One hell of a drummer and loud, loud, slap bass. The music was a direct contrast to the singer’s voice, which was ex-sques-ite-ly sweet, melodious and flowery.
All eyes turned to the tiny stage for the pumping, post-punkers and fists flew into the air to join the “oi, oi, oi, oi” refrain of their favorite Blitz cover.
The bassist, Bean lived up to his name, jumping all around the stage, but always arriving back at the mic just in the nick of time to chip in his harmonies.
Starting with “Copsucker,” a fast-paced ditty highlighted by Joan Wasser’s maniacal screaming, the band mixed material from the new album with old faves.
Chris Dyas, his pockets filled with facial expressions barely contained beneath a ball cap. Slightly self-deprecating and sarcastic, sadly cynical and smirky.
There’s a six-foot-two guru sitting in a chair knocking his bony knees together in rhythm, thumb-picking real Delta-style blues on an old Silvertone guitar.