By ALEX BERGIN
Last Saturday night was plagued by foreboding weather conditions; but it wasn't apparent within Kansas City's Brick. A double billing of Texas natives Mount Righteous and Lawrence's Calamity Cubes boasted an eager crowd that defied the dreary night's expectations.
It had been two years since Mt. Righteous last assembled on The Brick's modest stage. (A digs that more than crowded the nine-member-strong Mt. Righteous.) But they looked comfortable; I mean, how couldn't they be? For those unfamiliar with the group, Mt. Righteous hails from Grapevine, Texas, and plays outrageous, poppy marching-band rock, which, by definition is both joyous, and peculiar. One cannot help grinning at the spectacle.
Amid the Christmas-light bedecked Brick, Mt. Righteous frontman Joey
Kendall wheeled about his chest-mounted bass drum, shouting in unison
the refrained request, "You should be in my band!" with other band
members, occupied with marching-band standbys: trombone, trumpet, and
tuba.
Vocals were distorted via megaphones duct-taped to the mic-stands,
and complemented the band's rapid syncopation. The troupe swung from a
strange polka-punk hybrid into a call and response mode, with bass-drum
breakdowns layered with shimmering bell chimes (and even a brief
cowbell solo). Mt. Righteous provided rowdy fun that leads the crowd to
forget for a moment the freezing cold and icy drives ahead.
While Mt. Righteous' marching-band antics constructed a sound that
led each romp though increasingly more familiar territory---rendering
the occasional, unaccompanied electric guitar riff strangely out of
place--the group's relentless energy demanded audience participation.
Their requests for dancing were heeded by a few, which was admirable as
the music itself is so fast-paced and percussive that it doesn't
necessarily lend itself to any sort of grooving movement as much as
fist-pumping or dance-jumping.
The group encored with a crowd-pleasing number about cannibalism,
sung in the same cheery, earnest shouting before departing from the
stage for good. As the audience regarded their return to the bar, I
reflected on Mt. Righteous' prior request: Sure, I'll totally be in
your band. It looks like a blast.
began the evening with their self-described gospel-punk, sporting a
stand up bass, acoustic guitar, and banjo played like a rhythm guitar.
(A technique which I discovered makes a banjo sound much unlike a
banjo.) Headman Joey Henry greeted the dedicated, wooly-clad crowd with
a "Good Morning Motherfuckers!!" Upon taking the stage in a voice whet
only by bits of glass and liquor, Henry leaped into rollicking,
gravelly ballads and the more stomping, uptempo numbers. (Above the bar
in the background, 28 Days Later was playing on repeat, and provided an
apt visual accompaniment.)
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