I arrived at the Silverlake Lounge early - too early, 9:15 pm, and paid thirteen bucks to get in. At first I thought, "What the fuck? It's usually eight." Still I ponied up the cash; I figure I'd be more bored at home having my parents nag at me. The cash was worth the mere spectacle.
At first sight, the guitarist's speaker boxes were massive (15"x4, one bass, one guitar, for those who care). An initial sense of classic guitar player gluttony came to mind. The combination theremin and lamp atop each of the black cabinets, the guitar with a coffee colored plaid pick-guard, complete with huge spectacles on a thin boyish face provided a perfect retro-hip look. The drummer was of a similar disposition, except he attempted to reach the grandeur of John Bonham with a simply large Ludwig drum kit and crash six feet into the sky.
Through their hipster exterior, the raucous sounds of which one would hear of Zeppelin and Queens of the Stone Age poured out with the melodic sensibilities of the White Stripes. The set begun with the guitarist standing directly in front of his speakers to produce the the most horrendous low frequency feedback one could possibly stand, but that made the melodic thunder that came in replacement better. This is not to say that the music would not have been rockin' otherwise - it just gave a nice contrast. Like the aforementioned bands, Tweak Bird, Caleb and Ashton Bird, take one back to the heaviness of rock we love and put it into the nice little two piece package.
Despite the two man lineup, they managed a certain weight that makes a heavier sound than a guitar and a bass player would normally have with a whole bunch of stupid effects. In part, the timbre comes from an unorthodox setup of very thick strings usually reserved as the higher strings on a bass placed as the thickest strings on his guitar. A certain effect occurred when mixed with precise Harley engine of a drummer coming on the other end. Luckily the pair had a stage presence to accompany their playing.
With each song, each downbeat, the body pulsations become more apparent. The movements of each coincided perfectly with the flow of the music. No move was too brash, nothing was out of place: not even the drummer pulling out a small Casio-like children's keyboard to do a 2 minute solo while still managing to keep some sort of percussion moving or the guitarist opening the magical boundaries of the spooky theremin by coming within proximity of the mysterious instruments. Unfortunately, I was in the bathroom while the Casio solo was happening; at first it sounded as though the guitarist was reaching a new level by soloing like Randy Rhoads, but it was the drummer pressing individual keys as fast as could - still a pretty cool sound.
The crowd and I loved it. The whole time we were rocking out; even a couple of middle aged love birds who inadvertently walked in thinking it was Friday (usually no shows at this venue), not Thursday hipster haven. Yet, they seemed pleasantly surprised as they bobbed their heads. So, check these guys out at their upcoming shows at the Mountain Bar in Chinatown (02/29/08).
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