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On this particular night, my nose is sniffing out Portland's great unsung heroes, Kieskagato. Incidentally, the band isn't even actually from this city; originally from Wisconsin (where they'd been known as Room 101, until some research uncovered that Room 101 is the musical equivalent to John Smith), the group collectively moved westward to escape a scene full of cover bands and venues that "kept burning down." While its name might still be lurking in the shadows of Portland's scene, the group is winning over fans at clubs and venues all the time.

Hot on the trail of this scent, it doesn't take too much wandering the streets before the telltale sign of a band - a large van - points me towards a garage. It quickly becomes apparent that this is the right spot.

Dave Jorgensen (Rhodes organ, trumpet) is drinking a tall boy of Miller High Life when he introduces himself and welcomes me back to meet the rest of the crew. He goes inside to fetch a beer for me while Adam Schultz (bass, trumpet) talks to me from the ground. He has his bike flipped and is trying to reattach a chain that fell off on the way over. Bryan Fairfield (drums, percussion) is outside too, helping Josh Vasby (guitar, vocals, trumpet) look for his dog, which has gotten itself lost somewhere down the block.

It isn't until the sun has nearly set that the commotion dies down and everyone goes inside. The living room is average enough in size, with a piano and a medium sized television making themselves cozy just in front of a hand drawn likeness of Thom Yorke which hangs on the wall.

Sitting in a half circle, they talk a bit about their new, independently released EP. "Actually, it was kind of like [our old label] Iconic Rocket wanted us to put out a thing but they didn't want to put out new material," explains Jorgensen.

Schultz adds, "We wanted to put something out but we weren't ready to put out a new album. So, we took some of the songs that we weren't comfortable playing live because they weren't...done. We knew "Well Then, All Right" was a good song but it wasn't done right. So, we worked on that and made it so much better that we wanted to record it. Same with "See You At the Meeting" and we weren't comfortable with it, and we worked it to a point where we were comfortable with it, and we thought, "Wow, this is really good," and that's what we did for all the songs."

Although the earlier workings of the songs on the EPs were a bit rough, "on the record they sounded all right because Larry [Crane] did an awesome job engineering. But, as far as the live thing, there were a lot of tricks.

"I think that's what happened with the whole thing. 'What are all the songs that we like and what do we like to play? What are we uncomfortable playing live? Let's fix all that.' And in fixing all that, I think we just ended up writing better songs."

The result is five songs, some from the group's full length You, Are The One, Who Can and some from their earlier days as a band in Wisconsin, giving them a fresh but familiar feel. The music retains its same feel but the band is also far more confident with the outcome here. Jorgensen explains, "Well, another big thing was trying to figure out all these songs that we had recorded as a five piece into a four piece." Schultz's brother, who had originally played in the band, has departed the group since the original recording due to differences. "So we would go to the basement, go over parts over and over, building layers. We had this skeleton we would work. We're a little more dependent on each other [as a four piece]."

Some melodies were simplified to carry the same feeling and similar sound but now are less demanding to perform all at once. This is crucial because the band members will often go so far as to play their primary instrument and trumpet at the same time while on stage.

The cover of EP, as it is simply titled, is the schematic for of a building, which seems to reflect the reworking of the music. A similar image is on the T-shirt Vasby is wearing for Room 101, the band's original moniker. "It's something that we had for the t-shirts and we just wanted to do something more with it cause we liked it," says Jorgensen.

"It's my roommate, actually," says Vasby, "In the basement, she has this screen printing thing and we just figured out how to buy everything really cheaply, kinda do something simple."

"It stood out. We thought about other bands that are doing well, that we want to emulate, like the Menomena record. The packaging stood out to everyone and it made such a great difference in the way that the music is listened to by people. We were kinda trying to follow this idea of it being homemade and not just a jewel case," Jorgensen adds.

Hearing the name of one of Portland's more popular indie acts sparks an immediate curiosity. After all, Kieskagato has been in Portland for a few years now and it begs the question of just how well are they doing since the group moved.

"Well, I'd say, when I lived in Madison, I didn't know these guys at all and I was playing in bands. I was making a lot of money, playing horn section and stuff. I was playing reggae; I was playing Bob Marley covers...stuff like that. We'd go to a show and a band would make $800 to $1000 for playing for three hours straight. And that was the bread and butter of Madison's music scene. And, here, I don't care who you are, you'd be lucky to walk out of there with a couple hundred bucks and it would be packed. There's a tremendous amount of competition here," says Jorgensen.

Schultz continues; he sounds like he's thought about this topic before. "It kinda seems like the Portland scene is fairly honest. But it's also 50 percent trend. Like, if you're really good, they'll say you're good. If you're in between... it depends."

"It's what you're told who's cool and who's not, that's kinda how I see it here," Fairfield says. "Like, for instance, on Menomena, I heard about them because of hype. There's this band that's really good and they're like this, and all you hear after that is great things about them. And I saw them and I thought they were good. But I think there's a lot of bands that...it's kinda like who's cool and who's not. It's hard to open anyone up. They want to be told what's cool and what's not."

The band's reception, it seems, has been mixed. Fairfield muses, "You know what, it's weird, we've been getting a lot of online reviews as of lately, and they've all been really good and positive, and confidence boosting, but as far as Portland goes-" Schultz finishes for him, "Portland kinda seems like a giant high school," the band laughs, half jokingly and half in agreement. "If you've got a clique, and you mesh with that clique, you're totally in." He stops a moment. "Unless you're there, unless you've peaked...they really don't care about progression."

Actually, despite the good reviews the band has received, it seems as though it has trouble winning over journalists. "We've been greeted with hostility for the past couple of years," comments Jorgensen. "Yeah, it's been hard to win them over," adds Fairfield.

Schultz is quick to point out, "Not with the audiences, though; just press. Which is so frustrating because audiences love it. We've had different reviews from lots of people and some people get it and like it, and some people are like, "They sound like Radiohead and they suck."  It's like this broken record of reviews over and over." Fairfield nods, "We've had a hard time trying to side with the press."

"Look at what [the press] like," Schultz begins. "They like two piece, one piece, three piece bands that are just belting how much they hate doing homework and how badly they want their girlfriend to either go away or come back. Just really straight forward, really emotional. Like..."

He pauses. "Bright Eyes. I fucking hate Bright Eyes. It's fine you didn't make the basketball team, grow up. There's more to life than basketball and Bob Dylan but that's what they like! They can connect with it. But as soon as they can't connect with it right off the bat...Well, what's great is that when people come to these shows, they like it. What's frustrating is the Willamette [Weekly] and the [Portland] Mercury people won't come to the shows."

Given that, it's easy to understand the band's frustration. The group is certainly far more deserving of recognition. During a sneak peak inside the small, cozy room which functions as a practice spot, it's easy to see how well these four work together. Amidst sparse pieces of foam and egg crate, which line the walls and ceilings, the band's practice session is powerful but casual. Given the tightness of the band, it's not hard to imagine an audience of concert goers and journalists alike enjoying themselves.

The road to success is never an easy one for a band, though, and five years after moving to Portland, this one is still on the move. Kieskagato may still need to find their big break but, as long as Bright Eyes is around, Portland will have a need for them as well.

Dan Parascale- OMG