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Everyone Wore White one-sheet: PDF
Booking one-sheet (updated for fall '07): Lo-res PDF (for web)
Hi-res Photo: JPG

Carol Bui sings like a woman with perfect posture. The music reels from raucous to serene, and the lyrics run the emotional gamut from chaotic families to foreboding weddings to figuring out how to cyberflirt. But even when she bellows a chorus, tells stories out of school about mother-daughter strife, or bites off a lyric about starving to fit into a dress, Bui's bold tone is steady as a rock.

Everyone Wore White is Bui's second LP, following her 2004 debut This Is How I Recover. Bui has been compared to Kristin Hersh, partly because they're both women who tear it up on guitar. But her writing and her fretwork-- equal parts punk, blues, piss, and a pedestal to stand on-- hew closer to those of J. Robbins in Jawbox and Burning Airlines, or, considering her gift for tunes, maybe Heart. Her fierce guitar, matched by cellist Jenny Petrow, creates soaring melodic hard rock with engrossing sincerity-- as Bob Mould has proven, you can't b.s. a cello. Credit Aloha's T. J. Lipple for the drum work and the stellar production, which translates her intensity to record without losing its beauty or nuance. In the tradition of her hometown of Washington, D.C., she's made a punk-bred record where the guitar is loud but the tunes prevail.

Sometimes the mix poises her too angelically above the fray-- for example, the verse of "St. Elizabeth's", before the chorus rages in. And listeners who crave angst might find Bui reserved, although it's hard to picture not being moved by the abused lover on "Hypnagogia" who lists her blows-- and explains, "I can't lose composure." The most striking performance closes the album: she sings the traditional song "Qua Cầu Gió Bay" ("The Wind on the Bridge") a capella, in a tone so powerful it fills in the meaning that's lost if you don't speak Vietnamese. According to one translation online, it's a song about the things you do on a bridge with a boy that you'll never speak of to your ma and pa. And from the sound of her voice, Bui doesn't regret a thing.

-Chris Dahlen, November 09, 2007

Dear Carol Bui,

Thank you for Everyone Wore White (available Oct. 2 on 54o40' or Fight!), a record that manages to be culturally unique and universal, beautiful and harrowing, frequently within a single song.

Thank you for the handwritten note, which accompanied the CD and pointed out that the nipples on the cover did not belong to you.

Thank you for demonstrating that a female artist can make thought-provoking music and still kick out the jams.

Thank you for the lyric about bundt cake.

Thank you for taking the time to craft an entire album, one in which I find something new to like each time I play.

Thank you for not visiting the Twin Cities on your tour. Yes, that is sarcasm.

Thank you for completing, along with Exile in Guyville and Rid of Me, a rock trifecta.

- Luftmensch

The Note Books series features musicians discussing their literary side. Past contributors have included John Darnielle, John Vanderslice, and many others.

I have been a fan of Carol Bui's for almost two years now. I remember when I first downloaded a track from her debut album, This Is How I Recover, the song literally made me jump up and order the album immediately. Yesterday she released Everyone Wore White (one of my favorite albums of the year), and her skill as a songwriter and performer continues to amaze. My Old Kentucky Blog says Carol Bui's new album, Everyone Wore White, completes a "rock trifecta" (alongside Liz Phair's Exile in Guyvilleand PJ Harvey's Rid of Me). High praise, and well-deserved.

Artists that explore or reflect on the human condition in their body of work fascinate me.

I was reading The Bell Jar when I wrote a good portion of Everyone Wore White. I'm kind of afraid to admit this, but I followed the narrator through her thought processes, through all the hoops and jumps, really believing they were all valid, totally human and understandable. It wasn't until I got to the point in the book when she was committed, when everyone else had declared her kooky, that I thought...wait, so she's nuts? If I am able to relate to her does that mean I'm nuts, too?

I can't say that the book was a big influence on the making of the album, but I did hack a phrase from it for a lyric to "Call For Bangkok".

Like a lot of music fans, I love Jeff Buckley as a singer, songwriter and guitarist. I wanted to see how he made his artistic decisions, how he came to write some of the most beautiful, sincere pieces of rock music, and if he had any of the same creative habits that I have. The book goes through Tim and Jeff's lives concurrently, so one chapter discusses a chunk of Tim's life and the next would discuss a chunk of Jeff's life, and it continues back and forth. At first, the jumping around made it hard for me to follow each chain of events, but it made sense once I saw the parallels between the two lives. I started reading this last winter, but stopped a few months ago when I approached the chapters about their deaths.

The only time I have for recreational reading is just before bed, so unless I stay up for hours, it takes me awhile to finish something. It's not just out of convenience, though. Reading at night helps to purge my brain of any stressors that might keep me from getting my seven or eight hours.

Call me a baby if you want, but I can't read about death at night. I am, however, looking forward to finishing it during the next pocket of downtime on this tour.

I just started this book a few days ago. Back in high school when I was really into making mix tapes, I was the only one within my circle of friends that actually took it seriously. I cared about the track listing, the song selection, what I wanted the recipient to know about me, and so on. What I love so far is that Rob talks about the thoughtful, active process of listening to music. It's a very passive act for many, but as Rob generously demonstrates, it is that much more rewarding when you allow yourself to attach these simple collections of sounds to parts of your human and emotional makeup. I am looking forward to finishing this on tour as well.

Ambivalence is a difficult emotion to deal with in pop music. Yet, there it is in the title of D.C.-based songwriter Carol Bui’s second album, Everyone Wore White [54 40 Or Fight! Records].

To a Western eye, white is, traditionally, the color of purity, and of celebration, new beginnings (brides wear white, for instance). From an Eastern standpoint, white is the color of mourning, of loss. But, to Bui —who is of Vietnamese descent— “white” is culturally fraught, speaking as it does —sociologically, culturally, and racially— of the aspirational desire to assimilate, to “pass” into the dominant culture, and in doing so, to mourn one’s own cultural identification.

The resulting album touches on such complex socio-political themes with a marked lack of earnestness —Bui’s elegiac songs are candid, yes, but play out with the complicated, ambiguous shading of narrative. The album draws a great deal of power from Bui’s poetic yet plainspoken lyrics, expressive vocals, and her unerring ability as a guitarist to pit delicacy against dissonance. The resulting album is a watercolor wash done in bright, saturated hues; multi-faceted, it is as much bluesy lament as it is pure pissed-off fury, as much catharsis as elegy.

Bui was kind enough to answer some questions for me last week, and her answers were thoughtful, candid, and funny. She’s in the middle of an extensive tour for the album —check the tour dates at the end of the interview to see if she might be playing your town. She’ll be in Providence tonight at AS220 —she’s on first. (I think. Whatever you do, arrive early!)

A fair number of your songs deal, either directly or obliquely, with your Asian heritage, either slyly ("Hyphen-American" from This Is How I Recover), or poetically (drawing on traditional songs and arrangements, for instance). You also deal quite frankly with sexual politics, utilizing narrative to give voice to differing perspectives. I imagine that was also your intent with the cover art. The juxtaposition of the elegaic title (Everyone Wore White) with the woman's pose and inscrutable expression hold a great deal of tension. It's a frozen, morally charged moment, all but asking viewers to supply a narrative to go along with it. Why did you pick this image, and, in doing so, what was your intent?

Carol: Honestly, I saw this painting on the artist's website and just thought it was so beautiful and provocative, I had to have it on my album. It wasn't until later, when I had to actually stop and think about how to name the album, when I saw how it all fit so well with the music. The title came from a lyric in "Rockville.”You're quick to see that it's about both celebration and loss. Most people I presented the title to were like 'um, explain, please?"

White is the color of mourning over in most parts of the east... but I also meant for it to be about race, too. I wanted to be white as a kid. And whether my family knew it or not, they did, too. When I was younger, we used to go to Vietnam every summer to visit family. And I remember it being so weird that people loved how light my skin was. Everyone wanted lighter skin over there. My aunts even wore some kind of face cream in this little green tub that supposedly lightened the skin. Fair skin was important. So was the number of creases you have on each eyelid, which kind of translates to how western you look. I remember watching Hong Kong epic movies with my mom and she'd comment on the actresses, how one was ugly because she had only 'mot mi', or one crease on the eyelid...how another was beautiful because her eyes were bigger, skin more fair, and so on.

The title of your new album, Everyone Wore White, evokes both celebration and loss. The music bears this out too, playing out with a kind-of defiant, scorched-earth delicacy. Were these songs conceived as a song-cycle? What was the process of like?

Another question I don't know how to answer! I didn't really have one idea or theme for the album as I wrote the songs. Some of them took months to piece together. Others took maybe a day. My songwriting process has always been kind of instinctive —not so objective, which I think really frustrated some past band mates. I typically start off with a chord progression or 'riff' and then build on top of it. I'll play those parts over and over again for months sometimes before I know what to do with them next. Vocal melodies tend to come easily. I like to sing stuff that kind of bounces off the guitar a little. And I almost always hear drums as I go along and my guitar playing usually reflects that. It's a very physical thing...how it feels to sing and play the songs pretty much dictate how they ultimately come out, I guess.

When did you first start writing your own songs? How has your process changed over time?

I started writing songs when I was 15 or 16. I think it was when I first started listening to Hole and Sonic Youth, because I loved their music, but they also made it seem very doable...that the rules aren't quite so rigid. My process has changed over time somewhat as I'm starting to write less out of ego and more out of …I don't know!

Songwriting is an incredibly personal form of expression, but one's personal style is inevitably shaped by formative influences. What songwriters or bands would you count as your inspirations? Then and now? Do you remember the first sounds that obsessed you, or that shifted your perspective?

My mother used to play these Khanh Ly tapes to help me sleep. I slept in the same room as my parents for a long time growing up, more than most people I know. I remember feeling so sad because some of Mom's favorite songs were about death as a result of war and being displaced, and I kept thinking to myself "I want to die before my parents die. I wouldn't know what to do without them!" I obsessed over that thought all the time. I was always afraid of losing them for some reason. And Khanh Ly —she's a very convincing singer. I think my favorite singers have always been those with voices that are more expressive, dynamic, and "chesty"...not as in breasts, heh —but the push seems to come from their chest or heart rather than the sinuses or nasal passages. Like Stevie Nicks. Jeff Buckley. PJ Harvey. Kathleen Hanna. Kat Bjelland. Robert Plant. Maura Davis. Billie Holiday. Ella Fitzgerald.

You make music in Washington , D.C. There's this clichéd idea of the great big extended Dischord family, but obviously it's a lot more complicated than that! How would you describe the scene there?

I don't know, I don't feel like there's one singular 'scene' or community that stands out to me as the fingerprint of DC right now. Musically speaking, there's TONS going on, especially since those new venues (Rock and Roll Hotel, The Red and Black) opened up on H street. We've got a country, swamp-americana thing going on with bands like Revival, These United States, Shortstack, and Mikal Evans. They're all terrific. We also have this new wave of traditional pop-rock and roll thing with Georgie James, Middle Distance Runner, Greenland... They're all getting a lot of attention.

Dischord is still very active and thriving —with the new Evens record, the Farraquet reunion… Beauty Pill resuming their touring and whatnot. That new Aquarium album that came out last fall is really effing catchy. And there will always be a diy/punk/hardcore/noise scene among the younger bands, mostly supported by Exotic Fever and the local universities. I was just asking Katy Otto of Exotic Fever what she thought because I had absolutely no idea how to answer your question at first, and she said a few things that I think hit the nail on the head. She describes it as "self-started", "risk-taking, and "ever-shifting." I guess throughout the city, those are the constants that we've all inherited from the Dischord legacy. More people are booking their own tours, self-releasing and producing their own records —and so on.

I don't feel guilty about any of it!! Just kidding, that's a total lie...I haven't learned to be THAT self-assured just yet. Heh. I LOVE Beyonce's "B'day". There's this song called "Suga Mama" that's just amazing —so many hooks on that album! I used to be apologetic about liking the Riverdance soundtracks. Some of that stuff is just gorgeous. There's this song called “Macedonian Morning” that's on the second one...I think? I dunno, I love it. The strings are so curvy and beautiful.

Something that inspired you today. It could be an overheard conversation, a piece of music or a passage from a book…

I read "This Band Could Be Your Life" several months ago, and there was one Kim Gordon quote from the Sonic Youth chapter that really sticks to me...it was something like, "people pay money to see musicians believe in themselves."

What do you do when you're not making music? And, if you didn't have music as an outlet, what do you think you'd do instead?

I'm a web programmer by trade. If it weren't for music, I don’t know what I'd do. I'm really obsessed with cinnamon raisin peanut butter from the Peanut Butter Company. I'd probably just eat that all day!

On the new Everyone Wore White (54° 40' or Fight!), Carol Bui more than delivers on the promise of her self-released 2006 debut, This Is How I Recover. Her brambly guitar work, sly melodies, and self-possessed vocals call to mind the Throwing Muses, PJ Harvey, and Sleater-Kinney, but the quirks are unexpected: subtle, cinematic string treatments, pensive lyrics that seem like they were daydreamed into existence, and occasional nods to Bui's Southeast Asian heritage (including an electrified take on "Qua Cau Gio Bay," a Vietnamese folk song). "Quan Am," a haunting original, is one of her best songs to date: its spectral vocal harmonies, contorted feedback guitar, and broad, sinewy drumming (courtesy of Aloha's T.J. Lipple, who also produced the album) make me want to dust off my old Salem 66 LPs. Champion Kickboxer opens.

9 PM, the Note, 1565 N. Milwaukee, 773-489-0011 or 866-468-3401, $8, $6 in advance. —J. Niimi

It's a tempest in a teapot almost entirely forgotten now, but when Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville was first released, there was a fair amount of kerfluffle about the semi-naked woman in the Polaroid shots in the CD booklet, who turned out not to be Phair but a friend of hers. Similarly, singer/songwriter Carol Bui would like everyone to know that although there is a quite pretty drawing of a topless Asian-American woman on the cover of her second album, she wasn't the model. That's not the only point of comparison between Exile in Guyville (or PJ Harvey's Dry, or Rufus Wainwright's Poses, to name other examples) and Everyone Wore White: although it's entirely possible that Bui wrote these ten songs (plus an a cappella cover of a traditional Vietnamese folk song) in character voices other than her own -- that she's no more the woman in the songs than she is the woman on the cover -- there's an intimacy to her performances that suggests otherwise. There aren't just big themes on this album, there are Big Themes, from the many-layered symbolism of the album title (in opposition to its western connotations, white is a color of mourning in many Asian cultures, and then there's the whole "passing for white" concept as well) through to Bui's poetic, emotionally shaded lyrics. Musically, the album reminds listeners that Bui is based in Washington D.C., with all the post-rock angularity, sudden dynamic shifts, and full-on guitar noise assaults that implies. Although Bui's press kit names Hole as a key early influence, Mary Timony's similarly sweet-and-sour dissonance on the early Helium albums is a much closer musical fit to songs like the jittery, propulsive "The Year After." Combining the lyrical weightiness with the spiky post-rock vibes of the music makes Everyone Wore White the sort of album one takes in slowly, over the course of a few close listens, rather than absorbing all at once. Those willing to take the time will be amply rewarded. - Stewart Mason

After listening to local artist Carol Bui's Everyone Wore White, released earlier this month on 54º 40' or Fight! Records, one gets the feeling that she would have been a superstar if the album came out in 1995. Owing more to P.J. Harvey and post-grunge than Lily Allen or Feist, the album seems like an out of place throwback as far as the mainstream goes. What we are left with is a strong effort that showcases a talented singer and songwriter whose work showcases maturity.

The album certainly won't make us forget the likes of Ms. Polly Jean, and there is no trailblazing going on here, but this release is a welcome addition to D.C.'s catalog of local music. The songs themselves are dark, textured, and well constructed. If the album has a flaw, it is that the material is too dark. Bui's lyrics put such a focus on gloom and melancholy that unless one is in the midst of a painful breakup or trying to deal with serious emotional turmoil, listening to the album in one sitting becomes a challenge.

Everyone Wore White is largely a collaboration between Bui and T.J. Lipple. A member of the band Aloha, Lipple produced and engineered the album while also playing drums on several tracks. He and Bui assembled a strong supporting cast who provide a level of musicianship that is uncharacteristic of today's indie rock. Notable guests include Chad Clark of Beauty Pill, and violinist Daniel Hart of The Polyphonic Spree, who is currently a principle in North Carolina's The Physics of Meaning.

The recording has a clean sound to it, so even songs such as the opening track, "1", with its intro of thrashing guitars over trashy cymbals, don't sound like a jumbled mess. Bui's vocals are drenched in reverb through much of the album, but not to the point where it sounds overproduced. This approach works because she favors melodic phrases built of long notes, and the effects give her voice an ethereal quality that is an effective contrast to the frenetic rock underneath. Hart's violin and Jenny Petrow's cello also provide an additional layer of melody and really standout on a track like the ballad, "Eol".

The lyrics for "The Year After" are characteristic of the recording's mood. Bui expresses her heartbreak with lines like, "I'm colder than you'll ever feel this winter/I hated your lies/I hated what you meant to me," but then goes into a soaring chorus that admits her ongoing attraction to the wrong person. Much of the lyrical content follows related themes of failed relationships, romantic or otherwise. One notable song is "Rockville", possibly an autobiographical song telling the story of a difficult childhood. With all of the dense arrangements and heavy themes on Everyone Wore White, the album's peaceful closer, "Qua Câu Gió Bay", provides a welcome relief. A traditional Vietnamese song sung a cappella, it gives some hint of a light at the end of the tunnel.

Carol Bui is a great singer - maybe too good. I rarely listen to vocalists who actually flex their vocal cords on purpose. Bui powers her way through bluesy ballads ("Call From Bangkok"), prog-rock anthems ("Modern Dance"), and dreamy pop workouts ("Quan Am") over minor chords, understated bass lines, and angular drumming. The cool, math-rock undercurrent is more than compensated by personal lyrics recalling moments like no wanting to share Bundt cake with her second-grade class. She's hugely talented, but it's her openness that is most winning. -mw

Innocently enough, Carol Bui's album, This Is How I Recover, begins with a slow driving brushes-upon-drum-kit rhythm and a bare-essentials vocal performance. Slightly off-tune guitars make their way through the smoky atmosphere, and through this fog, Carol's voice appears like a sharp and radiant landmark, embracing each chord progression with strong and heartfelt panache.

Bui knows exactly what she wants to accomplish with her songs. A re-release of the self-released album back in March of 2004, Bui's album is a well-planned, well-executed mix of outright rock songs and blues-inspired bliss. "Checked For Bruises" is a blues song that develops into rock themes as Carol's acoustically-accompanied wail rides the setup perfectly. Each song makes the best use of Carol's dedicated voice, as she squeezes as much feeling out of her Fender Telecaster to match the vocals. An accomplished guitarist with a sexy-bluesy approach, her guitar parts are valid, complex parts that convey gritty attitude and feminine delicacy, as in the solo-guitar song "Roses" or in intros to "A Virgin's Anthem" or "Manic Depression". Hardly a one-person act, however, her songs are drawn with a band setting in mind, as harmonic basslines carry the lead while Carol takes time to focus on rugged or pretty lyrics. "The songs just pour out when I've got lots to say", she says in "Untitled 2", and she stands ready to present strong evidence for her argument.

With ten tracks of pure, unfiltered rock attitude and raw talent, Carol Bui introduces herself as an act that anyone would be crazy to want to miss. Her songs give plenty of enjoyable female vocal beauty and slightly coquettish details, but also deliver large uncharacteristic amounts of attitude and guts when compared to any artist, male or female. Never retreating to hide behind cheap effects, confectionery cliches, or sheer volume, Bui is the authoress of rock songs that live up to the potential of the genre, a dying art given her contemporaries. The blues-infused rock songs with an independent feel make the music sound more like mid-90's indie-rock albums for the authenticity and sincerity that they convey. She faces her audience, guitar in hand, ready to level any expectations of weakness and to smash any boredom with female-led rock to pieces. Thank you, Carol Bui, for making an album that demonstrates rock's essentials with beauty, personality, and wit.

Recommended If You Like: Victory At Sea, the Cranberries, Arkade, Joni Mitchell, Sonic Youth, Sleater-Kinney, Belly

Carol Bui blew me away with, This Is How I Recover. These songs were strong, piercing, beautiful, captivating, meaningful... so much so they were on constant repeat. With this beautiful blend right at my fingertips, I was more than happy to step into her world. Carol Bui's music is like a sweet compilation of various other artists, but surely has its own definitive sound. This Is How I Recover is her diary that she's exposed to the world; one peak and you're craving more. It feels like I've been a fan of her music for forever - a welcome home, if you will. She's so honest, so real, so revealing, it's a genuine connection on the first listen.

It's so easy to fall in love with her music, she's surely stepping it up for singer/songwriters out there. The instrumentals put together by this five piece band will surely captivate you. I could listen to This Is How I Recover time and time again.

In her debut offering, Carol Bui sticks to a formula of dissonance, passion, dark wit and crafty songwriting to provide heavy, charging rock numbers, delivering track after track with hurricane -like force. "Hell Banknotes" opens up This is How I Recover with a subtle and soft first verse, only to leap and branch out into an intense chorus, a climax aided by a gifted backing band. With a voice like an angel - sounding almost opera-trained - Bui reveals her darker side, fully realizing the impact she can create on stage by shifting the mood on the song to full-fledged dissonant rock. Certainly carving out her niche, Bui blends her melodies with balanced, intelligent narratives. Her songs buzz with energy, yet the pace of the record is relaxed, breathing easily from one song to the next. You can really feel softness in the last track, a highlight, "The Beauty Myth," only to be surprised, filled with awe over her raspy, hellish vocal screams. When comparing Bui to other songwriters of her genre, one need only look to those of Buckley or bands like Victory at Sea to find them. There is even a hint of Egyptian tonalities in the song "I Don't Call Him By Name," a breath of fresh air away from usual college radio spins.

This grim little gem bears a 2004 copyright and an ostensible February 2006 release date, implying a potentially dramatic behind-the-scenes story. An examination of singer-songwriter Bui's website, however, suggests that the actual explanation simply relates to her realization that a self-released album was less likely to garner attention than one on a label, hence the creation of her own Drunken Butterfly Records and the revived freshness of an album that's already circulated for a few years.

Whatever drama that story lacks is more than compensated for within the album. This Is How I Recover is a startling debut of striking power, and its relatively brief 35-minute length announces Bui's presence as an accomplished musical force. With a chameleon-like voice that reflects her diverse influences, Bui nonetheless establishes her own identity forcefully, standing apart from the quiet strums expected of a singer-songwriter by rocking out with a muscular guitar stomp often matched in intensity by her uninhibited wails.

"Hell Banknotes" opens the album with languid, almost ethereal vocals akin to Hope Sandoval of Mazzy Star, but the song takes little time to reveal Bui's most pervasive influence: the bluesy bluster of '90s indie-rock staples like Come. Throughout the album, Bui unleashes an impressive torrent of crunchy guitar distortion, playing leads that reveal talents both technical and compositional; though she may lack the sterile virtuosic ability of an arena-rock guitar hero, her parts are creative, searching, and well beyond any simplistic strum-and-sing model. She's able to build tension with her voice, but also with her guitar, as the soft strums and arpeggios of "Untitled #2" barely contain the violence of a few slashed chords that perfectly complement the song's lyrics. "I get so angry I break in half and stab you with part of me", Bui sings, "A jagged edge would hurt like you would not believe". Listening to her, you believe it.

Drummer Mark Taylor assists to notable effect on "Manic Depression"-very much not a Hendrix cover-creating an ominous percussive undertow over which Bui lays a tale of mental instability in a Tanya Donnelly voice that suits the theme nicely. Other tracks address equally heavy fare, with "Hyphen American" weighing in on the complexities of dual identity (Bui is Vietnamese-American) and "A Virgin's Anthem" furiously rejecting masculine sexual politics, but Bui's obvious cultural literacy never impedes the directness of her songs with pedantic showiness. Closing song "The Beauty Myth" may take its title from a Naomi Wolfe tract, but as it escalates from a soft introduction to a jittery barrage of distortion, its indictment of sexism is all Bui's own.

The brief, delicate instrumental "Roses" proves guitar distortion is a tool, not a crutch for Bui. Indeed, the most chilling moment on This Is How I Recover comes on the acoustic blues of "Checked for Bruises", a haunting tale of abuse. "I'm doin' everything I can / Tryin' hard to please my man", Bui sings, before abandoning standard blues tropes for the harrowing punch line: "I give until my hips are sore / But that's not what I was beaten for". While most of the album resists any facile attempt to compare Bui to Ani DiFranco on the dubious grounds of them both being female singer-songwriters, "Checked for Bruises" does show an Ani-worthy ability to crawl under the skin and stay there.

The major flaw on Bui's debut is the production, clearly done on the cheap and often sounding it. While this does inadvertently hearken back to her '90s feminist forbearers, like the Ohio band Scrawl, whose noisy epics also suffered from a certain tinny production, it also reins in the sonic impact at times. It's not clear whether Bui's vocals are buried beneath the music intentionally, a la that early '90s indie-rock sound, or as a result of poor mixing, but that too sometimes hampers the album, especially in the absence of a lyric sheet. Still, This Is How I Recover is a remarkable album; it doesn't show promise, it delivers on it. Carol Bui deserves attention, and she won't be self-releasing her work for long.

She seizes your attention with hardscrabble, gritty guitar riffs and then holds forth on the title theme in aggro, anguished fashion, like the bastard spawn of Eddie Vedder and Alanis Morissette. Sure, no one's really heard of Carol Bui yet, but that could and should change, provided she kicks the habit of prefacing every song with a lengthy intro that telegraphs the melody she's about to wield like a garrote.

Carol Bui's debut rocker "This Is How I Recover" is a testament to long lost post-punk, alternative, and indie rock albums by bands like Belly, Throwing Muses, and Victory at Sea. Her voice foils comparisons as she lingers on a key or note much longer than her predecessors. Dark and dank lyrics coarse through the musical veins of the album as she bellows with intimate melodic vocals. In addition to her vocals and guitar, she also plays flute on the album. You can also find her on albums by The Physics of Meaning with whom she's toured and Beauty Pill. Killer.

A bold and potent debut from this Virginia-based singer and songwriter, 'This Is How I Recover' is a solid indie rock record that moves effortlessly from raw post-punk stomp to more sensitive indie-pop. Bui's vocals are distinctive and confident, while her band complements her with a strong, though not overly distinctive backdrop. Fans of strong indie songwriters like PJ HARVEY or KRISTIN HERSH should find plenty to enjoy in Bui's work. (Drunken Butterfly)

The simplistic guitar-driven rock of Carol Bui reminds one of Susanne Vega or even Alanis Morrisette; throughout all of this, there is a sound that is Bui's and Bui's alone. The earthy guitar work present on a track like "This Is How I Recover" draws listeners back to the days of Sebadoh, even as the arrangement of Bui's seems much more influenced by medieval music than anything. Where carol Bui moves beyond other artists like Leah Zicari and the rest of that ilk is that there is actually musical arrangements that individuals want to hear on "This Is How I Recover".

Too many singer-songwriters try to come forth in the American Idol-type of sound (Carrie Underwood) without really creating a full package that individuals would actually want to hear. Bui puts on equal footing eir band, and it is this consideration that puts "This Is How I Recover" along Liz Phair instead of Michelle Branch. There are even tracks on "This Is How I Recover" that are primarily instrument-heavy tracks, the most noticeable of which being "Untitled #2". "Untitled #2" only uses Bui's voice a few times throughout the track, really opting to have the guitars put forth the emotional content through their Appleseed Cast-like arrangements on the track.

When the two parts of this album separate (the vocal and the instrumental), the magic begins. On "Hyphen American", the chaos of the instrumentation influences Bui's voice in a very interesting way. This is done by essentially putting a light on the vocals, in order to make bizarre shadows that are not necessarily in the actual body. This "deep" sound works at odds with a very pop-laden sound, making "Hyphen American" a track for everybody. The disc is short - thirty-four minutes - but Bui crafts tracks that stretch out time and existence itself until that point when the disc ends and the listener is changed. This is traditional guitar-lead indie rock, but during tracks like the aforementioned "Hyphen American", a flute comes in and makes a world of difference. The tension of being a current artist and having most of the songs on "This Is How I Recover" tied in heavily with a style that seems much older really pushes Bui and the rest of eir band to the next level. Sure, there are hints of the eighties and nineties here, but the music on the disc transcends any time period of pigeonhole-ready genre.

Carol Bui fills a nice void in indie music. Her blues tinted rock is catchy without feeling like it's sacrificing creativity or composition. One moment Bui can snarl, the next she can swoon.

She is an exceptional guitar player, both in actual skill and her ability to convey specific atmospheres in her playing. Very few female guitar players (especially in the indie scene) can do what she does song in and song out. Bui uses both electric and acoustic guitar to great effect. Less skillful is her singing. She's not a bad singer by any stretch of the imagination. And as far as technical skill goes, she's pretty good. Her voice lacks that certain punch to them to make them lasting. But they are a decent compliment to the guitar playing and song composition.

The biggest distraction to the album is that it sounds very indie. The production is hollow and weak. The mix is rather muddy. As a result the songs don't ripple with power as they should otherwise. I'm sure that hearing these songs live would be quite the experience.

Definitely check out Carol Bui sound clips and see what you think. It's a pretty good, if flawed, listen.

Fresh out of college last year, singer-songwriter Carol Bui did what any new grad would do: She started her own record label. Drunken Butterfly Records was born and still boasts its roster of one: Bui, herself. The local songstress said she started Drunken Butterfly to put out "This is How I Recover," and notes that a label "looks better than 'self-released' or 'unsigned.'" Can't argue with that. "I'm hoping to find real label support as soon as possible, but it's DIY until then," she added. While this gritty blues artist runs the business by herself, she says she's received guidance, advice and resources from other local labels to keep everything running smoothly. Bui said she's too swamped with the work for her label to take on any new artists right now, but she hopes to one day pass on the administrative duties; After all, she needs to focus on the business's artist development, too.

With a sound that's oddly familiar (in a good way), yet unique enough to separate her from the crowd, Carol Bui floats to the top of the vast and varied talent pool of local musicians. Blues, rock, alt-punk-it's all in her debut album, "This is How I Recover." Washingtonians-and anyone else for that matter-in search of good old-fashioned songwriting should look no further than Bui's notable tunes "Hell Banknotes," "Manic Depression" and a slew of others from her album. Keep an eye on this one.

Washington's Carol Bui plays guitar like a girl--a pithy, no-BS, hard-rocking girl who favors fretwork dissonance over pretty jangle. Her This Is How I Recover debut reveals a singer/songwriter with brassy pipes and a brain full of ideas to unload in streamlined power-trio format. Noisy, rippling room-shakers such as "A Virgin's Anthem," "Hell Banknotes," and "Checked for Bruises" recall the salad days of Sleater-Kinney and Throwing Muses, but the real prototype is Salem 66's knack for the gorgeous melodic kernel inside the jagged, off-kilter rock. Bui's voice doubles as both lovely foil to noisy eruptions and siren call above a knotted riff, and the skin puckers when her power chords underscore a throaty scream

The former guitarist in Washington, D.C.-based punk outfit Princessed, Virginia singer/songwriter Bui's debut full-length effort is a razor-sharp sword that strikes through the cute-chick-with-a-guitar bullshit and delivers a hard-rocking set of winners. Carol and her thrashing rhythm section (drummer Marc Taylor and alternating bassists, Ian Wright and producer Marcus Esposito) hammer out raw, bar band rawk and roll, with Carol's occasionally anguished bluesy wail delivering the goods on tracks like "Checked For Bruises." While the songs aren't as radio friendly as a Sheryl Crow, at least she doesn't use her sexuality to hide behind pedestrian product like a Liz Phair. In that regard, I would recommend her to fans of harder edged, yet sincere female guitarists like Joan Jett and Penny Ikinger.

"Manic Depression" seamlessly blends her coy, little-girl vocals with brilliant flashes of guitar mayhem, while "Untitled #2" is a bubbling cauldron of emotional angst that threatens to burst through your speakers and grab you by the throat at any minute as Bui coaxes a big, fat sound out of her guitar reminiscent of Mark Kozelek's deliberate plucking on his early Red House Painters albums. Bui's impressively delicate flute flourishes on "Hyphen-American" (a heartbreaking discourse on her personal conflict of balancing her traditional Vietnamese homelife with her later Americanization upbringing through school, etc.) adds another dimension to the album, which should also appeal to fans of other Kozelek-produced female singer/songwriters Hannah Marcus and Lisa Cerbone. And while Chrissie Hynde will immediately come to mind on the punky closer, "The Beauty Myth," which suggests there may be some black leather under that satin and chiffon exterior, it's the softer tracks which will bring me back for repeated listens.

Let's take a minute and play a game of "Subvert that Song" - in this case paraphrasing a line from Ms. Bonnie Tyler, of Footloose fame - and ask ourselves this, and only this: "Where have all the good women gone?" Our old and trusted heroines seem to be fading quickly. PJ Harvey made a hasty exit (stage right), with her promised return-to-form going out with a whimper instead of the colossal bang that long-time fans expected; Kathleen Hanna, who once so adamantly demanded that we collectively suck her left one, now plies her trade with "adorable" hands-on-hip and tongue-in-cheek postures; even Liz Phair, our Most Holy Lady of Unrepentant Fuckery, has repatriated herself back into Guyville by posing as an absurd and ultimately empty cheesecake model.

Seriously: what happened to the so-called "Female Revolution" in music, when the fairer sex promised to not only rock harder, but rock smarter than any man in the scene? Admittedly, there have and always will be strong women in rock - I imagine the likes of Patti Smith, Exene Cervenka, and Kim Gordon would send me a metaphysical psychic backhand if I didn't say otherwise - but recent trends in popular music reveal a dearth of females who are willing to plug-in, turn-up, and give the trusty ol' DS-1 a good stomp. I have seen faceless sex symbols, wispy chanteuses, and whiny folksters by the dozen, even the occasional riot grrl masking her harmlessly cute clichés as femme punk attitude; however, with the exception of a few relentlessly innovative standard-bearers (God bless their stalwart hearts), it seems that no one is willing to pick up the glove unwittingly thrown down by Kristen Hersh all those years ago.

This being the case, I didn't expect much when I got ahold of a copy of Carol Bui's self-released debut LP This Is How I Recover, despite the ardent praise and admiration I've heard. At best, I expected a tired retread of alt-rock girl-pop, a la Veruca Salt or Juliana Hatfield; at worst, I expected a Le Tigre cover band. What I didn't expect was 35 minutes of visceral, blues-driven and post-punk-inflected rock music, anchored by a schizophrenic voice that's sweetly seraphic at one moment and all righteous fury the next. This is anachronistic music in the best sense possible, harkening back to the glory days of quietly momentous college rock. It's smart and raucous, introspective and loud, and proof that the revolution's unofficial credo - i.e., women can indeed make sharp, intelligent, and universally appealing rock music without relying on the crutches of militant feminism - still lives on.

The most immediately striking aspect of Bui's sound is her guitar work, which constantly rides that fine line between melody and noise. She's unafraid of dissonance, favoring a tone that's harsh and metallic, and balanced with a sloppily virtuosic style that's reminiscent of J Mascis, Doug Martsch, or even Stephen Malkmus. However, what makes her fretwork so interesting are the unexpected melodic shifts that it'll take, which often resemble the best moments of Hersh's guitar playing in Throwing Muses. For example, "A Virgin's Anthem" opens up with an abrasive, vaguely bluesy riff, which eventually gives way to sweetly melodic single-note plucking before bursting into a slightly dissonant, Sonic Youthish (circa Dirty) chord progression. It's a wonderful switch, and the style lends her songs a subtle sense of variation that prevents them from dragging or becoming too repetitive.

Vocally, Bui often sounds like a cross between Sleater-Kinney and the aforementioned Muses. She has great range, with a voice that swaggers between Corin Tucker's big, brassy notes and the smoky, serene croon that Hersh favored in Throwing Muses' quieter moments. Furthermore, her vocals often act as the cohesive force behind all the songs, swooping in and ensuring that the instruments remain consistent and unified throughout each track. It's no coincidence that one of the weaker moments on the album is a short guitar instrumental titled "Roses," which dawdles on far more than necessary. While the guitar work is impressive, the track seems much longer than its minute-length would suggest.

There are a few missteps here and there, the most notable being a solo acoustic piece called "Checked for Bruises." Bui's strength is most evident in her full-band arrangements, and her two solo pieces on the album can quickly become repetitive and a little tiresome. But these are only minor annoyances, and they do not detract at all from the cutting guitar work and swirling rhythms of her other pieces; if anything, they help to buoy the album as a whole, offering a welcome reprieve and a quiet moment of reflection between the louder, more abrasive tracks.

This is How I Recover is a confident and striking debut, filled with passion and verve. Every track on the album is greatly indicative of Bui's impressive songwriting talents and technical skill, from the quiet and darkly unassuming notes of the opening track "Hell Banknotes" to the driving, almost arena-like rock of the closer "Beauty Myth." And if it ever sounds familiar, as if the album itself is calling from a different time period, it is only because it evokes a more wondrous period in indie music, when every song spawned by the underground seemed to hold promise and limitless potential. Bui is off to a magnificent start in her career, and I can only see her becoming better and better.

by Daniel Patrick

Why are all depressed female singers with soul compared to Tori Amos? Like that chick from Evenessence - much more Tool than Tori. And Maynard can sing higher than most girls anyway. So it's settled: Carol Bui wrings her despair through Eastern scales like the iron-larynxed Maynard James Keenan. Her intricately sloppy guitar style, with its bluesy grit and jarring additive rhythms, makes me want to mosh and self-mutilate. Whoever "discovers" this girl, takes her out of Fairfax, and gives her a big contract might have an icon on his hands.

by Grant Capes

Obviously, Ms. Bui has had some past issues and was in need of some serious recuperation. What she has found may not cure cancer, but it will get your head nodding and your toe tapping. This is a hell of a noisy album, with plenty of electric guitar to keep you rocking out. This is also a hell of a pretty album, with a lot of catchy pop sensibilities to it.

Made up of most of her self-released debut EP, the songs have sort of a demo feel to them still, but the raw talent is there in spades. Carol and company lay down what their bassist, Ian Wright, describes as PJ Harvey-style rockers, with some better vocals. I would not go that far in my description, but this is a step above coffee house music and the army of Ani Difranco clones. But let's put all that aside. there is no need for name-dropping or comparisons. Let's just say that this chick rocks and leave it at that.

This is a strong first full length from an artist who is doing it her way and doing what she loves really well. Go get it, and if she comes to your town in an electric-guitar storm of distortion and fury, go see her play and help her down the road of recovery.

Music Review by Mark Jenkins

Ever since Bob Dylan strapped on an electric guitar back in 1965 rock and folk have had a wary relationship. Folkies protest that rock is frivolous, while rockers complain that folk is self-important. Yet the two styles often come together convincingly. That's what happens, Mark Jenkins reports, in the music of Fairfax singer-songwriter Carol Bui.

Carol is a singer-songwriter with a conscience. She actually thinks about bass and drum parts, and because of that, her music sounds fuller. This isn't rocket-science, but far too many people in Carol's situation just don't think about it, or they don't care. Now, this isn't to say it always sounds good, it can occasionally be muddled and sometimes it is even hard to hear Carol's voice. But her slower songs benefit from it, like "Hell Banknotes" which sounds rather bluesy, suiting Carol's voice well. The best blues example however, is "Checked for Bruises." There are some great guitar parts throughout, some really good compositions. Given some time, Carol could certainly carve out a niche as a local girl-rocker.

Posted by Ian Buckwalter in 'DCist Interviews' for October 28th, 2006 DAM! Fest show at The Red and Black Bar, DC.

Over the past few years, Carol Bui has been working hard building a following for her inventive and emotive post-punk. After a summer spent in the studio recording the follow-up to her highly praised debut, This is How I Recover, Bui's show at next week's DAM!Fest kicks off three weeks of touring that will take her as far west as Madison, Wisconsin. Bui's reputation for excellent live shows precedes her, and material from the new album promises to be an eclectic offering. Her band, including Len Bias drummer Mark Raymond, bassist Ian Wright (who will be replaced on tour by Bui's former bandmate in punk outfit Princessed, Meagan Perkins) and cellist Jenny Petrow, will join her at The Red and The Black on Friday, October 28, along with Decibully and Laura Burhenn.

I was invited to play DC with Decibully. They're on tour and the DC date coincides with the festival. That's how we both got involved!

Some aspects of DAM!Fest remind me a little of the International Pop Underground Festival.that festival was obviously a watermark for a particular community, is there a feeling that this event might help to galvanize and bring together D.C.'s musicians in a similar way?

I think the creators of The International Pop Underground Festival had a more targeted mission in that they were specifically promoting DIY ethics/punk rock spirit and aligning like-minded music lovers against corporate music. From what I understand, the DAM!Fest serves a different purpose, but one just as valuable; to simply promote and bring in great music to our home town. I do think it will bring the D.C. music community a little closer, and that this community will include a wider range of fans and musicians. You don't have to be anti-corporate or religious about DIY practices (not that there's anything wrong with that) to feel comfortable in taking part.

To be a D.C. musician is to be constantly inspired and motivated by surrounding local bands, fans, labels and other creative types. The many D.C. music peeps I know and respect are all talented, hardworking, and incredibly driven - many of them are self-booked, self-promoted with records self-released, and so on...they don't wait to be 'discovered' or whine about not being famous yet...they work for their art because they sincerely love it. I'm proud to say that I've done quite a bit of it myself (only because no one else can do it for me!!) and have looked up to many of these folks as examples to follow. People like Gist/Red Stapler Records, Katy Otto/Exotic Fever, Laura Burhenn/Laboratory Records, Miguel and Raul/Echelon Productions, Dischord and tons of others have been a total inspiration.

Tell me about your favorite D.C. show memory; either as a performer or an audience member.

I saw Sleater Kinney last year at the 9:30 club and was completely blown away. Carrie Brownstein is a fucking fireball. I'd kill to have the same kind of energy on stage as she did. Another one was when I teared up at an Aloha show while they played "Boys in the Bathtub". That line "and the sun turns your pillow to a rock/If I had my way, I'd just turn back the clock..." gets me every time.

The record is coming along wonderfully. We hit kind of a roadblock in the schedule and are taking a lot longer than anticipated, but I'm confident that something really, really great will come out of it all. Chad and TJ (Silver Sonya) are fucking brilliant. I've been a ridiculous fan of both guys and their respective bands (Beauty Pill and Aloha) for awhile now and am still amazed that I get to collaborate with them. Not only are they producing and engineering, but TJ is also playing drums...and some fucking awesome beats, mind you. My sound has definitely been augmented by these guys.

We're covering a lot of musical ground. Sometimes I listen to the stuff we've done so far and think, OK, this is going to be a gothic, art-pop record; oh, wait, it's more of a classic blues-based rock record; no, it's a little on the weird, mathy side with epic, prog-ish numbers. I'm even doing my own rendition of an old Vietnamese folk song. I guess it's good that I can't easily explain it. I'm covering some scary territory as far as subject matter goes; the songs are mostly about the spiritual/cultural/general craziness that goes on in my family (and in my head).

How do you think you arrived at that diversity? What is your writing process like?

I just mess around on my guitar and piece stuff together until it feels right. A lot of it is trial and error and experimentation with rhythm and melody. Usually, I come up with base chord progressions, and then change the phrasing around by dropping or adding a beat where it feels right to. How it feels to perform a song is the most important thing to me...and at the risk of coming across as a total drama queen, the performance of each song has to be a somewhat cathartic experience for me. So if I don't feel like a song can exorcise demons, then I know it needs more work.

Posted by Sommer Mathis in 'Arts & Events' for April 23, 2006 show at Galaxy Hut, Arlington, VA.

We like to think Carol Bui as the D.C. area's own, personal P.J. Harvey. Much like Harvey, Bui really requires a raucous backing band to challenge her hard-charging vocals, so we're glad to hear she'll be back home tonight at Galaxy Hut with her boys Mark and Ian, rocking out like she outta be. We're all for sharing you with the rest of the country, Carol, but you are not a girl who should be taking the stage alone, just you and your guitar. We think too much of your rock chops. With Pagoda, 9:45 p.m., $5.

By Fritz Hahn, Rhome Anderson and David Malitz for April 23, 2006 show at Galaxy Hut, Arlington, VA.

Carol Bui is a girl with a guitar, but she's not one of those girls with a guitar. No offense to those girls with guitars, but it's nice to see a woman rock out. After playing a bunch of out-of-town shows solo electric - possibly the least forgiving performance setup - Bui will have her full band for her homecoming show tonight at Galaxy Hut. Don't expect any riot grrl sounds, but if you like that early-'90s New England college radio sound - Throwing Muses, the Breeders, Belly, etc. - this is a show for you. Openers Pagoda play subdued, atmospheric rock that brings to mind Yo La Tengo and Galaxie 500. Chances are that the majority of the people in attendance tonight were DJs in their undergrad days.

Carol Bui will be appearing with Alina Simone (618) this Sunday at Java's Cafe in Rochester. It's a free show and starts at 9. I wont be able to make this show as I have obligations to another show, but I do know Alina comes highly recommended by various other trustworthy music sources I have. Bui used to be in a DC punk band named Princessed. Her solo material has more of a Throwing Muses and mellower Bellini feel to it though. Carol is also the guitarist on these recordings. I am not sure why, but there seems to be an influx of impressive female guitarists coming my way lately. Carol looks to be yet another.