We gotta hand it to Nashville’s Dead. Who else (besides Next Big Nashville) can round up the same crop of bands you can see playing Nashville on any given night of the week, cram them all onto a handful of bills on the same weekend and get folks excited as all hell about it? Like more of a church revival than a rock show, there was nothing about to go down on that stage 90 percent of the room hadn’t seen before, but damn if they weren’t jazzed to the max to witness it again.
The flow of bodies seemed like a slow trickle until we saw Diarrhea Planet onstage and a mob of about 100 standing front and center. Whitfield Smith — So Jazzy frontman, and the evening’s master of ceremonies — kicked things off with a poem, just before the gangly sextet behind him launched into a pop-punk frenzy of minimalistic excess. Most Diarrhea Planet songs occupy little more than a stanza on the lyric sheet, but when you’ve got four guitars and three guys shouting that stanza in unison, you realize there’s no point in watering down the message. Much to the delight of nearly everyone, DP broke their vow never to play “Ghost With a Boner” again, inspiring a whole other level of ape shit to rain down.
The towering, bearded Whitfield returned to the stage with yet another poem just before an onslaught of first-wave hardcore nostalgia courtesy of Cy Barkley and his Outsiders. The burly, hairy, leather-clad Barkley apes copiously on the snotty precedents set by G.G, Allin, DOA, and The Dils.
Fresh off last weekend’s Bruise Cruise, Miami’s Jacuzzi Boys got a warm welcome from what was becoming one packed and sweaty room. Their tunes are everything you’d expect from your average Nuggets-worshipping youngsters convinced they were born decades after their time. Channeling primitive punk energy into a reverb-drenched psychotic reaction, the Jacuzzis trade in a high-octane garage pop with riffs to burn.
We stepped out of Exit/In’s newly remodeled bathroom, to find our nostrils transitioning from the scent of fresh paint to a fog of B.O. Seriously, what is it about a JEFF show that stinks up a room like no other? By the time The Brotherhood were emitting the phaser-soaked hums of their intro, the place was all kinds of hot and clammy, transforming the chilly wind outside from nuisance to welcome oasis. Remember when JEFF played house shows, like, every day, making them so easy to take for granted? Well, they don’t do that anymore. Hence, the place was packed with kiddos looking to get their local psych-tinged stoner punk fix while the gettin’ was good. Despite having a new record promised for “early 2011,” this set was pretty much all hits cherry-picked evenly from their back catalog.