February 27th, 2003 Issue of Las Vegas Citylife magazine

Olympian heights:
Local act Mama Zeus angles for a major-label record contract
By Aaron Archer

While the current state of the industry is more obsessed with image than what comes out of the speakers, Mama Zeus continually focuses on the most important aspect of any band: the music.

Mama Zeus formed in 1996, with many lineup changes in the early days before the band settled on its current incarnation: singer Nicole Sottile, guitarists Charlie Vantine and Bill McCleary, bassist Kyle Adoor and drummer Vinnie Castaldo,. Two records - Inside #21 and Blue Soul Fire - were released independently and received much acclaim, solidifying the band as one of Las Vegas' best and hardest working. Gigs opening for numerous national acts and reaching the top of Disc Maker's "Independent Music World Series" held in Los Angeles proved the band's power and strengthened Mama Zeus' already sizable following. and viability.

Now we reach a crossroads. The local veterans are taking it to the next level and a national audience.

"Our next goal is to secure a major-label recording deal, which we're currently working our asses off for," Sottile says.

Unlike some local bands that refer to an uncle that "only dabbles" in managing a hardware store and is "really an industry mogul," Mama Zeus has nothing less than a true professional in New York-based Jeff Birnbaum.

"The approach we're taking is creating customized promotional packages for each A&R person or label, in order to give them the best representation of the band as possible," Sottile explains.

Finding a national audience for Mama Zeus' brand of thoughtful, gritty rock 'n' roll should be no problem, with Sottile's compellingly seductive singing, the hard-hitting twin-guitar assault of Vantine and McCleary, and the tight rhythms of Adoor and Castaldo, not to mention the band's impeccably catchy songwriting.

"We look how we look, but we're always striving to make the music the best it can be," McCleary says.

Mama Zeus plays Crown & Anchor March 15 at 10 p.m.. Admission: $3. Info: 702-739-8676.

Aaron Archer is a local freelance writer and musician.

August 2001 Issue of Performing Songwriter magazine
Top Twelve "DIY" releases

Mama Zeus
Blue Soul Fire
Produced by Mama Zeus

Las Vegas once rivaled New York and Los Angeles as the capitals of American entertainment; now Las Vegas is more of a theme park city, a place where a musician can go to make a decent living without ever approaching the bright lights of stardom. The hard rock quintet Mama Zeus must want to do more than just make music a job, because their sophomore self-released LP Blue Soul Fire has the sound and attitude of a band who wants those bright lights squarely on them, even if it burns.
   Lead singer Nicole Sottile howls seductively over the epic, soaring twin-guitar attack of Charlie Vantine and William McCleary, while bassist Kyle Ador and percussionist Vinny Castaldo pound out bedrock rhythms in the tradition of Led Zeppelin and Pearl Jam. The resultant noise has depth and texture and a provocative level of sensuality. Anthemic tracks like “Nightbloom” and “Lullabye” eschew glam and faux-funk in favor of stirring eddies of the sort of soulful heat suggested by the album title. Blue Soul Fire is a passionate record, packed with spunk and spiritual presence, and though it’s performed with the competence of Vegas professionals, there’s nary a trace of glitz.


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January 07, 2001 edition of the Las Vegas Weekly

Noise: Livin' la vida local
A look at the best Vegas releases of the year

By Jeff Inman (inman@lasvegasweekly.com)

It seemed like 2000 was the year of promises--promises of new albums, record deals and Top 40 success. But, like most campaign pledges, a lot of the promises never came through. Albums sat unfinished; deals--except, of course, for Phatter Than Albert's--fell through; and dreams of "TRL" triumphs slipped away like a Gore presidency.

But while 2000 didn't pan out as originally thought--there was no new Slaughter album, afterall--some quality material did sneak out from behind the neon, surprising more than a few people. Sure, there wasn't a glut of records like '99. But what did hit the streets more than showed that Vegas is ready to leave the lounge tag behind. Here's a rundown of the best of 2000.

 

2- MAMA ZEUS: BLUE SOUL FIRE

It's been a long day. The boss was bitching; nothing seemed to go right. The only solution is a pint before you head home. As you walk in the bar, a few people, all looking like they were just pulled from a '73 Zeppelin show, are mulling around on the small stage in the corner, plugging in guitars, checking a few mics. You grab a stool, light a smoke, snagging the bartender's attention in the process. By the time you get your beer, a fiery redhead takes center stage. Guitars start to blare; she begins to belt out a few notes. And in that instant, everything suddenly feels all right.


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December 29, 2000 edition of the Las Vegas SUN


Sound Check -- Geoff Carter:
Mama Zeus disc sets room on 'Fire'

geoff.carter@vegas.com.

---

Stanley Kubrick filmed most of "Barry Lyndon" by candlelight. He worked with the Zeiss camera company to create special lenses that could capture the nuances of candlelight -- the flickering, gold wash of illumination that seems to make surfaces ripple. Take the coldest, florescent-lit room and light it with candles; it becomes a place to drink wine, relax or invoke romance.

Kubrick used candles to enhance the truth of his art -- in the 18th century world of "Barry Lyndon," you used candles or sat in a dark room.

Las Vegas' Mama Zeus practices, records and even plays live with candles burning, for reasons wholly similar to Kubrick's: the only way the band could make its sensual, 1970s-vintage rock 'n' roll is by candlelight. You could try to tell the band about low-wattage bulbs, diffusers and the like, but it wouldn't matter -- Mama Zeus takes pride in its anachronism. Electricity is for amplifiers, and false light is for suckers.

"Blue Soul Fire," the group's latest record, has real light streaming from its nine tracks. Much of it comes from vocalist Nicole Sottile, one of the most dynamic performers the local music scene has known. She's a stunning beauty with real rock-star presence and a control over her instrument seldom heard within city limits. Her whisper-to-a-shout performances on "Somehow," "Over and Over" and "Promise" only hint at her live chops. It's little wonder she's Mama Zeus' anchor.

However, Sottile never tries to run the show. She's in perfect harmony -- literal and metaphorical -- with the rest of the band: guitarists Charlie Vantine and Bill McCleary, bassist Tony Breit and drummer/keyboardist Vinny Castaldo. The band generates a burn that Sottile is challenged to match. The scratchy guitars of "Oceanside" are practically a second vocal, and in "We're Alive," Castaldo and Breit faithfully recreate an O'Jays/Isaac Hayes rhythm track. You have to play confidence to mine these influences, and more confidence still to honor them the way Mama Zeus does.

I called Mama Zeus' debut, "Inside #21," a raw diamond. It was a fine effort, but paled against the band's live show. By comparison, "Blue Soul Fire" is shiny and neatly cut -- it echoes the live show with near-perfect fidelity. The only thing I can say against the record is that it's too short: at just 33 minutes, you'll need to listen to it at least twice. But that's the band's affinity for the 1970s at work; before targeted marketing, albums were as long as they needed to be. Filler -- or deliberate filler, at least -- didn't exist.

Mama Zeus has much to be proud of in "Blue Soul Fire." If it were a Kubrick film, even the relentless perfectionist would have matter-of-factly averred to it as one of his best. It's a real shame the filmmaker died before he could hear what a candle sounds like. If you've never bought a record by a local band before, start with this one.


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From the December 14, 2000 Edition of the Las Vegas Weekly

	Maternal Instincts Mama Zeus takes rock where it was meant to go

By Jeff Inman (inman@lasvegasweekly.com) & Photos by Jenna Bodnar (lasvegasweekly@lasvegasweekly.com)
From left, Bill McCleary, Charlie Vantine, Nicole Sottile, Dave St. John, Vinnie Castaldo

Nicole Sottile has her back against the wall. Her red curls blend in with the huge rug dangling from the ceiling. The faint flicker of a candle is waltzing across her face. Her eyes are closed, lost in that trance only singers seem to get caught in--a blur of emotions leaked out in melody and made whole by a few bits of wound metal and some plastic pulled tight.

At the moment, she's playing the jilted lover, belting out the song "Over and Over," a not-so-subtle salute to independence. She hits the sweet spot on the words "We can't keep hurting each other," her voice suddenly taking on the rasp of a fifth of Jack. The rest of the band drives the point home, banging through the bluesy barfight of a tune.

As Sottile lets her voice fade for a second, handing over the focus to guitarists Bill McCleary and Charlie Vantine, her head drops and a smile starts to slide across her face. Her body begins to shake a little. Her hair flaps about. Sottile is lost to the world.

"There's nothing like real rock 'n' roll," she'll say a few days later. "You know that feeling you get when you're listening to something great, and it makes you want to roll down your windows and sing at the top of your lungs? There's nothing else that can make you feel that way." Obviously not.

For those about to rock

Clockwise,Charlie Vantine, Bill McCleary, Dave St. JohnThe word rock doesn't mean a whole lot anymore. It's been stretched, pulled and tugged more times than Plastic Man, manipulated to include everything from Santana and Rob Thomas to Papa Roach and Rob Zombie. It's been corrupted by image coordinators, reduced to bleach-blonde sideburns cut below the ear, wrap-around shades and a generally superior attitude. It's a catch-all, an umbrella, and underneath it sits a thousand sub-genres, little niche markets tailor-made for each age group and emotional state. Rock has become a well-formulated marketing plan.

It didn't used to be that way. Rock was the great unifier. In the late '60s and early '70s it was the four-letter word for rebellion; it was ideals and identity, a sort of secret handshake that only the cool kids knew.

Yeah, maybe that's romanticizing it a bit. And, sure, there were the quirks who went against the grain--let's ignore the made-for-TV fluff like the Monkees and David Cassidy, shall we? But as a whole, rock was a movement as much as music.

Somewhere along the way, that got lost. You can point fingers at whomever or whatever you want: the record industry, multi-platinum records like Frampton Comes Alive, the general public. It doesn't really matter. Rock became watered down and fractured, splintered off into punk, new wave, hair metal, rap rock, whatever. You need a map to keep track.

But Mama Zeus is a rock band. Not rock that's as disposable as leftovers, not some hybrid or mind-meld of beats and burdens coughed out in rhyme. It's guitars, grooves and a certain bit of mystery, the way it was originally intended to be. You can hear it in McCleary and Vantine's hopped-up and Hendrixed-out guitar lines. You can feel it in the basic rhythms drummer Vinnie Castaldo and bassist Dave St. John bang out, forcing you to move. You can see it in Sottile as she swaggers across the stage.

"It's just a natural, organic thing," Castaldo says. "Everything now is manufactured by some producer and put on the radio. It's an act. But people are starved for this stuff."

He may be right. In a world dominated by info bites and bits of binary code, people are hungry for something that seems honest and real, not just some digitally manipulated image. Why else would Lenny Kravitz still be selling millions of records, or the Black Crowes constantly be filling concert halls. Is there really any other way to explain the jamband phenom?


But the music industry doesn't see it that way. There are trends to be followed, teen girls between the ages of 12 and 15 to be marketed to. A rock band doesn't fit into that demo. They don't sell a million copies in the first week--no matter how cute they are.

And Sin City is just as caught up in the pop-culture current as anywhere else, just another "TRL" outpost on the way to LA. It's a town dominated by angry white men and kids looking to shake their groove thangs. 'N Sync sells out in seconds; dance clubs are constantly packed; dozens of bands sport seven-strings and vocalists who think grunting is enough. Mama Zeus' soulful vibe sticks out like George Lucas at a Star Trek convention. And that means that while other groups are spouting off about record-label showcases and lunches with entertainment lawyers, Mama Zeus is at the corner bar, chilling out, having a couple beers.

"Yeah, there's really no scene for us in Vegas," admits McCleary. "But ya know, Mama Zeus is comfortable in its own skin. If that means we're isolated from other bands in this town, we're comfortable with that."

"You have to respect the fact that they won't compromise what they do just to get some attention," says Inside Scarlet frontwoman Sharay Larsen. "They really believe in themselves and what they do, and that's something to be respected."

Yet Mama Zeus' unintentional isolation hasn't really stopped the band. Rather than travel in the normal club circles--The Boston Grill & Bar, The Junkyard or Sanctuary--Mama Zeus has made the Brit-pub Crown & Anchor its home, always drawing a hefty crowd. The quintet has opened for a string of nationals. They beat out a slew of other Vegas bands for the opening slot at last year's Junefest. And the group pulled off the ultimate coup two years ago, taking first prize in the DiscMaker's "Independent Music Series," a national talent search that had more than 500 groups competing for the top slot.

"We were totally shocked when that one happened," McCleary says, taking a pull off his beer. "We didn't think we had a chance, some little band from Vegas. But we went out to LA, totally unknown, nervous as hell, and somehow won."

It was a long road to get there. It all started nearly 10 years ago when Castaldo saw Sottile singing in a friend's bedroom. "I was just amazed at the tone just coming off the walls," Castaldo remembers.

It took him two years to call her up and offer her a slot in a new project he was putting together. Sottile had never been in a band before, but it didn't take her long to say yes. The two scooped up longtime friends Kyle Adoor (bass) and current Automatic Taxi Star guitarist Rich Hughes. Within a few months, the group's trademark candles and incense sticks had become a staple on Vegas stages.

But it didn't last long. In early '95 the band got sucker punched--twice. In one month Hughes opted out of the band and the group's equipment was stolen. It all came just as Mama Zeus was prepping to record its debut CD. The remaining three were left hanging, wondering what the hell to do. There was even talk of just ending it. But the band decided to search for a replacement. Mama Zeus spent six months looking for a new guitar player. By the winter of '95 Mama Zeus had two.

Vantine and McCleary had been playing in the classic rock cover band The Point for a few years together, while simultaneously dodging in and out of various other side projects. Nothing had ever really clicked. Again playing the talent scout, Castaldo bumped into Vantine at a gig, asking him to come try out. "He asked me if I played with another guy, and I said, 'Yeah.' I should've lied," Vantine jokes.



The duo came in, helped rework some material and wrote a gaggle of new songs. Fleshed out and re-energized, Mama Zeus decided to capitalize on its fit of creativity, laying down tracks whenever it could. The product: Inside #21, an aired-out set of smoky and soulful rock. But while the disc went over well with fans and critics, Castaldo says it didn't really fly with the band.

"When you hand out something that is supposed to represent your whole life, you don't want to hand it out with a whole bunch of excuses attached. That's not really a good thing," he says.

"It was a really rushed," McCleary adds. "We hadn't really played out much. We weren't really a band yet, and it sounds like it."

Mama Zeus made sure to take a different approach with its sophomore disc, Blue Soul Fire. By local standards, it took forever. Pre-production on the record began in the summer of '99, the band recording demo versions of most of its material at Castaldo's house. During that same time, Castaldo was slowly building his own recording studio, Zeus Media, with friend Larry Brewer, amassing enough equipment to launch a space shuttle.

By spring of this year the band began methodically laying down tracks, while simultaneously working in former Lenny Kravitz bassist Tony Breit. (Adoor stepped down for personal reasons.) The limitless time let the group try anything it wanted, tweaking and re-tweaking every note.

"When you have free reign, you can try whatever you want," McCleary says. "But you can take the joke too far. Sometimes it's good to have some pressure to get things done. If we didn't really push ourselves, we could still be recording now."

But Blue Soul Fire was worth the wait. Like the incense Mama Zeus is so fond of, the disc comes off sweet and natural at first whiff, but underneath burns something more sexy and mysterious. "Let's just call it tasty rock," Castaldo jokes. Thing is, that's exactly what it is. Steeped in the bluesy riffs of the Stones, Zeppelin and the Allman Brothers, Blue Soul Fire is a powerful hit of rock at it's most basic, ignoring high-minding philosophizing and going straight for the gut. The groove gets under your skin. You can't help but be pulled along.

Example: "Nightbloom." Who cares if the song is supposed to be about the band and how it can make it all seem fine? When Sottile moans, "everything we need tonight is right here in this room," damn it, you want that to be the truth. The song could make Lurch feel sexy.

The rest of the album isn't much different. The band swings between sugar-coated pop songs ("Oceanside") and ballsy cuts Stevie Ray would be proud of ("Blue Light"). Tracks like "Somehow" and "Promise" have all the passion of a first kiss. And "Lullabye"--you can see the sea of lighters flickering. There are no gimmicks, no wizardry, just pure rock 'n' roll.

"You've got to appreciate what Mama Zeus does," says local troubadour Mark Huff. "You don't hear flat out rock songs like that much anymore, and they do it great."

Enough said.

...Don't come a knockin'

Castaldo comes out of the bathroom looking a little concerned. "I think there's a mouse in the wall in there," he says flatly. As soon as the words come out, the race is on to the punchline.

Someone busts out, "Mouse attack!" Nothing.

St. John tries, "There's a mouse in the house." Not good enough.

McCleary chims in: "Let's rock that mouse!"

Everyone breaks into fits of laughter. It lasts for a few minutes, like the mouse has suddenly become the team mascot--or at least the team's inside joke. McCleary even has to giggle his way through his solo. But after a quick cover of Lenny Kravitz' "My Love," the mouse doesn't make another peep for the rest of the night.

A good groove

Nicole Sottile, Vinnie CastaldoThe members of Mama Zeus are scattered around a few booths and tables at a little bar off Eastern. The worst of '70s disco is thumping out of the speakers. "Argh, this music is killing me," Sottile says. "I wish they'd just shut it off."

The group is talking about its hopes for a record--a management deal, maybe more--and what happens if nothing really ever comes its way: The band keeps playing. They touch on how they've all been friends for years--new bassist Dave St. John even knew Sottile in junior high--and why that makes the band so special.

Then things switch to the state of music and what went wrong. "All I wanna know is when did the DJ become a part of the band?" McCleary asks. "What does he really do?" No one has the answer. It's the last thing anyone would even think about.

But it leads to a debate about what rock 'n' roll means to them. Between pulls of Heineken, words like honest, true and natural come up. That special something about the Beatles gets mentioned. Same goes for the Stones. "Rock can really be anything from Zeppelin to Macy Gray," Sottile says. "It all has a certain flavor to it, but it's still rock."

"To me the Sex Pistols sound like rock now," McCleary adds.

"Rock implies that you have two guitars, a singers that wails and a rhythm section that just grooves," St. John says. "And there's never a wrong time for a good groove. Not now, not ever."

For Mama Zeus' sake, let's hope he's right.


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CityLife

December 3, 1998

Music News

We are the Champions!

Mama Zeus pulls in top honors at DiscMakers' nationwide 'Independent Music Series'
How 'bout it for Mama Zeus! Last week the Vegas band went down to the Troubadour in , L.A. and, to put it in simple terms, kicked ass. As reported two weeks ago, (Music News, Nov.19), the groove rockers went to Lala land to compete in the finals of the DiscMakers' nationwide "Independent Music Series." As one of the six bands selected from an entry field of over 500, Mama Zeus was vying for more than $30,000 of music gear and recording studio time.

"It was exciting, " says Nicole Sottile lead singer and lyricist. "The place was packed. All the bands were really good and I was totally shocked when they announced us the winner. It really made us feel good, sort of an affirmation of the hard work we've been putting into this."

The big win for MZ puts them in a high-profile position for some good old music biz networking. "We're hoping that this will be a stepping stone. Maybe it'll give us more credibility with out of town people."

As long as MZ keeps doing what they've been doing, rocking the house at each and every gig with the sophisticated grooves of their distinctive bluesy-rock sound, the buzz will grow. The follow-up to their debut release Inside #21 is now in pre-production and promises to be among the most anticipated local releases of next year. In the meantime, say congrats when you see mama walkin' down the street.

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Las Vegas Weekly

July 15-21, 1998

Sound

by Geoff Carter

Universal Mother

Mama Zeus surrounds me, flopping down on the mismatched sofas and chairs brought into their rehearsal space to give the industrial room some character. Guitarists Charlie Vantine and William McCleary sit to my left, bassist Kyle Adoor and drummer Vinnie Castaldo sprawl to my right. Vocalist Nicole Sottile , the group's focal point by virtue of a smoldering look that beggars poster-sizing (and they will reach that plateau) sits facing me directly. "What were you doing before I got here half an hour late?" I ask.
"We were working on some new material," says Sottile. "Vinnie had some riffs that caught my fancy, and he was just showing them to the guitar players."

"You guys always rehearse this way?" The room is completely lit by candles, scented by incense. "We do everything this way," says Castaldo. Mama Zeus probably doesn't think of itself as a soul outfit. After all, their roots are deep in rock and roll, specifically the rock and roll of the late sixties: the candles, the incense, the flowing locks, the power chords supple enough to carry passengers.

They've assimilated (and modernized) so much Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin and Jefferson Airplane that they've become their own Woodstock- a scrapbook of tried and true, arranged backward and sideways into a striking groove-rock collage."It's only going to happen once this century," says Castaldo. "All those great bands of the sixties and seventies. That's why we're doing this." "How many Zeppelin records do you own?" I ask. "All of them," says Sottile.
"You want a bootleg? Name a year, " says Castaldo.
The soul is there. No matter what you make of Mama Zeus right off, whether you focus on Vantine and McCleary's dueling leads or Sottile's deep-hearted vocals, the soul is what stays with you. Close your eyes and listen the right way and it becomes clear.

Impromptu for Dat and Vox

Mama Zeus' independently produced debut, Inside #21, is a raw diamond.
From the tough guitars that announce "Prayer for You" to Sottile's heartfelt delivery of "If Only" to the sly psychedelia of the title track (the sexy spin Sottile gives the question "Where's my Mary Jane?" damn near compels you to hunt some up), there's so much shiny stuff here that it blinds you to the flaws in the production. Castaldo has high hopes for a studio he's built inside an upstairs room in his home. "We're going to do some work with Guy Marshall; he does music for Baywatch," says Castaldo. "He's going to add some production touches to tracks we've got laid down already; it's kind of a look and see kind of deal. We're excited that somebody that successful is interested enough to spend a week working with us for nothing."

As excited as Castaldo is about Marshall, the band seems content enough to have a space to create a sound free of compromise. Proof of this optimism comes during Castaldo's birthday party, when he offers to play some new instrumental tracks for me. Sottile follows us into the booth, and accords a rare treat: while the band's wall of sound roars from the speakers, crisp and brilliant, Sottile sings the vocals live, closing her eyes to peer into the grooves and pull the soul from them.

Phoenix

"There was a lull," says Sottile of the group's reincarnation, deliberately understating the severe end of Mama Zeus version one. Less than a month after guitarist and chief songwriter Rich Hughes decided to leave the group, the band's instruments and gear were stolen from their previous rehearsal space, the "#21" of the album's title."We were ready to throw in the towel," says Sottile.
"I did throw in the towel," Adoor interjects."Yeah, but he came back around," Sottile grins. "After he heard Bill and Chuck." Vantine and McCleary bumped into Castaldo at Mad Dogs and Englishmen Pub, where the percussionist was playing with Beatles tribute group The Fab. Originally Vantine auditioned alone, but his long standing friendship with McCleary made Mama Zeus a twin guitar band in short order. "We're both lead guitar players," says Vantine. "It's natural; we just shift the spotlight."

"Do you wanna hear something funny?" asks Sottile. "Just after I tried to talk Rich into coming back I went to Cost Plus for some wine, and I picked up some fortune cookies.
"I opened one up and it said ' Behind every able man are other able men.' I was crying and I said maybe that means we'll get two guitar players.""I saved that fortune," she adds . "Call me fuckin' weird or superstitious, but I save those things."

Hot Mama

The band freely admits that a good part of their appeal stems from the comely, wavy- haired sex symbol that anchors the group. But let's put Vinnie aside for a moment."I think the latest one I heard was Mama Juggs," I inform Sottile. "God ," she moans. "It really pisses me off ," deadpans Adoor. "My body's better, my legs are nicer..." "Better tits for sure," Sottile chimes in. "I'll say this forever: we're a band. I'm like one of the guys, not treated specially or differently. Without the band, I couldn't be doing this, and they couldn't do what they do without me. We're equals."

Night of the Living

To appreciate Mama Zeus, you really have to see them perform. And to see them completely and utterly in their element, see them surrounded by the deadhead memorabilia at Legends. They play equally stellar gigs at other local venues, but jamming under the many images of Jerry, they seem completely and utterly at home. True to their word, they bring candles and incense to every gig, suffusing the room with imported comfort. Sottile kicks off her shoes and performs barefoot. It's a curious thing, especially for a scene that could be called almost anything but conscientious- but Mama Zeus' homey vibe really works. More often than not, the crowd gets in phase with the band almost immediately. The process may be accelerated by Sottile's plan to serve champagne at every gig. "It worked so well at the album release party," she says, grinning. Candlelight notwithstanding, Mama Zeus has weathered it's share of tough crowds. "Some of the audiences are pretty bad," says McCleary. "This town isn't very supportive of local music." "They watch it like TV," says Vantine. ''Not exactly hostile, but some nights they've been like zombies calling for brains," says Sottile. "Playing Legends is always cool. But other times I've felt like,'Show me'." "We're playing to please ourselves, rather than thinking about what everyone else is going to make of our sound," says Castaldo. "Not concentrating on that sure sound that's going to get us a deal.
"Although we'd love to get one."
"It's hard to tell what the sure-bet sound is anymore," says McCleary.
"It changes every ten minutes." "We know there are people out there who are into our sound," says Sottile firmly. "We just have to reach them. If it ever comes time to quit, yeah, I think we'll know it, but we're hanging in there."

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CityLife Magazine

Arts

April 16, 1998

Mama knows best

With a business head and hippie heart, Mama Zeus climbs the mountain

By Andrew Kiraly

Breaking between songs at their east side practice pad Monday night, the members of Mama Zeus pull at their beers as they ponder a question put to them: Just what's with the dimmed lights? The candles? The Incense? After a round of patter about mood and ambience and comfort, drummer Vinnie Castaldo speaks up. "We're just trying to create a big blanket of vibe." It sets everybody off. Waves of laughter and teasing ensue, and "Blanket of Vibe, a running joke that will last the whole week. Blanket of Vibe-an alternate band name. Blanket of Vibe-title for the next album. Ten minutes doesn't go by without someone making some Blanket of Vibe crack.

Sure, loose-slung blues-rock band Mama Zeus has hippie trappings, all right- dreads and Gonesh sticks, tie-dye banners and flared pants- but it's telling the way they gently take the Blanket of Vibe to task. It shows these five musicians know the difference between talk and walk, where hippie gets dippy and hustle begins. In that respect the members of Mama Zeus are a cache of dual personalities. In the same breath that they're talking about the v-word they'll launch into some detailed crit of such-and-such bar's sound system, or mull over the band's sticky place in the Vegas music market.

And don't be misled by the chill-out accessories of candles and incense that adorn their gigs as well as their practice pad, either. Beneath Mama Zeus' plush hippie schtick is a no-nonsense kernel of professional savvy. For instance, you're more likely to see singer and unofficial manager Nicole Sottile stapling band posters at cafes than hanging around at a drum circle- in fact, band duties leave her only enough time to work a part-time job. "Someone's got to take care of all this band business,"she says. "Most of my time is spent plotting and scheming and networking, soliciting our stuff as much as we can. We want to do this right." It's just that combination of business head and hippie heart that might take this band to higher ground.

As of now, Mama Zeus ranks as Vegas' best-and yet most underrated-bands. They're not writing predigested three-minute pop songs. They don't have a horn section. They don't sport chain wallets. They didn't even make the cut for EAT'M. Still Mama Zeus excels at spacious, soaring, jam-crammed blues/rock-hardly the current craze, but it sure deserves to be. "It's tough being this kind of band in Vegas," says Castaldo. "We can't exactly play with ska bands. It's tough finding a compatible scene."

Different flavor

"They've never been into the flavor-of-the-week kind of trip," says singer/songwriter Mark Huff. "They're just honest players. Music is their trade and they'll do it whether they're popular this week or not. That's the best thing about Mama Zeus: They know what it's all about." That's not to say the band -like any other-wouldn't jump at a label deal. Sure they would. The difference, band members say, is they're not about to pitch overboard their quiver of quirks that the commercial music machine might consider handicaps. For instance, one has to wonder what commercial radio would say to MZ's yen for leisurely musical exploration.

It's as if in many songs-like their bar blues afterburner "Lover..." or the liquid languor of "If Only"-the band want to stretch out and enjoy the aural space it's created. "I love the band, but I wonder where they fit in in terms of selling their music," says Rudy Jalio, owner of Legends, a frequent Zeus spot. "The kind of music they play- Black Crowes, Led Zeppelin-influenced stuff- I mean, where can you sell that?" It's an issue the band is more than familiar with, and while they don't consider "radio friendly" a dirty word, some members express a decidedly different take on success than that of your average starving musician. "I'd rather build a fan base through touring than suddenly being splashed all over MTV,"says guitarist Charlie Vantine. "That kind of thing is so fleeting." Adds bass player Kyle Adoor: "In many ways, sudden fame-MTV-all that- would be the kiss of death."

"We have high hopes for this CD," says Sottile. "We've put a lot of time and sweat and faith into making it, but we're not going to curl up and die it it doesn't get a good reception." Anything but. Despite the lack of venues, the stubborn reign of alt-rock and ska, and a near-death experience for the band when founding member Rich Hughes left almost three years ago, Mama Zeus more than manages. Now with two new guitarists, Vantine and Bill McCleary, and a first album, Inside #21, under its belt, Mama Zeus might just end up hurling a few thunderbolts at the music scene.

In the meantime, stuck in a city where they feel like misfits, Mama Zeus makes Legends its Mount Olympus. "It just seems to have less of an attitude quotient that other places," Sottile explains. "People who go there really go to hear the music." Versus, say, drool over and ogle Sottile. Indeed, another would-be handicap is the band's curious pigeonhole. In rock circles Mama Zeus is widely known as "the band with that fine chick singer." The is well aware of the label. Sottile rolls her eyes when the issue is brought up. "We're not some titty band. But if (my appearance) helps get the band noticed, fine," she says. "Above all, though, we're a band. I don't get any special treatment. Trust me. The guys are just as mean and cruel to me as they are to each other. The music is what matters." And the music should matter: It's damn good. Mama Zeus plies generous, wide-load blues-rock replete with small-scale jams. Sottile's vocals- fine-grained and gentle, frequently husky with conviction- float warm and freeformish against the rest of the band's solid banner of sound. "It's honest. That's how I would describe it," says Castaldo. "We play from our hearts."

Unfurling The backstage area is a gaggle of guitar and drum cases, bodies and chairs. Fresh off the stage at the Boston Grill & Bar Saturday night, Mama Zeus is packing up. It was a strong set, with the band folding in a few covers- including its souped- up take on the Dead's "Scarlet Begonias" with a roster of originals. McCleary and Vantine see-sawed on solo duties, their guitar lines embroidering Sottile's sandy voice, which hit some fairly rousing highs. Yet the band is dissatisfied. "It wasn't the greatest set," Sottile says. The others nod. It leads into a conversation about the rush of playing live. Not just any rush, but that rush -than rock 'n' roll high that results when the band and crowd fall into some sort of spiritual sync, and bank members feel not like they're playing instruments, but rather that they are instruments being played by some other force.

"It happens more often than not, that feeling where everybody's into it, everybody's digging it," says guitarist Vantine. "But tonight felt kind of like a dud." "It's that transcendent feeling," adds Sottile. "It sounds corny but it is true. We usually get it at least once at every show." But they say tonight they missed the mark. Still, there are others who apparently didn't think so. Earlier, during the simmering chunk-a-dunk of "Mystery," a longhair at the bar was suddenly roused from the glowing video screen before him. He came alive as if the song was thawing him out. His neck loosened and his head began to bob. A smile crept across his face, as if Mama Zeus -like a concerned mother- was playing that song especially for him. What's funny is that before the song, Sottile had said, "Unfurl the blanket!" So what if she was kidding. Mama Zeus wrapped the whole room it that thing. CL

Dubbed the "Mother of all Concerts" Legends Lounge 2nd Anniversary celebration was another smashing success for the intimate live music venue in the northeast part of town. Explained owner Rudy Jalio," We usually try to have live music. Saturday nights we stick to the Dead format as much as possible. Tonight we're trying to bring together bands that cross over a bit. On Friday nights, we usually do other types of music, be it alternative, blues, metal or reggae or whatever. Mama Zeus is more of a Friday night band here for us, but I really like their groove and I think their fans would like Mother Hips and vice versa. So i thought I 'd give it a shot for our little party here tonight and call it 'The Mother of all Concerts.'"

Mama Zeus took the Psychedelic Tye-Dye Stage at around 10:40 and played a solid 1 hour set of mostly original material. Fronted by a captivating and very talented female vocalist, MZ moved fluently through a number of musical stylings that are primarily rooted in blues but extend in many directions from there. The guitar players alternated riffs as the bass and drums worked well together to lay down the variety of grooves that kept the entire set interesting.

Although most of the tunes were originals, MZ pulled out a very cool version of "Lovelight" with a slower, infectious groove that put smiles on the faces of the Deadheads that mistakenly thought they were only there to see Mother Hips.

Although "Lovelight " was cool, "Scarlet Begonias" as the next to last song of the set totally blew the room away! Perhaps because it was completely unexpected, or maybe because MZ played the song so well, but in any case, MZ totally won me and the rest of the crowd over. Hoy Hoy!

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Mama Zeus, a relatively new local band with a hype about 50 feet tall, has a demo tape out which indeed lives up to all the buzz.

This bunch dips into the retro bag and comes up with a handful of funk/rock/mild psychedelic tunes that belie the band's age.

That is to say their music is older than they are. For instance, listening to the tape, you'd think the lead songstress was a veteran lounge singer, as her vocals smolder with a controlled, understated, almost husky sensuality, as opposed to the booming passion usually associated with them crazy young'uns.

Tunes to check out on this keeper include Mona Lisa, an amicable number with a cool, refracted funk twang riding throughout, while Hedge's clipped and wary guitar line complements the subtle but husky lead singing well.

The flip side of the tape features live tuneage recorded at Fremont Street Reggae and Blues; this side's standout is Free Me, a slinky song generously wrapped in some bluesy, Hendrixesque chord slinging.

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Mama Zeus was up next, which was a hell of a change after Tippy Elvis. I always enjoy Mama Zeus, and they've tightened up considerably since I saw them open up for Sponge. Whoever was in charge of the sound mix at Fremont Street did a great job, because every instrument and Nicole's vocals sounded crystal clear.

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I was pleasantly surprised to see local band Mama Zeus take the stage, because of the excellent show the band put on at Fremont Street the previous night. This was a younger crowd, and I was unsure how the band's laid back vibe would go over. A few songs into it, the crowd was digging the band, dancing and swaying to the beat. "Too Close to the Sun" was my personal favorite, and "Haight Street Blues" allowed singer Nicole to let loose , something I wish she'd do more often; she has the pipes for it. Good backing from the band, especially in the strapless guitar department. Deft Handling of the hormone fueled hecklers down front by Nicole. Check out Mama Zeus at Fremont March 2. In all, the evening was a lot of fun, and I attribute that to Mama Zeus and Compulsion, because as is often the case, the opening bands try a lot harder.

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Week of December 31,1998

Albums of the Year

Lee Abraham's Picks:

10. Mama Zeus - Inside #21

Inside #21 is the best album to be released from a Las Vegas band in quite some time. From the aggressive guitar riffs of the opener, "Prayer for You," to the moody rocker "Never An Answer," Mama Zeus has a sophisticated, multi-layered sound that oozes creative urgency and projects a healthy dose of rock-n-roll attitude. Each song showcases the band's wide-ranging dynamics, sometimes building intensity toward a raging jam, other times backing off to mellower spaces. The result is a musical tension within each song and a solid album from start to finish. Mama Z has raised the standard for original music from the Neon City with Inside #21 and that's a good thing.

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Las Vegas Weekly
September 30-October 6
by Todd Peterson

Roll Tape

The last year was a busy one for Mama Zeus. Now in the studio, the band is prepping for the next battle

"We've had a really good run of luck for the past nine months or so," says Nicole Sottile, vocalist and part-time guitarist of Mama Zeus. That's not typical Vegas luck; it's probably not even luck at all. This 3 1/2 year old composite-rock band is one group that makes things happen for themselves.
Amid the crowd chatter at Crown & Anchor-one of the group's favorite places to play-they relate the impressive events that have befallen them recently: winner of the Southwest Independent Music World Series in Los Angeles last November; an opening slot for the sold out Robin Trower show at the Joint last March; launching the House of Blues as an opener for Nazareth, also last March; a prime showcase spot at this year's EAT'M festival with coverage by KVBC Channel 3; winner of Junefest's Battle of the Bands and a subsequent opening slot for the summer concert. And those are only the highlights.
The accompanying responsibilities might be enough to bury a lesser band. It's only the beginning for Mama Zeus, who have just finished pre-production for their second, as- yet -untitled album (due out January 2000).
You only need to look back to the group's initial effort, Inside #21 say the members, to see how far the group has come. When they began laying down tracks for that album, says guitarist Bill McCleary, "we hadn't even gelled as a band."
At the time the band had one live show under it's belt and had been together about three months. "We had two originals when we first went into the studio," recalls Sottile.
McCleary remembers writing songs out and then immediately recording them. "All the songs on the first record we'd never even played live,"he says.
The only reason they'd decided to record at that point was to have something tangible. "We wanted to get the band rolling,"says McCleary.
Now, with its second album, Mama Zeus is primed for more than just a record of the group's historical development.
"With this next record it's going to be something that we're going to feel a lot more comfortable handing out and shopping," says Sottile. "It's going to be a fair representation of what we sound like. The first one, by the time we were done with it, we didn't even sound like that anymore."
Side by side, McCleary declares, the two albums will be like "day and night." It's a bold statement for a record not yet completed. The money constraints of studio time, scheduling conflicts and the like can be cost prohibitive. Mama Zeus anticipated this. Drummer Vinny Castaldo who, with bassist Kyle Adoor, first joined Sottile in Mama Zeus, has built a studio in his house. "We've been buying all kinds of gear that we need to make a really quality recording. " Sottile explains.
With the in-house studio, the group has been able to complete a pre-production test run through the entire album. "Basically we recorded the record once," explains Castaldo. "Now we have to re-record it." The dry run was a luxury most unsigned acts aren't able to afford. The mindset behind the first take was to reach as clean and agreeable a point with each sing as they possibly could. Unlike Inside #21, the songs on the forthcoming release will consist of tunes the band has been plying for the past year plus. "These songs," Castaldo adds, "are tried and true."
Not to take away from Inside #21. On the strength of that recording the band was selected to compete in the Southwest Independent Music World Series-a contest Sottile says she entered on a whim. But if it was the power of album that got the band there, it was the onstage performance which sealed it's victory. "You could actually feel us winning the room over," says McCleary.
That's no surprise to Mama Zeus. That they haven't been playing out as much as they usually do is a bit frustrating, says McCleary. Although the band has been sneaking in gigs here and there, it's not like the usual schedule which, during the past summer included as many as four shows a month. "We shine onstage more than anywhere else," Sottile says.
Which isn't to say they aren't going to give it all they've got on the new record. The band has used some of its $30,000 World Series prize to outfit the new 24 track studio with vintage recording gear they believe will better capture its live sound. In keeping with the vintage gear, they've decided to record the album in analog as opposed to modern digital method. By going analog, says the band, they can get the rich, rock sound they produce on stage. And, with a studio at their disposal, Mama Zeus figures to keep trying with each song until they nail it perfectly.
Still says guitarist Charlie Vantine, "There's always one person who isn't happy with their performance. You kind of have to go with the majority, otherwise you'll be in [the studio] forever."
McCleary agrees. Everyone, he says, has their own version of what they think the song should sound like. "But that's the beauty of it, " adds Sottile. "Compromise." LVW