Do people seriously still go to the Christmas Parade? It certainly seems like they must, because traffic was one gnarly bitch as we tried to make our way to 12th & Porter Friday evening. We surprised everyone--even ourselves--by arriving right on time just before Caitlin Rose kicked off her Hammertorch-backed set.
Rose and the boys did their best to warm up a crowd that was pin-drop quiet. Like, Thanksgiving-just-after-your-brother-told-the-family-he's-gay quiet. Painful. As always, Little Miss Rose tried her heart out to fill the empty space with her trademark, charming and tangential banter. Rose sounded great, though the band most definitely could have been tighter. Regardless, steel player Steve Daly's playing was heavenly, and we've seen Rose deliver enough stellar performances that we'll excuse her a loose set or two.
After sound-checking their brains out, Glossary started in on a performance that, although it was kick-ass and tight, still didn't get the partially cowboy-hatted, heavily balding audience away from the corners of the room or anywhere near the stage. At least not initially; it took some Southern charm-imbued coaxing from the band to get folks to acknowledge that they were actually at a rock show.
Glossary were practiced in a manner that comes along with being a band for the better part of a decade, and, like a countrified Thin Lizzy, they exuded feel-good energy that was pretty disproportionate with that of the crowd. Honestly, we don't care how often we've heard "Little Caney" or "Almsgiver"--they're solid gold every time those heavily bearded Murfreesboroans play 'em, and we'll stand by that.
Now, have you ever wondered what it might have been like to see Better Than Ezra, The Gin Blossoms or Hootie and the Blowfish before they made it big? Well, friends, wonder no longer. For God's sake, Wess Floyd and the Daisycutters did enough stompin', struttin', monitor-foot-proppin', rock grimacin', amp climbin' and self indulgin' to last us a lifetime. Four leather-jacketed, cowboy-booted, "whoa-oh"-packed songs were enough to coat us in a layer of oblivious awkwardness that just wouldn't come off in the shower. Unless precisely in the middle of the road is what these dudes are aiming for (and it very well may be), six to eight months of hardcore self-examination are what the Spin Doctor prescribes. Nothing personal, it just wasn't our speed. We prefer something with a set of balls and its own identity.
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im tired of your scene bull. Wess Floyd and The Daisycutters are one of the few bands in nashville who actually can play a rock show and not repulse you and put you to sleep.
"Scenes" are exhausting. Thank god Wess Floyd and The Daisycutters have 100% enthusiasm and rock-ability. They know what they are and who they are enough in their music to share it and share it loud. With songs like "St.Paul" have permission to be yourself, dance, smile, wag your tail, reference your heroes, worship...whatever. I've ditched many a scene or circle to join in and just have fun. Try it Nashville. I dare you.
Hmm could there be a little projection in these statement towards Wess Floyd and The Daisycutters in the sense that the writer in the one needing a set of balls and identity? Or is this a classic case of compensation? Clearly it is one of these.
We had fun, the Daisy Cutters Rocked! I think the Spins description of the band makes them sound like a good time. the line about balls and identity isn't necessarily nice but remember, that is one person's opinion. That sucks that you guys got compared to Hootie and the Blowfish, I'd be pissed too.
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat." - Teddy Roosevelt
Last call: Is there any member of Wess Floyd and the Daisycutters who hasn't posted here?