Dom, Heavy Hawaii, Melted Toys
March 30, 2011
@ Rickshaw Stop
Better than: The next thing Simon Cowell squeals over.
Whatever the zinc-eared Mr. Cowell would make of last night's triple bill at the Rickshaw Stop must thankfully remain unknowable. It's a cinch you'll never see this kind of hullaballoo on his upcoming hype-o-rama X Factor, as three bands of divergent styles slugged it out in a manner more reminiscent of some 1960s Eastmancolor sockhop from A.I.P. than the latest televised cattle call. The audience won, naturally.
didn't so much take the stage as fade onto it, unobtrusively plugging in and leaning into its heavy lidded pavement psych almost before anyone noticed. This set was shoegaze in the most literal sense, as the guitarists stole many a long glance downward while offloading sheets of dense chime reminiscent of Swervedriver stuck in second gear or Ride with one foot in the stirrup. A couple of hopefuls up front swayed a little, but soon gave it up and everyone stood around looking serious until the set ended and an appreciative whoop went up.
didn't dally in making themselves heard from. These doe-eyed kidlets claim San Diego as home on their MySpace page, and they're the first band I ever heard capture any part of that city's sunny avant-goofiness. There's something delightfully Jellyfishy in their melodic knack, and mainman Matt Bahamas goes heavy on the winsome. A beefy guy in front of me bellowed "I want to have your baby!" as things loosened into a cheery rough-house while the flapping flamingoes screening behind the band added a nicely surreal touch. "What movie do you think this is?" demanded Matt, and my own shouted guess of The Bad News Bears Go Dingo
sounded as plausible as any.
are critic's darlings, coasting on the buzz of their debut EP Sun Bronzed Greek Gods
, and this set saw them throw down like their celebrated homies in J. Geils Band, determined to give this dense pack of scenesters the works. It was all hustle and slam from the first, as shaggy Dominic and company made the crowd dance convulsively. The ambient temperature rose to sweatbox levels quickly enough, and layers of clothing began to peel and fling
to manically energetic, witty pop rock as hooky as the soundtrack to a year's worth of car commercials. Prince's "Little Red Corvette" was covered, and the band dealt its beefy anthem "Living in America." It was all over well before midnight, but no one looked disappointed.
The headliners were out in under a quarter hour, and the audience had swelled by then to close to a hundred. Out of Worcester, Massachusetts,
Overheard: Blonde girl to door guy: "I brought my banana as potassium
for tomorrow's hangover."
House special: The Big Dickel, which is GD, ginger ale, and bitters.
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