By: Bob Longmore
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Paul Spranger of Hockey Night - Photo by Bob Longmore
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Dressed in a ruffly blouse and a green skirt that would be perfect for St. Patrick’s Day, Gay Beast singer and keyboardist Dan Luedtke punctuated his band’s spazzy-synth-punk songs with high-pitched, barked vocals. The band, which included drummer Angela Gerend and guitarist Isaac Roto, frequently veered off into weird rhythmic freak-outs. With Gerend staring intensely at Luedtke, they somehow managed to stay tight throughout the twists and turns of their songs. Sometimes arrhythmic and seemingly disjointed, and just when it seemed they couldn’t possibly bring a spaced-out punk jam home, they stepped back from the edge of a complete sonic breakdown. Honestly, I don’t know if I quite get what they are doing, but in a way, that is what I like about them: they challenge the listener. I think my friend standing next to me said it best, when he remarked, “I’m glad somebody is doing this.”
If Gay Beast were an explosion, The Vets were a flickering flame. Hindered by all kinds of equipment problems – including an amp damaged in the journey to the Turf – The Vets finally took the stage after most of the momentum of the previous band had dissipated. After a proggy guitar prologue with staccato shouts by frontman Andy Larson, The Vets train broke down once again. “I think we’re gonna’ need to borrow a snare drum now,” said Larson. Unfortunately, the band spent more time tuning and repairing than they did actually playing. They managed to squeeze in a handful of songs before exiting the stage, and Larson quipped, “You’ll hear from us again when we don’t break all of our equipment.”
At this point in the evening, there was a steady stream of people coming through the front door to join an already packed house. Eventually the doorman had to start turning people away.
Hockey Night have a big as fuck sound, with their dual-drummers providing unstoppable propulsion to their wall of guitar noise. The lead singer, Paul Spranger, had spastic fits of movement that seemed to come randomly and force his wiry frame into convulsive gyrations. Hockey Night’s frantic energy caused anybody within five feet of the stage to break a sweat. The vocals are sweet and the music is Pavement-esqe with a touch of southern rock, and I swear I heard a little Thin Lizzy classic rock in there somewhere, too. At one point I wrote the word “swooping” in my notebook, and I think that I was trying to convey the feeling I got from their live show. They sound like a rock band should sound – the way that you want your favorite bands to sound live – and the perfection that comes with years of playing together and knowing which way to push and pull the melodies came through crystal clear.
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Malachi Constant - Photo by David de Young
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Before the insanity of Malachi Constant filled the room, the Shim Sham Shufflers performed a short dance routine. Dressed in white baby-doll dresses with red polka dot hearts, the trio tapped and strutted on the small Turf Club stage. It was both cheesy and quite entertaining.
In the moments before Malachi Constant started playing, the energy in the club was anxious and excited, and there was a palpable buzz. The band introduced themselves with "Blueshammer," off their newest album and reason for the release party, Pride.
If there is one word that can describe Malachi Constant, it is “arty.” The guitars are textural, and the interplay between guitarists Carl Wedoff and Ben Hecker creates angular, jagged riffs. Bassist Sean Harrison and drummer Nick Shuminsky are the drivers that keep Malachi Constant’s wheels moving forward, while Wedoff and Hecker create a swirl of color above the rhythm. It is impossible not to get caught up in this sonic whirlwind, and once you are caught, it can be an exhausting, weird, experience.
“You guys are my friends,” said Wedoff, as balloons, streamers and silly string started flying from every
direction. Wedoff and Harrison literally bounced off each other like bumper cars, and at points in the evening, it seems that the two ran the risk of becoming one tangled mass of guitar strings and sweat.
Things only got weirder once Wedoff donned a cardboard pirate mask, and then smashed the chocolate candy filled piñata with what looked like a Miller Lite model Stratocaster. The pace of their show was furious; things were a blur until Harrison forced a break between songs to tune. Wedoff defended the stoppage by saying, “Sometimes you can play too well and the instruments can’t keep up with you.”
By the time the lights came up at 2 a.m. the Turf Club looked spent. Candy, pint glasses, Red Bull cans, spilled beer, balloon carcasses, spent streamers, mounds of silly string and sweat turned the stage into a sea of debris. The explosive display of Malachi Constant had manifested itself in a physical form.
Location Info:
The Turf Club
Artist Info: Gay Beast, Hockey Night, Malachi Constant, The Vets
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