By Jon Adam Green.

Ask former Gravel Undertone frontman Sean Thompson how he came to play for Teddy and the Bears, and be met with a simple reply.

“It was only inevitable this would happen,” remarks the scruffy-faced, SG-wielding lead guitarist as he nurses a Miller High Life during a Friday afternoon practice session. “Me and Ryan (Ryan Ross, drummer) worked together and he’d always come in with these songs [...] Eventually it happened one day when I was like, ‘These are really good. What are you doing with these?’”

And the rest is history. Sort of. Actually, the quartet is looking forward to its debut performance at Atlanta’s Star Community Bar on November 27th, and is promoting the event with fervor.

“We’re real fun to hang out with. We give hugs and drink beer,” Thompson jokes. “We’re impregnating the world with our music.”

But the tomfoolery and knee-slapping end when the amps are turned up to eleven.

Being present during a Teddy and the Bears practice session reminds me of my first experience walking the streets in a foreign country: New sounds spill over from all directions with a subtlety such that if you focus on just one of them, you will be sure to lose it in an intricate, ever-shifting melody. It is also louder than you’re accustomed to, alien to the senses and slightly disorienting. But despite all this, you know that what you’re hearing is precise: that its current incarnation is the product of development from time immemorial.

What it all comes down to, according to drummer Ryan Ross, is “the energy between everybody. Just how it all naturally happened.”

That’s a pretty serious comment from a band with such unserious song titles as “Twosies,” “Squeedles,” and “That’s What She Said.”

“We love our beers, and we love hanging out,” explains Ross, not neglecting to mention how most of the time, “we’re sitting at home. Sitting, writing music all night.”

And it shows. When I arrive outside the practice space, I can already hear the band playing from the street. Although about fifty yards and several layers of sheetrock separate us, I can still pick out the hooks, and it’s clear to me from the very beginning that these guys are tight. The kind of tight that doesn’t need to be polished because it comes out just right on its own.

Heading down some stairs and into what used to be a small garage, I find four guys so gripped by the music they’re playing that my intrusion upon their quarters has completely escaped anyone’s notice. Enjoying my anonymity, I listen intently to the rolling bassline of “That’s What She Said” until it all breaks down into a melodic roar, complete with liberal bashing of crash symbols and righteous harmonies.

How exactly Teddy and the Bears’ sound fits into Atlanta’s music scene, however, is a difficult question for the band to answer. Then again, what musician enjoys pigeonholing his or her style into the previously-established, artistic norms of a particular city?

“It’s an up-and-coming music city,” says Hunter Lee (bassist). “There are a lot of places to play and a lot of bands to play with.”

Thompson agrees, though he laments how “people don’t just come see a band out of curiosity. People have to be convinced to come and see a band.”

And that’s just what these Bears have been doing. The “Are You Ready for Teddy” campaign is harnessing the assistance of Atlanta’s visual artists, not to mention other musicians, in an effort to convince the masses that this is no bear to shake a stick at.

“Jaynie Coffee at Door 44 has helped us out a lot,” notes Ross. “And Say Anything, they’ve been behind us, too.”

Also seeing potential in new media, particularly Facebook, the band has generated support and guaranteed good attendance at its first show through the nearly effortless process of sending out loads upon loads of electronic invitations. The benefits of having loyal friends and access to free advertising surely cannot be quantified, and most bands nowadays would be completely helpless without them.

But what is it that separates Teddy and the Bears from their peers? What exactly are these guys doing that no one else is trying right now?

“Wearing men’s pants,” jokes Lee.

“We’re completely different from anything you’ve ever heard,” adds guitarist and lead singer Jason Engel. “We want to take over the world. Or at least Atlanta.”

For more information, visit www.facebook.com/teddyandthebears.

What do fine French desserts, a Georgia Tech quarterback completing a pass, and a heavily-tattooed hardcore vocalist screaming at an enraptured crowd all have in common? Well, for starters, all are included in the photography portfolio of Josh D. Weiss, Creative Loafing readers’ pick for Atlanta’s Best Emerging Visual Artist of 2009.

“I’m not a specific type of photographer,” says the Atlanta freelancer, sitting down for a drink late Monday evening. “This coming Friday I’m shooting some production stills for a training video Foot Locker is making,” he says, detailing the diversity of subjects encountered during his sojourn into the photographic profession.

Though he claims there is no particular subject upon which he places the most attention, as a photojournalism student at the University of Georgia, Weiss often found himself trotting along the sidelines during SEC football showdowns, snapping away at all the monster plays and brutal hits.

“I’ve found I’m better at [shooting] sports than a lot of people,” says Weiss, quickly adding, “Most people aren’t able to do Division 1 sports on a weekly basis. I had access to that.”

Weiss has not always found it easy to access just any type of photographic work, however. After college, he began working for small local papers, first in Anniston, Alabama and later in the Atlanta suburbs, always at the mercy of editorial demands for footage of the local bake sale or arts and crafts fair. But when the economy sank last year, Weiss did what many consider the last thing anybody would do in the face of rising unemployment.

“I put in my resignation,” he says.

Anticipating the further decline of print media, Weiss risked his career on the assumption that as a young photographer with a smaller portfolio, he could take advantage of a market calling for photographers able to charge lower rates.

“For me it seemed like a good opportunity where if I could get out there, make contacts with people who are hard up financially and need people who could work for less, well, that was me at the time. I’m just getting started, and I know you’re hard up right now. It’s a good match.”

Then what about all the recognition received for making beautiful photographs? Is the artist now sacrificing the image for the sake of making a few bucks off a wedding shoot? Has it all become a business?

“It’s real competitive,” Weiss admits. November had been a notably slow month, he explains, “when out of nowhere I get a call from US Presswire saying hey will you come out and shoot the Georgia Tech-Duke game, and then the next day I get an email asking if I can do this thing for Foot Locker [...] A week ago, I really had no idea if I was going to be able to pay rent.” He adds, “You just never know.”

And having photographs you’re proud to present is integral to building relationships and turning your talents into a profit.

“Like how many times have you gone to a restaurant where they have photos of their food around the restaurant, and it just looks terrible?” asks Weiss. “And you say, ‘Do I really want to eat at this place?’

“Having a bad photo represent your product probably makes people not interested in your product,” he adds.

Okay, so why is Josh Weiss anything more than your ordinary birthday/bat mitzvah go-to-guy? Where do the profession and the artistry blur together?

“It’s all intermingled, I think,” allows Weiss.

Instead of predictable, often canned, journalistic people-photographs, Weiss presents his subjects in context. He does this through inclusion of as many visual elements necessary to create a composition worth a second, or third, glance from viewers. It is a method that is marketable precisely because it is pleasing to the eye.

“I just try to find ways to make the background accentuate the main subject,” reflects Weiss, calmly sipping at his drink, “and on top of that, tell a story.”

Josh Weiss’s portfolio is available at www.joshdweiss.com.

We also included some samples of his work here.

Click on the page numbers below photos to see the different samples.

Gatroy