The Spin

Down with the sicknessThe End has the uncanny ability to feel like a sardine can on busier nights, and alternately cavernous when slow. Things were teetering somewhere in between Thursday night at the launch party for Nashville’s newest indie label Nailbat Tapes. We arrived to find we’d just missed Another Side of Bob Jasmin, somewhat unfortunate, as the audience seemed quite taken. A motley crew of gentlemen of varying heights, widths and facial hair creativity calling themselves Evil Bebos soon followed. Bebos stormed into a plundering death march of a number, during which their keyboardist—recognized as Ascent of Everest’s Devin Lamp—suffered an unfortunate mishap: the table supporting his complicated matrix of electronic gadgetry capsized, sending the whole mess tumbling onto the stage. He miraculously managed to recover a signal by the end of the song, scrapping the table and making a spot for himself at ground level. The band transcended plodding metal-esque riffs and ventured into more visceral and ominous territory using elements of noise and faint hints of melody before diving back into a raging, guttural stupor—a pattern that repeated throughout the set with outstanding results. The house had filled up nicely by the time local punk rock house party heroes Meemaw finished a lengthy soundcheck—prolonged by each member making last-minute trips to the toilet. Freed from the basement venue underneath the house where they commune, Meemaw sounded crisper and clearer than ever. Gone were the muffled drums, distorted vocals and fuzzy, indecipherable blast of bass and guitar. Instead we got a sharply mixed assault of imaginative, irreverent three-chord punk songs championing campy American stereotypes, unhealthy living and off-the-wall pop culture references. The Meemaws exchanged instruments a few times, trying out a few new tracks and ending their set with the vocal debut of drummer Jessica McFarland, whose tuneless shrieking was well masked by some of the most adorable stage moves we’ve ever seen. Headlining the event were Nailbat’s owners and operators German Castro. Suffering through what looked like one miserable bout of the flu, singer/bassist Matt Sullivan (a Scene contributor, by the way) channeled his bad germs into a shrieking, deafening, fuzz-drenched squall of squealing highs and roaring lows, stopping at one point to blow his nose on the set list. Paul McCaige’s tumultuous, frenetic jazz beats and stoner-friendly grooves provided the only logical backdrop to Sullivan’s flow of post-nasal drip and amplified sludge.Happy happy birthdayThe year’s most memorable birthday bash thus far went down this weekend at Mercy Lounge, which celebrated its 5th consecutive year in business with a fully loaded weekend of free shows featuring Music City’s flagship rock ’n’ roll entertainers. Unfortunately, we could pick only one night to partake in the festivities—Friday night, when the indie rockers took center stage. By the time we got inside, bearded and balding rockers Hands Down Eugene were midway through their last sleepy, psychedelic shanty. The house was already packed but still comfortable, and standing at full attention for old-school indie sensations The Carter Administration. Proving that skinny pants and luxurious locks of hair don’t a rock band make, the Carters whizzed through a short and sweet stint of poppy, late ’80s college-rock jams. It was over in the blink of an eye, replaced by the gritty, garage sounds of The Clutters. Sporting Carter Administration drummer Todd Kemp on second guitar, the songs were all dirty guitar licks and balls-out beats. Hands Down Eugene eventually returned to the stage, this time filling in for three missing members of Ghostfinger. Sporting the requisite facial hair, HDE proved worthy support for frontman/guitarist Richie Kirkpatrick’s guitar hero antics and quirky delivery. While this makeshift ’Finger was more than enough to get the job done, we couldn’t help but long for missing piano man Matt Rowland’s grizzly aesthetic, tinkling Rhodes riffs and smooth backing vocals. Walking from one side of the bar to the other got increasingly difficult as more and more folks filtered in. The short breaks between bands were soundtracked by the Club Sportag DJs who kept the speakers blaring with a danceable mix of indie and electro favorites. 

Sporting their trademark yellow- and red-striped bathing suits, the evening’s fifth act De Novo Dahl filled the room with their anthemic, funky pop. The sing-along lasted from start to finish and—like most of the others—ended all too quickly. But with a bill this chock full of quality, we must sacrifice a little song quantity to cram it all in. When How I Became the Bomb finally took the stage—greeted by a screaming wail of adoration—we knew who the real stars of this show were. Offering no surprises in the way of a set list,  the band trotted out their well-loved favorites, then added a token cover song—the King’s “Suspicious Minds.”  The evening had reached its apex—dance frequency was at an all time high, and the sing-along action was at it’s most fervent—which made the scheduling all the more anticlimactic.  For reasons unknown, up-and-comers Eureka Gold were on last. Fortunately for them, Mercy’s patrons were ready to keep rocking, and the band had plenty of folks hang around to enjoy their ’60s school retro power pop. By the time Eureka Gold finished, most everyone had paid their tabs and trickled out, but the hard core contingent remained for a small but spirited dance party in front of the stage as Club Sportag continued pumping up jams until closing time. Send the syllabus from your illegal “pole fitness” class at The Muse to thespin@nashvillescene.com.