Last Friday was the kind of steamy that normally keeps me as close as possible to an air conditioner, not bouncing around in a stiflingly hot, sweaty rock club. But the lineup at the Riot Room was a very promising one, and ultimately it was well worth leaving my comfortable padded chair in the highly refrigerated 39th Street neighborhood bar of choice, DB Cooper's.
I kept thinking that there's a band named Fuck Yeah It's Friday because I frequently see it on concert calendars. I do not think I want to see a band called Fuck Yeah It's Friday, and that's the group that I thought was going to be opening, so we unfortunately missed the actual opener,
Continents. It turns out that Fuck Yeah It's Friday is just the name of a DJ night on the Riot Room back patio with Stevie Cruz, which makes much more sense. Time to learn how to read.
Mistake learned, we walked in to see Cowboy Indian Bear just beginning its set. I hadn't seen the band since it played Middle of the Map fest with Daniel Johnston, and while that was a well-executed set, I think that their lush, melodic intimacy and mellow stage presence work better in a smaller venue. It's hard now to imagine the band without Katlyn Conroy, who joined last fall. Her voice blends beautifully, particularly with Marty Hillard's, and the keyboards fill out the sound, giving it greater depth. CIB was a somewhat odd fit for the evening, though. The crowd was warm, but it was apparent that the people were ready for something a bit more rowdy.
Poison Control Center immediately jostled everyone in the audience out of any kind of complacency with its spazzy, frenetic and immensely fun set. Initially, the band seemed like a pretty straightforward power-pop/punk act, and guitarist Patrick Fleming (no relation) and bassist Joseph Terry provided enough acrobatics to perhaps keep from a deeper listening. Fleming ran deep into the crowd and must have done the splits a dozen times, and Terry played several songs on his back, legs high up in the air in a weird kind of Jazzercize pose. A few songs in, after more than a few somersaults, the musically ambitious bits became more apparent. Singer Devin Frank's voice has traces of Steven Malkmus, and the guitar work of both Fleming and Terry is sprawling and quite complex. It was quite a showing. "Wow. The headliners have a lot to live up to," my friend Zach said after the set.
Did I mention it was hot? It was. Really. Unbearably hot. As the night outside cooled off to a balmy 85 degrees, it was easily 15 degrees warmer inside, and it only got hotter. No complaints from
Titus Andronicus, which took to the stage to barrel through an hour and a half's (!) worth of breakneck, exuberant punk rock. Lead singer Patrick Stickles' wild, raspy voice and energy set the pace. He's not a great singer, but it's punk rock and he's screaming half the time anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Stickles does more than make up for whatever vocal shortcomings he has in angst and humor, dropping literary references along with
Fuck yous in equal measure in his anthemic songs. He also has a long, bushy beard, which in the heat must be like wearing a hot, wet animal on your face.
Matching (and perhaps exceeding) Stickles in energy was guitarist Amy Klein, who managed to pogo throughout the entire hour and a half, only stopping to wail out a guitar solo or hold court with a teal electric violin. The mostly male audience literally gravitated toward her -- that side of the stage was packed and cramped, and the other had plenty of elbow room. I took a break halfway through the set, as the heat and humidity inside became choking, and I began to feel flecks of sweat flying off the dancing bodies around me. When I returned, the band was still tearing it up. Punk rock bands usually peter out pretty quickly, but the stamina of Titus Andronicus is impressive. The audience would have probably stayed all night for the raucous fun they were having. As the show drew to a close, a handful of dudes in front had their arms around each other's shoulders, fist-pumping and falling down drunk together. Not the worst way to end a night.
Random Detail: Stickles filled a technical-difficulty lull in the middle of the show by talking about the television show Frasier. Guy's got range.
Set List:
A More Perfect Union
Richard II
My Time Outside the Womb
Upon Viewing Brueghel's "Landscape With the Fall of Icarus"
Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, NJ
No Future Part Three: Escape From No Future
Titus Andronicus
To Old Friends and New
Battle of Hampton Roads
Titus Andronicus Forever
Four Score and Seven
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