Show of the Month

Bang Camaro / The Everyday Visuals / Bleu
/ The Rudds

The Paradise Rock Club
Boston, MA
June 16, 2006

By the time Bang Camaro took the stage at the cavernous Paradise Rock Club, it was already hard to move around. The crowd filled the floor and the multiple levels to the rear and sides of the club like a horde of bloodthirsty Romans at weekend gladiator battles. The Romans were geared up, and reacted with lustful excitement to the sounds of each initial guitar tweak or sound-making adjustment. The Bang Camaro stage set-up was slightly different than the norm; the five members of the group arranged across the very front of the stage in a straight line, three guitarists and a bassist flanking a drummer. No member of the band had a microphone, for reasons that were about to be revealed.

The lights went down, and the Camaro roared to life. The first tune was a plodding, harmonized-guitar pounder that seemed to start where the second half of Metallica’s instrumental “Orion” left off. As the overture continued, Bang Camaro’s lead vocalist bounded up onto the stage. This took longer than might be expected, as the “lead vocalist” is actually a choir of no less than 15 beer-swilling, fist-pumping dudes. Some of the singers wore sunglasses, some cowboy hats. One had donned a spaghetti-strap tank-top, and another appeared to be well over seven feet tall. All of them came toting beers, which they alternately swigged, shotgunned, toasted, and spat up into the air in a mist, HHH-style. The influx of vocalists introduced a new energy to the room, if that were possible. While the Bang Camaro vocal situation might appear to be drunk guys shouting, the shouting actually consists of multi-part harmony over the electric liquid fire of Alex Necochea’s guitar shred-fest and the ribcage-vibrating thump of Dave Riley’s drum kit. Incredibly, the group onstage actually grew for the final song, as a mixture of Bleu’s Get Up Choir and members from other bands on the night’s bill clamored up for the final fist-pumping, guitar-raising anthem of the set.

The second set, courtesy of the Everyday Visuals, featured a different kind of energy. The garish, seizure-inducing rock lighting of Bang Camaro gave way to a deep glow that bathed lead vocalist Eli Scheer in colors as rich as the Visuals’ sound. The stage was awash with colors both visual and aural as the band’s heady mechanical pulse worked its way through the crowd. A palpable air of confidence emanated from the band, reflected in each member’s poise onstage and self-assured musical performance. A band’s drummer is an unlikely focal point, but the Visuals’ Joe Seiders was the most animated member of the group, thrashing nonstop around the drum kit and shattering the stained-glassy aura that occasionally took over the set. Seiders and bassist Chris Zembower kept the rhythm tight, even in more upbeat songs such as the standout “Tiger Suit,” or the rollicking “Seven.” As was to be the custom for this night, the band was joined by the Get Up Choir, now in Everyday Visuals t-shirts for a big finish to the set.

At this point, the Get Up Choir had appeared twice, and Bleu had not. This was about to change as the wild-haired, mutton-chopped vocalist emerged onstage. The crowd, which belonged mostly to Bleu, roared its approval at his appearance, and he seemed equally appreciative of the reception. While he looks a lot like a (skinny) version of Wolverine, Bleu pierced the audience not with adamantium steel claws, but with impressive vocals. Although the vocal effects were slightly harsh at times, it was clear that Bleu himself is a human pre-amp with a voice as thick and strong as his trapezoidal sideburns. The set ran mostly to the power-pop side, but Bleu also exhibited tendencies towards other genres, calling a group of people known as “the Bootie Bunch” to the stage for a disco-throwback tune. A strong doo-wop vibe also permeated many points in the set, while Bleu’s vocals were replete with big notes, falsettos, and any other type of vocal set-piece imaginable. The audience hooted and whistled in response. Bleu’s band consisted of members of almost every other band featured that evening, at times employing saxophone, multiple guitars, and eventually, of course, the Get Up Choir (decked out in their blue Bleu shirts), ready to belt out their namesake song. The set really picked up steam in the second half, culminating in a Motown-esque series of songs as the choir rocked Bleu off for the night.

“I tried to grow sideburns like Bleu,” Jon Powhida, lead singer for the final band, the Rudds, remarked.

While Powhida’s sideburns weren’t up to Bleu-standards, his vocal performance, as usual, was. Guitarist Brett Rosenberg rocked out in his own way to the left of Powhida, strutting around with his duct-taped Strat, making it talk in songs like “Stand a Chance” and “Roslindale.” Dave Lieb really let loose on the piano with a two-handed assault on his keyboard. His masterful solos looked like an attempt to slap the keys as fast and hard as possible, yet somehow he hit the perfect notes every time. The lanky Powhida, resplendent in pinstripes and purple-streaked hair, hammed it up at the center of the stage, opening his eyes and mouth wide for the big notes, punctuating hits with Woos!, and doing almost as much expressive work with his hands as his voice.

Almost everyone who had performed over the course of the night, including both choirs and musicians, came onstage for the grand finale, a show-stopping performance of Prince’s “Purple Rain.” The tune was led by Powhida, who was flanked not only by members of the Rudds, but also Bang Camaro, the Everyday Visuals, and Bleu. The stage looked like the end of a Saturday Night Live episode, complete with G.E. Smith-style guitar work and rock-out faces from Rosenberg and Bang Camaro’s Alex Necochea. The finale was a fitting end for this all-star bill of veterans and rookies alike.

Review by C.D. Di Guardia
Photo by Marianne Bolduc

www.bangcamaro.com
www.theeverydayvisuals.com

www.bleutopia.com
www.therudds.net

Battleship Ireland / Kelsey Bennett of Pucker

The Abbey (Pub Stage)
Boston, MA
May 27, 2006

The Abbey Pub Stage is small. It’s small to the point that the performer onstage need not even use the microphone to talk to the crowd in between songs, and those sitting close enough can hear a guitarist’s pick on strings just about as clearly as an amplified guitar. Three men lined themselves up on the small stage next to the Simpsons pinball machine. The band, Battleship Ireland, sounded as nautically Celtic as the name implies.

The slow, two-hit bump of the bass and drums rhythm section played out strongly under the jangle of Chris Dowling’s guitar and vocals. The set ran mostly to the acoustic side. A Fender Stratocaster sat to the right of the stage, not to be used until the final song. The slowly swaying, sneaker-rock sea-shanties of Battleship Ireland pleased the crowd for the most part, although the tempo did seem to wander noticeably at certain points in the short set. Pleasing harmonies and strong melodies in the group’s vocals produced the strongest part of its sound.

Pucker, or more specifically, Kelsey Bennett of Pucker, played next. For the moment, Kelsey Bennett is Pucker, and she is a show unto herself while remaining refreshingly down-to-earth both in her performance as well as her onstage manner. The demure songstress kept her eyes fixed to the ground while she played and talked, except for a few pointed looks outward. Then Bennett’s tastefully made-up eyes would glare out from behind the microphone, causing more than a few hearts to miss a beat. Her entire set was a macrocosm of her endearing voice — a breathy and sugary one apt to instantaneously explode into a sweetly barbaric yawp. Her figure onstage was that of energetic comfort — when she twitched, it meant she was having fun.

Bennett’s facial expressions also told the story of each song. Early in the set, “Break-Up Song” showed that she is able to charmingly bat her lashes with one lyric, and sing the second with a sneer. Bennett was also apt to spit out words like she hated them, sometimes for dramatic effect, sometimes totally at random. Conversely, she chose to wrap herself around other words, sinuously drawing out the word “water,” as if it was her favorite one in the entire English language.

Although she played seated, Bennett displayed an amazing amount of energy, bobbling her flip-flop furiously to the beat of each song and writhing around in the stool like she wanted nothing more than to stand up, kick it over, and turn the Marshall she was plugged into all the way up to rawk-out!, before finally letting her audience go. Strings scattered every which way from the head of her acoustic guitar, catching the light that was refracted off her Monroe piercing and shiny eye shadow. A performer able to utterly freak out and then offer a hearty chuckle when she loses her pick onstage is certainly a special one, and the Abbey Lounge was treated to such a singular performance when Kelsey Bennett took the stage.

Words and photo by C.D. Di Guardia

www.battleshipireland.com
www.puckerpage.com

Duresse / Age Rings / Say Hi to Your Mom

TT the Bear’s
Cambridge, MA
May 27, 2006

On nights when kids are hanging around outside the multiple venues along Massachusetts Ave. in Cambridge, TT the Bear’s still knows how to pack in a crowd on a three-band night.

Duresse, a three-piece band, kicked off the night, and featured nice vocal harmonies between guitarist Ricky Brennan and drummer Derek Dutra. A solidly thumping beat permeated most of the songs in the set, providing a backing to Brennan’s Edge-inspired guitar work. Brennan’s wide voice cut a swath out of the triangle of sound, planted in the driver’s seat of Duresse’s mid-range, hooky rock style. Duresse also lived up to its endurance-inspiring name with some very long songs, each tune serving as a new morning to the darkness of the latter one’s end. Although most of Duresse’s songs seemed to come from a sleepy, soft-focus world, each of them possessed strong undercurrents of melody and rock. The final song really set the proverbial hook in the ears and hearts of the audience, creating a sound that was more lucid — more “here” — and the audience responded in kind.

It is an unspoken law that the huge ensemble group always follows the small group. Following this credo, Age Rings actually engulfed the stage, to the point where Duresse probably wouldn’t have had to leave, if not to make room for the six members of Age Rings, led on by sandy-haired Ted Billings and his highly scrawled-upon guitar. A semi super-group of sorts, Age Rings contains many ingredients, members past and present, of local favorites such as Slater and the Sharking, Big D and the Kids Table, and Drexel. The sound of the majority of Age Rings’ songs is that of highly-textured pop. The Rings began the set with “Everything Will Fall Apart,” a song which tested the low and high limits of Billings’ smoky voice. This vocal roller coaster also caused fits for the soundman, who managed to turn up the vocal channel so as to make the low-register vocals audible when the band turned it up an octave. At times, Billings made the “Uh oh, I can’t hear myself” face, but to his credit the lines did not waver one bit. A great thing about the live Age Rings sound is that it is not just a large group of guys with a music store’s worth of gear onstage; rather, it is a group playing songs and listening to the sound at the same time, constantly making minute adjustments. The band is so large that Age Rings is an electric show, an acoustic show, and a sound check — all at the same time.

Billings throws himself into every performance. His voice rises from a conspiratorial whisper to a plaintive yell, sprawled over the danceable rhythms created by the small orchestra behind him, with multi-instrumentalists Emeen Zarookian and Marc Flynn at times pulling quadruple duty on synthesizers, acoustic guitars, percussion, and brass instruments.

Rounding out the night was another three-piece outfit, the smartly titled “Say Hi to Your Mom.” With a name like this, most would expect an attitudinal set of smarm and petulance. Instead, the group closed out the evening with a set of smart and peppy rock. Singer and guitarist Eric Elbogen appeared onstage in a full knee-to-ankle cast, an injury that he claimed to have sustained while “saving some kittens from alligators.” While he seemed slightly down about needing to play the set from a seated position (with crutches leaning up against a speaker), he worked it as hard as a half-immobile musician can, ferociously stomping his good leg in beat to the music and moving his upper body around as much as possible. Despite his efforts, however, the group was missing some of the attitude implied by its name. Given the hobbled status of the frontman, the focus shifted to the energetic work of the group’s drummer, who seemed to be working extra hard on this particular night. Say Hi to Your Mom performed a good set of locked-in rock, replete with swelling dynamics and smart lyricism, and the evening’s crowd responded in kind.

Words and photo by C.D. Di Guardia

www.sayhitoyourmom.com
www.duresse.com

Ross Niblock / Joe Cardillo / Mepos / Mark Nelson

Skybar
Somerville, MA
June 16, 2006

Ross Niblock, who plays bass in the Boston-based band Cardinal Direction, kicked off the night with a solo acoustic performance. His band, which has toured with the likes of Dispatch and Virginia Coalition, consists of an all-acoustic sound — a sort of toned down version of OAR. For the most part, the crowd was reminiscent of an OAR audience, hooting and hollering for more of the poppy John Mayer-esque tunes that, for some reason, have remained popular with the college crowd. Niblock’s performance was fair enough, as he proficiently strummed his guitar and churned out catchy lyrics. Though his chord progressions and voice mimicked the typical singer/songwriter a bit too closely, Niblock, to his credit, played a stirring rendition of Simon & Garfunkel’s “America.” By set’s end, his fans were chanting “one more song,” but he was subsequently booed offstage when he couldn’t oblige the crowd’s enthusiastic request.

Joe Cardillo, also a member of Cardinal Direction, was the next to perform. He began with a percussive beat made by thumping his guitar, and a resounding bass line produced through a foot pedal. After looping the beat, Joe played the requisite chords on his acoustic. It would have been easy to right off Cardillo as just another Howie Day knockoff until he finally delivered with his forte: the saxophone. He had three of them set up to the side of the stage, though he played his tenor sax for most of the set. Often with the use of a wah pedal, Joe ripped through each solo, masterfully maneuvering his fingers to work the rods, keys, and pads in the image of a well-oiled machine.

After Cardillo’s stirring rendition of Dispatch’s “Here We Go,” Niblock joined his bandmate onstage for a short duo. Cardillo continued to loop, and his soulful sax solo was especially impressive with Niblock providing supporting guitar and vocals.

Mepos, a Providence quartet formed in 2004, was the third band to play. The crowd seemed ready to receive these Boston newcomers, as many made their way closer to the stage and eagerly awaited the band’s first licks. Mepos began with “Welcome to the Donkey Show,” an obscure cover from the band Raq. Lead guitarist Matt Kavanagh launched into an extended jam of intricate builds and raucous soloing, though it would have been more effective with the guitar volume turned up and the drums toned down a bit. Still, drummer Mario Cacciola provided a steady beat throughout, smashing away at the skins, while Nate Beauvais pounded out a groovy bass line with animated facial expressions to match.

Mepos’ eclectic selection of covers included “The Power of Love,” by Huey Lewis and the News, as well as popular Dead anthem, “I Know You Rider.” For “The Power of Love,” Joe Cardillo joined the band onstage and continued to impress with his excellent sax play. The highlight was a duel between lead guitar and saxophone, as Kavanagh chopped away at his Washburn HB-30TS and Cardillo followed suit on the tenor sax. “Rider” featured sound musicianship on everyone’s part, as well as effective vocal harmonizing for the chorus. On many of the songs, however, the band would do better to feature a solitary lead vocalist with a louder and more expressive voice, if only to create a more recognizable sound and an established frontman.

Mepos originals included “Time Takes No Holiday,” a mellow yet upbeat tune that prominently featured Beauvais on vocals, as well as “Tragic Overbite,” a comical tribute to those who lack the necessary dental correction “to have a fox be with me.” “Overbite” highlighted keyboardist Pat Kavanagh, the most recent addition to Mepos, with his erratic key slapping representing a distinct and almost Medeski-like style of play, while the song itself showcased a fresh funk element within the band’s repertoire.

The final performer was Mark Nelson, whose set, though a reversion to the typical singer/songwriter genre, was actually quite engaging. He came off as a guy with a don’t-care attitude, raring and ready to play in his worn-out workboots and Tenacious D T-shirt, regardless of how thin the crowd had become by that point. Solid guitar play and distinctive vocals indicated musical ability, as well as the potential to develop his sound into one he can call all his own.

Words and Photo by Brian Mickelson

www.cardinaldirection.com
www.meposmusic.com

666 Funeral Celebration

Mad Man Films / Stu Walker

Zuzu
Cambridge, MA
June 6, 2006

Nick Zampiello, in full Stu Walker regalia, stood at the door to Zuzu like some weird funeral director, welcoming the crowd/mourners into the club. The reason for the Funeral Celebration — this was June 6, 2006, AKA 6/6/6 — a date the Stu Walker band would be hard-pressed to resist.

Like any good funeral, there was a wake beforehand, courtesy of the Brooklyn/Allston band Mad Man Films, which came dressed in what must have been military funeral wear, complete with captain’s hats. The three-piece band paid its respects to the world with an arching set that, in terms of intensity and volume, progressed naturally. The band’s semi-anachronisticapproach eulogized centuries of American music, starting with what almost seemed like a hymnal, ramping onward throughout the set. The set progressed forward from Tin Pan Alley, through the swing clubs, the harmonies of the late 1900s, and right up to the powerful slam of today’s most modern rock. This was not some costume or gimmick show; rather, it was the unique sound of Mad Man Films.

Singer and guitarist George Lewis stood front and center with a somber look on his face, though it did not last. Capable of outstanding feats of noise from his guitar, Lewis saturated thered-tinted air with all kinds of stringy squawks and demonic howls of feedback, crooning and roaring and repeatedly losing his hat due to an intensely expressive performance. The entire band played in lock-step, with thunderous bass and drum hits punctuating many phrases, and all three members singing in full three-part harmony on more than one occasion. The entire set was permeated with an air of heavy swing that gurgled with fuzz and shook the pictures on the walls of the small club, which was by this point very full.

As Mad Man Films cleared the stage, the members of Stu Walker began setting up their toys for the main event. The group’s ominous keyboardist played funeral dirges on the organ as Nick Zampiello (aka Stu Walker) and Michelle Morgan (aka Ethyl Bourbon) appeared in full flagrant diabolico. Walker’s bright red shirt glowed fiendishly from under his black suit, and Bourbon’s tasteful black funeral dress suited the gravity of the moment.

“No smiling,” she admonished to an overly-cheery patron in her best haunted mansion hostess voice, “This is a mass.”

The throng of people within Zuzu seemed to far exceed its posted limits; the place positively brimmed with black-suited revelers. Stu Walker sat at the bar as his band attempted to get the backing tracks working.

“It’s a wonder they haven’t kicked me out of here already,” he mused, grabbing his drink and bounding back to help the other band members figure out their technical maladies. And the funereal organ droned on and on over the chatter of the crowd.

After a short interlude, the band began its set. Exceptionally hyped for the 6/6/6 set, the band bathed in a sinister red glow at once amplified by an ambulance that had parked directly behind the glass window to the rear of the stage. The downward circulation of the main riff to “Theft Arson Murder Vice and Death” was particularly malevolent this evening, threatening to bring the entire club down to the surf-lounge in Hell. Zuzu doesn’t have a “stage,” per se, but that didn’t matter on an evening when Zampiello had the microphone. Zampiello trod all over Zuzu, leaving footprints on almost every horizontal surface steady enough to handle his weight. At one point, he was out in the crowd with a tambourine, hip-checking Adam Glasseye in rhythm, and at another, he was up on a table, throwing the goat with his skinny fingers to the crowd. Zampiello even ascended to the bartop at one point, strutting and bumping his head on the fancy paper lanterns while kicking over drinks for which he never failed to apologize. The band, urged on by the demonstrations of the strong-voiced Morgan, played on and played hard.

For his part, Zampiello didn’t command the non-existent stage, he commanded the entire club. It seemed as if he made some kind of physical contact with every person crammed in for the show that night.

Words by C.D. Di Guardia
Photo by Marianne Bolduc

www.mmfmusic.com
www.stu-walker.com

Patterns / The Northwood / The Minus Scale / Human Flight Committee / Forgive Durden / Southcott

Epping American Legion
Epping, NH
June 16, 2006

In a surprising move, Patterns began its portion of a six-part show with a mellow acoustic set, though the band usually plays full electric. The two guitarists sat relaxed and dawning sandals, while the drummer sat between the two of them playing tambourine. For most of the set, the two guitarists sang together. Rarely missing the right note, their tight harmonies helped to lift a simple acoustic sound one step higher. The words, though not very clear, were sung with emotion and passion. With intricate instrumental interludes between each vocal verse and refrain, it was interesting to hear a bit of country influence in a set that would be labeled by many as “acoustic emo.”

The second band up was The Northwood, a six-piece ensemble from Boston with clear pop/punk influences. Instrumentally, the band was always together, but was a bit off vocally. The lyrics were barely audible, perhaps because the singer was flailing around while trying to sound off, though the lead guitarist stole the show with his flawless licks. The Northwood also played a jazzy pop/punk song reminiscent of Mae’s “Tisbury Lane,” which stood apart from the rest of the set, prompting those in the crowd tap their feet and bob their heads.

The Minus Scale, a five-piece band from NH, played next, displaying a prominently emo sound with likely influences from The Early November and The Get Up Kids. The set was high-energy and catchy, spurring the mostly young and shy audience to move a little. The vocals were clear, and the lyrics could be heard well above the thrashing electric guitar and blaring synthesizer. By the end of the set, the band was dripping sweat, as were many in the audience.

Next on the schedule was the band that much of the crowd came to see, The Human Flight Committee. The lead singer’s first move was to shut the blinds behind him, so that the venue became completely dark. The first song started as noise and synthesizer with tribal drums in the background, and the intro’s eerie rising sound built up anticipation for what was to come; an incredibly energetic and flawless set. The guitarist managed to make his one guitar consistently sound like two, intricately layering rhythm over lead lines. Throwing himself around wildly, the bassist came as close to the audience as he could without actually touching the crowd. The singer moved around spastically, but was always clear. He also played the synthesizer and wielded maracas during HFC’s well-known song, “Five Second Saga,” which many in the audience sang along to. At the end of the set, the drummer gave one last smash on his snare before throwing his drums off the platform in a final act of total catharsis.

All the way from Seattle, Forgive Durden proved to be a big crowd pleaser. While the band got tuned and ready between each song, the crowd was treated to interludes from television and movies, one of which was the death scene of Mercutio from the modern-day version of the film Romeo and Juliet. The band had a sound similar to that of Fallout Boy, but with an original flair, bringing mandolin and full-band drumming to its unique sound. The singer came off as being highly influenced by the Killers, but still managed to make an overt, sass-core sound into something of his own, singing notes that strayed out of his high range.

Southcott, a pop/punk band from New York, concluded the event. But by the time Southcott took the stage, many of the Human Flight Committee fans and Forgive Durden followers had left, leaving the so-called headliner with a much smaller audience. Interestingly, there seemed to be no dominant frontman. The four-piece band had a bassist and two guitarists, all singing individual parts, or two and three-part harmonies together. The words were surprisingly clear through all of this vocal switching, but unlike the bands before, Southcott had only mediocre energy. The band also lagged in precision, making a few noticeable mistakes throughout the set.

Words and Photo by Mike Anderson

www.thenorthwoodmusic.com
www.theminusscale.com
www.humanflightcommittee.com
www.forgivedurden.com
www.southcottrocks.com

Tunnel of Love / Diamond Mines /
Red Invasion / Wild Zero

The Lily-Pad
Cambridge, MA
June 17, 2006

The Lily-Pad, a quaint venue infamous for getting shut down by the cops after the first band’s third song, had a loud but eclectic mix of Boston acts on this particular night. The audience was just as diverse; metal heads, young punks, old punks, and curious music fans with open minds filled the room.

Wild Zero was first, and offered a deafening brand of rock that straddles the line between hard-edged punk and heavy metal. Never sacrificing speed, the masculine riffs and fist-pounding choruses are hard rock at its best. Most of the band members appropriately wore horror movie T-shirts, as their songs would scare just about anybody who doesn’t play their music at maximum volume. Despite the fresh tattoo on his hand, drummer Jesse Von Kenmore charged ahead, fiercely banging away in song after song of angry adrenaline. In short, it’s the kind of music a Motorhead fan would want to blast after finding out his ‘87 pick-up had been towed.

The next band, Red Invasion, was a blast from 1977; a loud-and-fast rock ‘n’ roll outfit that took its cues right from the New York punk explosion. The band’s catchy tunes would have been right at home at CBGBs, and is the kind of music that is too rarely heard nowadays. They sound like Johnny Thunders on speed (instead of heroin), with Stiv Bators on lead vocals. And rather than being slower and somewhat muddy like the Dead Boys, Red Invasion plays with a youthful energy that harkens back to the days of Chuck Berry. The two-minute blasts of pop/punk were really the treat of the night. This was also the band’s last all-ages show for the summer, before going into the studio to record its second album.

The Diamond Mines was the third band of the night, and slowed things down after two roller coaster-speed sets. Not to say that the Mines was mellow, but rather played twitchy pop songs that would be right at home in the first generation of new wave. The band’s offbeat love songs are for those who are tired of hearing singers insult authority and condone drugs and alcohol, but still want the same level of youthful energy and fun (thinking man’s punk, in other words). Instead of the group’s usual saxophonist, the lineup featured a keyboardist for this particular show, whose playing added rather than detracted, a feat that is difficult to do in a rock ‘n’ roll band. The keyboard timing was perfect, recalling the subtle melodies and atmospheres created by Jerry Harrison decades ago. At one point, the crowded room got so hot, the lead singer nearly passed out, knocking over the ride cymbal. These weren’t feigned stage antics to try to shock the crowd; it was a brief but frightening moment in the middle of an impressively energetic live set. In short, The Diamond Mines was everything modern alternative rock should be, but so rarely is.

Tunnel of Love, the night’s headliner, began literally seconds after The Diamond Mines had finished. Band members had set up their equipment in the middle of the room behind the audience, probably in the hopes of surprising the audience. The crowd spun around to see three shirtless men with shoulder-length hair, black gym shorts, and black-and-white striped tights. The only instruments were drums - wrapped, along with the amp, in white Christmas lights - as well as a guitar. The lead singer howled into his microphone, like a deeply troubled Iggy Pop walking into spectators in a daze. It was clear from the start that Tunnel of Love was not, and hasn’t been, primarily about the music, but rather the performance as a whole. The music consisted merely of rudimentary riffs and primitive garage rock drum pounding, but the stage show was enough to hold the crowd’s attention on this night. The three would find the line of comfort and cross it, just enough to make everybody in the room blissfully uncomfortable. When the set was done, the lead singer left the microphone hanging off the amp, prompting deafening feedback to drown out all other sounds in the room. The three of them then stormed out, leaving everyone else to clasp their ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the insufferable and unanticipated encore.

Words and Photos by Matt Stepanski

www.tunneloflove666.com
www.thediamondmines.net
www.redinvasion.com
www.myspace.com/wildzero