Artist description High energy driven Rock 'N' Soul music.

Music Style Rock

Musical Influences Rock/Soul/Punk

Similar Artists You name it. You might be right.

Artist History An institution of both the Los Angeles and New Orleans rock scenes, Pleasure Club is the brainchild of singer/songwriter James Hall (ex- Mary My Hope). Named after his 1996 solo album, the band is a smooth blend of his dark post-punk influences and his own swaggering rock and roll persona. Formed with bassist Grant Curry (who had also worked on his solo records), the band was rounded out by L.A. natives Marc Hutner and Michael Jerome. Wearing their influences on their sleeves, the band put a spin on the gothic blues of the Gun Club and the driving alternative rock of the Cult while maintaining Hall's distinct croon and presence. Their eponymous debut arrived in 2002, following a brief period where the individual members worked on a few outside projects.

Group Members Grant W. Curry James Hall Marc Hutner Michael Jerome

Albums Here Comes The Trick

Press Reviews SXSW Records Phases and Stages BY KATE X MESSER March 14, 2003: Pleasure Club Here Comes the Trick In 1996, Geffen signed James Hall but didn't know what to do with him. They had a bombshell in this New Orleans dandy, but stuck him in the dud pile with the AAA farts. Major label marketing at its most clueless. Against the odds, Hall has reassembled the faithful and released his own damned album as the Pleasure Club. Exploding with opener "Permanent Solution," Hall stakes his claim as the great white hope of modern rock music, slapping the defibrillators on Mick and Keef, and scraping the moss off rock & roll's most visceral elements: whole measures of down-stroked power chords, ominous basslines, and blood-curlding sympathy for the devil. And baby, he can dance. In rump shaker, "Daze in Daze Out," Hall's sexy, disaffected drawl and guitarist Marc Hunter's agit-Verlaine out-Lennys Mr. Kravitz and makes tacos out of the Chile Peppers, throwing in nods to Knitting Factory skronk-masters to boot. Hunter's real Television comes out in the mercurial "Good Time Girl," tinkling the fret board like it's ivory. When things slow down on the last three tracks, Hall quells his exorcistic yowl and dons his prettiest Sunday-go-to-meetin', like Smokey, Al, or Marvin. Christ, haven't we suffered enough false rock messiahs? It's time for legions to render unto James Hall and the Pleasure Club. They survived the hand-rinsing of major label neglect and are giving us one more chance to be saved. The rock has been rolled away, finally.

Location Los Angeles, CA - USA

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