Show date: December 8th, 2009
I forgot the motherfucking earplugs.
Look, Band of Skulls isn’t death metal or thrash. Just very approachable, straight ahead rock and fucking roll. The name is awful marketing. So what.
By means of introduction. Hit this review from June’s Lola’s Room show . And this review from the July Dante’s show. Giving you more when you only want one.
Band of Skulls. They are opening for Metric. It is one of those Christmas radio shows. Fa la la la.
Walking to the Crystal…it is freezing out here. Uh oh. Streets asking for tickets. Shit. Sold out? You’re fucking kidding me?
I engage in street commerce. My attempt at creating a scalper price war between two dudes is unsuccessful. The losing street scalper unleashes a string of profanity that truly takes the art form to new schizophrenic heights. Awesome. Maybe I’ll get shived too. Metric sold this out? Didn’t see that coming.
Bewildered, and choosing to believe instead that BoS sold out the Crystal, I get patted down. In at 7:55. Show starts 5 minutes on the nose at 8:00. Damnit. This is like a whirlwind. I’m not even beered up. I’m so straight, I could be an aid for Howard Hughes. You know, the ones he tapped for blood transfusions when he was feeling filthy. Or over-opiated. That must have been a weird interview. Why do you want to know my blood type? Why does this pay so much? Why do you want to know if I am Mormon? He is going to want whaaaaat?
Gotta move to the stage. Damn. Got no reason for the state I’m in.
Russell (guitar, vocals), Emma (bass) is your right. Matthew (drummer) is banging around the center.
Light it up. “Friends”, “I Know What I Am”, and “Death By Diamonds And Pearls” roll by in a blur. Shit. I am sober, too. I was warned about the, ahem, potentially disconcerting nature of this crowd by a colleague. Wow. They weren’t kidding. I’m in black and leather coated. Yikes, there’s two eight year olds in front of me. That is cool and all, but, fuck this.
My new vantage point is on Russell’s side. People are into it. Dancing. Pogoing. Love professed in conversations around me. Totally great. I’m about 15 deep. Could get closer, but let’s capture the memory. Survey the Crystal. Packed house! People are paying attention. For the first time in ages I get to be that stuck up asshole. I saw them play to like 30 people. I’m hip. And all that.
Band of Skulls is transitioning into this really, really great live band. They are still rough. But that is part of the fun. You can see the flashes of potential for bigger arenas. Matthew Hayward is a bear of a man. He can go from all rhythm to a chaotic mass of rocking crash cymbals, head banging, and violent attacks on his toms. Russell can riff or lay down a solo. Intro/outro, extended jams. Yeah, they happen. Whatever you want. Blonde hair in his eyes. All the way. All the time. The guitar wankery is this 60′s/70′s/80′s hybrid. Totally fun. Emma is still shy and unassuming. Finding her voice. Women who don’t think they are hot are usually the hottest. Just an observation.
So. The music. Some things you can only appreciate if you are there. The riff from “Blood” made me shiver when it first kicked in. The distortion on the guitar solo for “I Know What I Am” was spot on. When the first notes of the guitar solo for “Death By Diamonds And Pearls” start playing….well, you weren’t there. And if you were, awesome, right? “Impossible” was the last song of the set. Bookended by jams on the in and outro. With the guitar left on the stage ringing a loop til the roadie cut it. “Impossible” is an interesting closer. Aren’t you supposed to close on a song that makes you want to go out and buy an album? Something hooky? “Impossible” is more of a sweeping epic type deal. Very retro. Props.
I hope this band takes over the world. All the overproduced, auto-tuned, synthesized shit has a place. Don’t get me wrong. But a band willing to swim against that tide and do it with an entertaining, rocking sound? I’m in. All in.
Home by 9:30. I give Metric the finger. This night was like a surgical strike. Clean and quick. Not sure it was real. Not my usual style. I’ve got a ticket stub crawling with street scalper cooties and I’m amped enough to consider a binge drunk. So it probably was.
