We hit the Side Bar right on time to find Wax Fang running a few minutes late. Which was good, because it gave us lots of time to drink the free Lonestars on draft. When Wax Fang kicked off their anthemic, epic rock, it occurred to me that I've never seen a bad Wax Fang show. Every performance I've seen, whether it's at an in-store or a venue, has been one confident ass-handing to whatever poor souls have to follow them. This one was no different, but it was only a handful of songs, so it was over in a flash. It was time for night time debauchery, and by 'debauchery' I simply mean more mustaches and very, very long lines.
We hit the Radio Room to check out No Age, thinking it'd be no big deal to get in, but already the line was out the street and the badge/wristband divide had kicked in. No Age are a fuzzy skate-punk band out of Los Angeles who put a big, washy, spaced-out sheen over everything. Here, outside in perfect weather under a tent, they blazed through a set of their bedroom punk with the kind of abandon you'd find in two dudes kicking it in their, uh, bedroom.
And then there was this one super-fan who was dancing around all spiritual orgy style.
And the guitarist totally had a mustache, which means he's from Los Angeles.
But it was time to check out some Nashville cats, and the Next Big Nashville night party was going on in the Gibson Room at Maggie Mae's. We headed over just in time to catch a bit of The Features acting like you suspect your boyfriend would when he goes out of town.
Which is to say, they seemed wild and off-the-cuff, with none of the restraint sometimes characteristic of their local shows. Pelham & Co. were rocking like I'd never seen them. It was probably because they knew the next day was the first day of Spring. We saw Nashville faces at this show as well--the likes of John Bruton, Michael Madrid, Jason Moon Wilkins of course and more.
Then Turbo Fruits took the stage with Wes Traylor in the mix--hadn't seen them since the former MEEMAW dude joined on bass--and muscled through a set of their scuzzy stoner rock. It was a good time, and the video playing on the big backdrop was a compilation of various and sundry Nashville bands' show shots.
I had wanted to catch New Zealand popsters Cut Off Your Hands, and they were starting soon, so we hit the pavement again and made our way to Emo's, where a crowd was filling in fast to take a gander at this catchy buzzed-about act.
And it was everything I expected but a little more--they put on a kick-ass show, jumping around and keeping things high-energy. It was a perfect compliment to their shouty, angular Brit-pop inspired tunes.