By: Bob Longmore
Maybe it was just me, but the incredibly tight and powerful Story of the Sea played with confidence and style that I don’t remember seeing before. I reviewed them back in March and I thought they had great depth for a three-piece; this time their songs sounded even more powerful playing to a full Turf Club on a Saturday night. Drummer Ian Prince always impresses me with his bombastic style, but on this night, I noticed bassist John McEwen’s intricate yet not overbearing playing. Along with singer Adam Prince, all the members are exquisite musicians that know how to write complicated yet accessible songs.
Alpha Consumer drummer J.T. Bates smiled almost maniacally as he set up some sort of inflatable surprise in the middle of the stage. I could sense the excitement and playfulness that was to come. In addition to the crumpled pink surprise, the band brought in streamers and special lights. A paper mache Alpha Consumer mascot that looked a little like a mid-life crisis Napster logo, only drunk and grinning, hung above the drum set between two walls of amps. (The band later christened the mascot Gary Victorsen.) The band also employed a smoke machine, which at times obscured the entire stage and left a lingering cloud that reminded me of the pre-smoking ban days, only without the stench.
Against this backdrop, the band began with “I Know, I Know,” which alternated between an upbeat indie-rock song and a droning noise rock jam punctuated by eruptions from Bates’ drum set, which actually fit perfectly the smoke filled, prop-laden stage. Singer and guitarist Jeremy Ylvisaker bent his lanky frame over and swung his guitar above his shoe tops, twitching with every chord change.
Probably because the three members of Alpha Consumer play or have played in countless bands around the Twin Cities, they easily and without hesitation were able to switch musical styles. They started indie-rock, went shoegazer, then went into pretty British pop, threw in some '80s metal and then brought it back to some blatant punk rock like on “I Need to Make A Lot Of Money Fast.” The song inspired a guy in a superman shirt to appear from nowhere to try out a solo rag-doll-mosh dance through the entire front third of the bar and then disappear just as fast. This seemed to happen a couple times during the set, where people would just appear, shake their bodies for a minute, and then disappear again.
Remarking that there was no good place in the set to play this song, the band launched into an extended sludgy and impossibly drawn out version of “Crimson and Clover,” which even in their sporadic stylistic set list seemed to come from out of left field. Or maybe out of the clouds. As white lights shone from the floor behind Ylvisaker and bassist Michael Lewis, a thick layer of smoke enveloped their lower torso so all the audience could see were silhouettes of the two singers rising up from the mist. The song was really good, but bordering on hilarious as well. Almost comically slow, it was close to a Spinal Tap moment; I was expecting a Stonehenge model to descend from the ceiling.
I think I began to understand, though. I sensed some satirical tongue-in-cheek sentiments from the band like the aforementioned “I Need to Make A Lot Of Money Fast,” “The Son of the CEO of The Rubber Suit Company” and “I Need A Gun,” which has the line:
I need a gun
to protect my other guns
kids with guns try to come and take my guns
I need a gun
to protect my other more expensive guns
And then I remembered the crumpled inflatable thing that laid in wait and I thought, yes, there is some sort of warped sense of humor here. It took Bates a few minutes to get the ornament properly inflated, but as Ylvisaker and Lewis created a symphony of feedback, the Siamese pink flamingos took shape. Why pink flamingos? I don’t know. Apparently, Bates just had the inflatable birds lying around and decided it would make a great encore for the band.
Indeed, the band left the stage for a good five minutes, leaving the giant pink centerpiece to shake sympathetically to the swirling feedback of the guitars. They eventually reappeared to close their set with a sweet lullaby called, “Don’t Forget To Dream.” As Ylvisaker and Lewis harmonized sweetly, one of the flamingos rested its head on Lewis’ shoulder. A precious goodbye.
Martin Dosh set up his nest of electronics and drums in the middle of the Turf Club floor, right next to the sound booth. He added some keyboard to Alpha Consumer’s last song and then segued seamlessly from that song into his own set. The patrons all slowly formed a circle around Dosh and it looked from the stage as if a kindergarten class had gathered around for story time. Dosh never gave the crowd time to catch their breath after Alpha Consumer; instead, he lured them in quickly with his looping one-man-band brand of entertainment. It felt intimate, and the change of sight lines was jarring; the Turf Club suddenly felt like a house party.
Photos: Adam Prince of Story of the Sea; Alpha Consumer. By David de Young.
Location Info:
The Turf Club
Artist Info: Alpha Consumer, Dosh, Story of the Sea
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