The Spin was catching some mid-week Zs Thursday evening in preparation for the weekend, when our roommate woke us up with a reminder that Tapes 'n Tapes were on the agenda for the evening. When we arrived at Mercy Lounge uncharacteristically early shortly thereafter to a meager and especially Vandy-licious crowd, we realized we could have snagged at least another 20 minutes or so of beauty sleep. But we won't hold it against the roomie for vying for our +1. It's only natural.
Four dudes eventually ambled onstage as we were doing our best to imbibe our way out of a post-nap haze, but we swore it couldn't have been the opening band. "Certainly these are just some misplaced Pac Sun models," we thought to ourselves. But, oh, how wrong we were. It was in fact New Hampshire-based openers Wild Light.
Wild Light were all white pants, popped collars and sugary hooks that weren't especially hooky. Their vaguely sentimental pop made it difficult to glean exactly what their influences might be. It was kind of like watching...we don't know...The Bravery or something. We felt bad that they were greeted with a somewhat lukewarm, totally Nashville reception--especially considering they had just released their debut album two days earlier--but past their decent vocal harmonies, they sorta just left us scratching our heads. Thus, we spent most of their set shooting both some pool and the shit in Mercy's back room.
After defeating the roommate twice rather handily--he scratched on the eight ball both times--we made it back into the main room just in time to hear Tapes 'n Tapes playing "Just Drums," one of the coolest tracks from their debut The Loon. Despite being in the final throes of a long national tour, Tapes put on an exuberant show. Their mix was strong, and they performed as though unaffected by the fickle buzzmill they know all too well, a cruel beast that hyped the shit out of their first album and fell silent at the release of their second.
Though there was a perplexing and strangely awesome collection of fist-pumping brosbies front-and-center singing their guts out and clutching one another's shoulders, the crowd never quite swelled past Mercy Lounge's bar. A mediocre reception to a strong performance. Such is Nashville. Welcome to the jungle.