Tod A immediately launched into “Bourbon and Division,” a dark cha cha (no, really) which pulsed and throbbed under the hands of this wedding band gone bad.
With three drummers, Incus is totally about rhythm. The crowd begins moving. Banging on the sculpture, Neubauten clangs chase each other though the club.
David Yow is a pillar among purveyors of destruction and bad taste, and the Jesus Lizard rumbles and squeals like the hot water boiler just before it blows.
The Roman Empire could rise and fall between notes, and the songs are couched in a placid, glacial atmosphere. If sleep produced an actual sound, it’d be this.
So there I stood, uninvolved, as I watched SNFU go through the motions of retching up a sorry-Johnny-one-note performance. I don’t like them in a club either.
Cake hop from the rockabilly stylings of “Stickshifts and Safetybelts” to the more driving rhythms/almost hip hop stylings of their hit, “The Distance.”
They interspersed new and old songs evenly. Much sweat, lovely harmonies, and powerful guitar-driven melodies capable of swooning even your dead grandmother.
For a good time, catch a Suicide Machines show ASAP. For a better time, wait a few years. They poured out a high energy rock show, five seconds at a time.
They ran through their Goth dirge classics in a blur of lights, smoke, and seductive vocals. Steele’s voice, while soothing and tranquil, was making me sleepy.
They mixed up some cocktail tunes with a psychedelic guitar groove, poured velvety vocals over upright bass, adding a dash of David Byrne experimentation.
He was quite an accomplished screamer. The music seemed like the typical chugging metalcore, but it never got boring because of the numerous tempo changes.
Scissorfight’s singer looks like a ZZ Top pickup-truck-driving hick with his straw hat and long beard. After hearing his demonic growls, I wouldn’t want to ask.
Their set consisted of selections from each release (plus Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire,” which was dedicated “to the ladies… let it burn, motherfucker!”).
You can’t say she doesn’t have diverse musical interests. Violet lights swirled as she launched into “Purple Rain.” Yes, by Prince. On a friggin’ organ.