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.
The Wrens packed the upstairs stage at midnight on a Sunday and the crowd was still there when I left. The live show had an edge like a broken knife blade.
Howling at the glistening orb of life, reveling in Dionysian abandon, his clothes started falling off his body, revealing a glistening chest, tight and hard.
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.”
La Gritona are one of Boston’s few good bands, easily levitating over the usual indie swill and three-chord power-pop pablum. Too bad this was their last show.