Bamboo Shoots

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There's something odd about Bamboo Shoots. Certainly a band of four brown-skinned boys whose collective faces look equally at home on a terrorist watchlist as any promotional poster is, well, unique. That all of the members are of Indian descent at a time when Indian culture is exploding globally is surely. noteworthy. "We gave up on fitting in a long time ago," states singer/guitarist Avir Mitra with a shrug.



Mix innovative hooks and lean guitars with urban inspired beats and subtle world flavor, add a dash of Brooklyn cred but temper it with a lyrical openness - now you begin to get at the sound of Armour, their Epic Records debut. It's future-feeling and it's retro and it almost didn't happen.



As the story goes, Avir was only days away from joining medical school when the band got a life-changing phone call: they had won MTVu's Best Music on Campus contest and would be signing with Epic. They would perform on "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" in a few days. Welcome to Bamboo Shoots' world.



Avir and bassist/vocalist Karl Sukhia began playing music together after bumping heads as kids in the Zoroastrian community to which their parents belonged. They recorded songs on an old PC with a pencil mic. It was several years before they met drummer Shiv Puri, a brilliant finance student who needed something more to crunch than numbers - Shiv soon found his salvation in drumming with the duo. At their first practice, friend of a friend Ankur Patel showed up with what was to become a key ingredient - an Indian folk drum called the dhol. They covered Hall and Oates. Ankur, an up-and-coming DJ, wove 808s and percussion into the mix and was in the band by day's end.



Fast-forward through the time spent lugging gear, sleeping on floors and scrounging cash for studio time. It's 2008 and the band is signed and ready to record. They've toured with Plain White T's, rocked shows with Soulja Boy, locked in a Gibson sponsorship and just finished a national ad campaign with Virgin. Jerry Harrison (of Talking Heads and Modern Lovers) was the first to see Bamboo Shoots' potential and signed on as producer.



"Talking Heads' style stemmed from rhythm - we saw a common thread there," explains Avir. "Jerry dusted off old Heads' synths and guitars that hadn't been touched in years," adds Karl. "Avir played most of the album on the same Strat that was used on Stop Making Sense."



The band proceeded to cold call their favorite mixer, UK-based Mark "Spike" Stent. His familiarity with both pop (Madonna, Beyonce, U2) and indie (MIA, Arcade Fire, CSS) matched perfectly with the band's vision. Despite more lucrative offers, Spike heard something in the tracks and eagerly signed on to mix. "Everyone in the studio was curious to see who this baby band was that Spike had chosen to work with," notes Shiv.



The result, Armour, is a debut that effortlessly sounds unlike any of its peers. "Hey Girl," a throwback to Prince's "Controversy," sets the tone with a sing-along verse and a bassline that stabs you over and over. From there, the band never loses their laser-like focus on hooks, beats and vibe. "Where the Ocean Meets the Road" feels like it should have been on the Days of Thunder Soundtrack. You would focus on the retro cool, but you are too busy humming it in your head. Ballads like "Whenever You're Around" conjure up comparisons to Justin Timberlake's solo work, until of course a shrieking guitar comes in and throws off the entire comparison. Tracks like "Milk, Satin & Silk" get the hipsters blogging, while "Wrong All Along" cuts to the angsty chase and gets the teens bopping. Bamboo Shoots is equal parts Brooklyn and suburban New Jersey, and Armour reflects it.



Still, it's hard to describe the reaction Bamboo Shoots gets at their live shows, where sets become excuses for all-night dance parties. Things just connect. A recent media-frenzied tour of India only fuels suspicion that the appeal of Bamboo Shoots could be exceptionally broad. Indeed, there is something unpredictably odd going on here. Let's hope it stays that way.