EBN’s brand of multimedia assault – combining video, audio, and all around spectacle – is far too much for the un-turned-on mind to assimilate all at once.
He had a penchant for doing “the stadium intro” (where he yells the name of the upcoming song hoping for applause of recognition) but nobody got into it.
Dylan is not a great performer. May I be struck with hundreds of voodoo pins, but Dylan has not progressed. He can write a good lyric, but that’s about it.
The lights lowered and a man crouched behind his mixing board and computers and cued the intro for Last Train to Lhasa. That’s when all hell broke loose.
The set was spotty, but their Velvet Underground sensibility meets ’90s power chord rock sounded pretty good by the end of the night (beer factor included).
The Gravel Pit had a good rock thing going, with great heavy bass. The singer has a powerful, somehow Dickie Barrett-esque yell that even worked on a ballad.
Thankfully, the guys in Poundcake had a little more of an edge to them. They were happy too, but they didn’t feel the need to smile at each other constantly.
They ran through most of their new album, Pile Up, and a lot of my earlier faves, such as “Rock ‘N’ Roll Queer Bar,” “Cocksucker Club,” and “James Bondage.”