By: Pat O'Brien
I have seen these bands before. Some of them I have seen multiple times. Maybe that's a bit irresponsible, since my job here is to expose myself to new music and tell people about it, but you can't deny the allure of these three bands, and one happened to be releasing an album on Friday. Plus, each brought something to the table I hadn't seen from them before, and therein lies the pleasure of seeing good music from familiar bands: it's the same, but different each time.
Bridge Club - Photo by Stacy Sandstrom
(click for full set)
Bridge Club's sound has evolved ever so slightly since the last time I saw them. They have grown darker, grittier. It's still Zeppelin-esque blues rock, but they have tossed some Dead Kennedys-like punk fury into the mix and they seem to be exorcising some serious, fire-breathing, poison-skinned demons. Rage emanated from the stage during their set. They drank Budweiser at a furious clip. Lead singer Joe Werner was polite in between songs, but positively ferocious during them, the words not so much spilling out, but being forcefully ejected from his throat as if letting them leave his body would allow him to continue breathing comfortably. I have said before that if Jet didn't exist, Bridge Club would be in their place, but not now. These three would eat Jet for breakfast, and I think I might mean that literally.
HowWasTheShow darlings (and everyone else's of late, it seems, too) The Alarmists played the tightest set I have seen them play to date. The thing that draws me to them over and over is the fact that I can't decide which song is my favorite. Sometimes I think it's “Soldados,” other times, “She Will Love Again (Hey Kid),” still others, it's “Good Advice.” Most of the time though, it's just the most excited I have been about (and for) and band in about three years. I can't say much more about them, only because I have said everything I can up to this point. They have a new album on the way in the coming months, titled, as of this writing, The Ghost and the Hired Gun, and the vaguely spaghetti western-like images that conjures are no accident. They are taking cues from less obvious places than late-'70s London and the Lower East Side of New York City, and it's serving them well. They were picked to click by City Pages last year, and virtually nothing can stop them from continuing forward.
The Alarmists - Photo by Stacy Sandstrom
(click for full set)
The first time I saw The Future play, they had an arsenal of weirdo, snippet-like, thundering songs. I remember one song had three guitar solos in it and was only about four minutes long. They were dressed for the 1985 high school prom and weren't being ironic, I don't think. The man, then named Steven Evil, had a rat-tail and definitely wasn't being ironic. There was something there, certainly, it just hadn't fully formed yet. That was almost a year ago. In the months since, they have morphed into what I can only describe as Nirvana-like, Iron Maiden indie-punk, and I'm not sure what that means. I know I really enjoy it, though. They weren't about to be upstaged, this was their show after all. They were unleashing Neon Black upon the populous, and damaging the hearing of everyone in their immediate vicinity inside the Entry.
They took the stage dressed in black and burgundy, and as the lights went down, what sounded like a final instrument check exploded into their first song, I looked around the room and people had big smiles on their faces; these guys are going to be something, I could hear it (sort of). Math Johnson's drum kit sounded like it might splinter into pieces and hurtle into the audience, or maybe they'd grab the pieces and assail the crowd themselves. Luckily, the kit stayed assembled and we didn't have to find out.
The Future - Photo by Stacy Sandstrom
(click for full set)
After a couple of songs they brought to the stage three women who will now be known as The Futurettes. They were also dressed in black and burgundy. One had moon boots on that looked like they had been pilfered from Napoleon Dynamite, while the other two looked like they had wandered in from the set of Straight to Hell. It was Phil Spector's worst nightmare. They each had their own microphone, but I'm almost positive I didn't hear them sing even once; they did dance quite a bit, however. I'm not exactly sure what the point was but I know one thing: it didn't feel gimmicky, even though it clearly was. They remained on stage for the remainder of the set, like backup dancers who had forgotten their routine. It was fun to watch as they became the calm(ish) eye in the middle of a guttural, violent hurricane. This must be what people thought of bands like KISS at first: “This is obviously a stage show...where do I buy a t-shirt again?” Only time will tell what lies ahead for The Future but it looks like it could shape up to be a good year and I'll go on record as forcefully rooting for them.
Location Info:
7th Street Entry
Artist Info: Bridge Club, The Alarmists, The Future
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