Photos by Steve Cross.
Update: For more photos, check out the slideshow at nashvillescene.com.
Outdoor shows are almost always a great chance to escape the discomforts of a hot, sweaty rock venue—unless of course you were at Local Honey Saturday night, in which case things were still just as dank and humid as any packed rock club, with Mother Nature laying a nice, sticky blanket of hot air over the top of us. But we at least had some breathing room, the luxury of sitting down anywhere, and no omnipresent stench of sweat and B.O. Most bars don’t have a free keg sitting the corner, either.
The evening got off to a rollicking start when Kindergarten Circus unleashed the fury on a yard half full of family and friends. Though barely old enough to drive, these little dudes channel teen awkwardness into a rage of fiery, primal blues that’d be no less impressive played by anyone twice their age. Be it the curse of puberty or the woes of the working class, it all sounds equally agonizing when filtered through singer/guitarist Dillon Watson’s throaty howl. Here’s to hoping his voice doesn’t change any time soon.
Next up we got our first taste of Spanish Castles—a scrappy punk trio who handed out a short/sweet set of haphazardly handled three chord pop gems, including a cover of one our favorite little-known Pavement classics, “Box Elder.”
We’re not sure if it’s technically possible for two bands to date each other, but if any pair of caps-lock-friendly local acts have made a love connection this year it’s JEFF and MEEMAW. The two have consummated their union with endless touring, habitual local gigging, and their conjoined effort Saigon Baby (a.k.a. Wizardz) who took the stage as the third act on the bill. By this time, the yard had amassed a healthy crowd of folks who gathered around the dark stage, lit only by a single lamp light, as Saigon Baby—accompanied by the spattering white noise and glitchy whirring of noise duo Reid & Wright—combined the droning, motorized, muscle-bound riffs of JEFF with the angsty pop sensibilities of its better half to create a spacey fusion of Sabbath, Hawkwind and Redd Kross.
Closing things down were Hans Condor, whose passion for all things ‘70s was obvious as they mixed up the razor-sharp delivery of early punk, the glittery swagger of glam, and the earthy aftertaste of Southern rock. They even touched on a little Zep-style reggae before the night was over. Things cooled down both literally and figuratively after the music stopped, but the majority of folks in attendance stuck around to mingle and finish off that keg.