need for my guitar and then we could just do any song,” Drummond said. “But there are songs like that where it's gear-dependent. And sometimes that makes it kind of difficult because you have to have that gear all the time.”

Drummond tests a few notes on the Gretsch. “Alright!” he says aloud.

“I’m gonna take my time with this,” he says to the band off-mic.

Drummond doesn’t have the pedal tonight, but he’s able to mimic the song’s sliding introduction effect with a little whammy bar action. He lingers on a few of the notes, teasing the audience, making them wait a little longer for the payoff. The intro fades under Parcells’ rhythm guitar, and Marino drums it into gear for the first verse.

“Si-tting, in the graass…” Parcells begins to sing. “Watching the leaves blow o-ver…

“Sink inn-to the crowwd… Sorr-y I, move slo-wer…”

It’s a song that showcases Parcells’ sly lyrics and vocalizing as well as Drummond’s guitar. The introduction is as alluring tonight sans-pedal as the studio version, one that’s been burned into brains over 77k times on Spotify, and he strikes all the familiar verse and chorus fills in tandem with Parcells’ vocals, who’s striking the rhythm chords on their Fender.

“Chan-ging and re-a-rranging.. Thoughts out the door because… you’ve changed, not for the better…” Parcells sings.

“I guess there’s nothing, I can dooooo… but lee-eet herrrrrrrrrrrrr… because… life line… Of fallen, of fallen, stoooones…

“My sunspot, is next to, is next to, youuuu…

“Do dumb things, to make

“To make peeople liiiike you!

“To make, to maake people liiike you-hoo…

“Thanks,” Parcells says modestly, over a warm ovation. “That song’s called ‘Sunspot.’”

“Love that tune,” says someone. It's one of the loudest ovations, some in the audience knowing it's been a rare occasion. Wright woo’s his approval again.

The band tunes, and Drummond steps to the mic shortly after.

“I have a lot of family in Vancouver, Canada,” he says. “And uh, last time I was there was during all the forest fires. And there was a lot of smoke in the air.” Someone goes “woo” and catches Drummond off guard. “Yea woo?” he jokes. “And uh, you used to be able to just stop on the side of the road and it was kind of like a picture-perfect spot of scenery. It would be like the mountains and the sea and the forest, all in just one snapshot. And last time I was there because of all the smoke it was all hazed over. It was very blurry. And so I wrote this song about that.”

It’s the last of the new songs tonight, the fifth, and it’s called “Mother Nature’s Sati.” It’s also the longest, a two-parter that plays like “Layla” by the Derek & the Dominos in reverse; “Mother Nature’s Sati” starts poignant and soft, a Drummond fingerpicker, before ending in a gut-busting instrumental jam.

“If you look from far away you can’t see it anymore…” Drummond sings.

“Your lips can taste in the air…

“Try to fight them all you want…

“It's gonna grow, it's always gonna grow…

Jansen sings along off mic as he often does, feeling the songs just the same.
“It may be forever more… it may beeee forever more….” And then the mantra, “Ohhhhh Saaa-tiii, oh sati,” Drummond singing the first alone with Marino and Parcells harmonizing with him on the latter.

“You know we have our faults, we love each other still…”

The mantra returns. Sati is a historical Hindu practice where a widow sacrificed herself atop the funeral pyre of her husband. A sati by Mother Nature herself… that spells trouble. Drummond sings and plays soulfully in both parts of the song, the poignant fingerpicking for 4:50 and the heavy jam lasting 2:10. He takes a long solo in the latter with Jansen and Marino powering the space for him to let it all out.

“Thanks,” he says, after the seven-minute track. It’s past 10:00 now. Pergament appears at the stage left curtain, flashing a peace sign indicating two to go.

“We got two more songs for ya,” Parcells says now in a Brooklyn accent. “Thank you so much fah havin’ us,” and drops the accent. “What a lovely space, I'm kinda obsessed with it.”

“This next song’s called ‘Blue Skies,’” Drummond says. (“Yessss,” someone hisses.)

“That is indeed what it is called,” Parcells says in Brooklynese.

They have a little tune up. As in “Sunspot” there is a little bit of teasing going on with “Blue Skies,” Drummond slow-playing the intro. And then a Marino slap calls Drummond in: “Don’t! You remember my name, I'm your best friend?...” he sings, playing the first of several joyful blue sky guitar riffs after each line.

“There I go, talking to, myself a-gain…

“Ohh don’t worry honey, its all in ya head…

“But what do you tell, a man, whooo, might as welll be dead?”

The rhythm section Marino and Jansen move to a country-western beat for the chorus.

“Ya tell him bluuuue skiiiies are coming,” wrapping around that walking beat. “Bluuuue skies are near…”

It builds and builds, another in the Tula Vera bag of orgasmic songs that all seem to pay off. They’re having fun with it, and Drummond takes on affected voices too. “I know yall got some good voices out there,” he says, calling for singers.

“Bluuuu skies are comin’… Yeah, here Joe’s gonna show you how to do it,” Drummond says.

Jansen steps to Parcells’ mic, and goofs on one of the “Bluuuuuue skiies are commin’s.” It gets the hearty woo’s out.

“That’s called souuul,” Drummond says. Then he begins to scream. “SO DAHLIN DON'T YA FEE-YUH!

“So darlinnnn… you don't know me well… YOU DON'T KNOW MAY!” He hollers over Marino’s and Jansen’s walking blues. He loses his mind… He plays the post-choral descending guitar lick into that uptempo fadeaway except it doesn’t fade, it hollers. The audience reciprocates, until the final soft fade comes in. It wraps with a false ending on guitar, and Marino slaps it home.

“Thank you very much we got one more song for ya,” Drummond says quickly. They tune again. Parcells hits the opening riff on “Truck Driver,” an ode to the road. It’s a desolate tune, spooky even, full of subversion and acceleration.

“Hand out the window, sun on one siiide…” Parcells sings. “Faamily at home - juuuuuust gott-aaa driiiiivee….

“Truuuuck dri-ver, truuuuck driii-ii-verrrr…” they bellow. It’s another tune that builds and builds, and ends in chaos on stage. The band likes it that way. The chorus knocks a small stone chessboard and its hand-carved pieces (Ethiopian, Pergament says) off a shelf near the stage. The instruments and amps ache under the volume of the song and its dissolution. Jansen and Parcells finish on the floor, playing their amps for feedback and fooling with their pedals. Marino puts both drumsticks in her right hand and smashes the shit out of her hi-hats. It’s the last stop in the Tula Vera carnival; it closes the loop.

“We like to end with that song most sets,” Drummond said on Friday. “That ending just works as an ending for the set, just as the intro, ‘The First Thing,’ works as an intro. And then we have a little set-sandwich and we can stuff the middle,” he joked.

“We’re Tula Vera thanks for having us!” Parcells shouts out over the din of the “Truck Driver” feedback. “Thank you thank you!” Their noise fades out, and the show is over.

House music fades in again through the PA system - more Prince, crowing a third time this evening with “When Doves Cry,” with unmistakable beat. Drummond’s ears perk up, his eyes widen. Already coming down giddy from the set, he does a little dance in place and sings along while breaking down.

Parcells and Jansen are breaking down their gear and conferring over something in upbeat tones. Marino is the first to leave the stage, bounding out into the audience area but stopping and spinning around, pondering where to go next. Rashad Wright comes over to Jansen.

“J, baller, solid fuckin’ set, ‘preciate you,” Wright says. Jansen thanks him, and Jansen’s friends come over to dap and recap.

Drummond is stoked to hear they played a straight-through total of 59 minutes. Sixty-two if the tune-up into “The First Thing” is tallied. “We all kind of dream of longer sets and bigger audiences and all that kind of stuff,” Drummond said on Friday, and to have their list of new and old songs to choose from whenever those situations present themselves, like tonight.

The guests file out not long after the show ends. But Tula Vera is not in a huge rush, sticking around till they’re the last in the venue, just breaking down their gear, talking a little smack, relaxing and recapping.

There’s talk of Prototype 237’s potential as a rehearsal space, though Tula Vera is not in imminent need. Wright said they’re moving towards more musical direction, more performances, whereas it’s been primarily visual art. Maybe they can come back for a photoshoot, Parcells says. There’s a keyholder/membership program here, where artists of any inclination can pay to access the space Monday-Friday, 9-5.

Aromas of frozen pizza and macaroni begin to emanate from the kitchen. It is still a residence, after all. Tuck the dog looks either tired or sad to see people leaving.

By 11:01 Tula Vera and Pergament are back in the muraled elevator, sporting warm jackets and loaded with gear, heading out into the cold February night. They straddle the skinny set of cinder block and cement stairs once more, wrap around the front of 237 River Street to the Tula Vera motorcade and pack their cars. They have practice Sunday afternoon in Montclair, and then another practice the following Sunday ahead of their next gig, 12 days out, Thursday, March 3 at Shrine World Music Venue in Harlem.

In the parking lot there’s loose talk of an empanada somewhere. The band is pulled away to pose for one last photo along the facade of the old garment building, the four musicians joined by friend Isa. They say their goodbyes to Pergament, who heads for the elevator and up to his home, and Tula Vera heads to theirs, with everybody’s collective treasures and abundances increased, onto the next.

Tula Vera set list, February 19, 2022 at Prototype 237 in Paterson NJ

1. The First Thing - 3:34

2/3. Human Progress/Time medley - 2:58

4. Gone With The Leaves - 3:50

5. Astro Plane - 2:22

6. Caving In - 4:40

7/8. Reality/Fantasy medley - 5:15

9. Witch’s Back Door - 4:50

10. Sunspot - 3:55

11. Mother Nature’s Sati - 7:00

12. Blue Skies - 4:35

13. Truck Driver - 5:00

You can purchase all of Tula Vera’s discography via Bandcamp or stream it on your platform of choice. Keep up with the band by following them on Instagram and liking them on Facebook. The quartet has a series of gigs coming up, including March 11th in New Brunswick, March 18th in Brooklyn at the Nest, April 2nd at 902 Brewing in Jersey City, and May 14th at the Historic Harsimus Cemetery in Jersey City. You can find a full list of upcoming gigs on the band’s Instagram.

You can also revisit our 2019 podcast interview with them here on the site.

For more information on Prototype 237, including a schedule of upcoming events, check out their website and follow them on Instagram.