Ramen and screamin'
It's a lot of fun when you go see a band and then, later in the night after you and the band have had a few, you get to talking with the singer, and it turns out that even though she snarls and wails and thrashes her head around onstage like a woman at once possessed and in complete command, she's really approachable, sweet as pie, girl-next-door and all that. And if she's as much of a badass as Marissa Paternoster, it's also cool if she just kind of shrugs at you and walks away.
We went to The End Thursday night to see Paternoster's band, Screaming Females, and must admit that the reputation that precedes them is well-deserved. They tore shit apart.
More specifically, Paternoster shredded in a way that made us want to take back all the bad things we've said about "aimless" guitar solos, and the times we've used the word "noodling" disparagingly. Actually, what Paternoster does is not so much noodle as hit you in the face with a pot full of scalding hot ramen. When she's not doing all the snarling, wailing and thrashing about of the head we mentioned earlier. That is not to say this is some sort of sloppy, energy-instead-of-ideas band. They are a riffing, surging punk rock machine. With flames shooting out the exhaust pipes. And lightning bolts and a funnel cloud full of fire-breathing unicorns. OK, we're exaggerating now. They totally ruled our face off, though, and Paternoster's like some freak combination of J. Mascis and Carrie Brownstein. Badass.
We were going to say more about openers Heavy Cream, the punky new band featuring Jessica of MEEMAW. Unfortunately, they had some pretty crazy technical difficulties and we're not sure if some of those GBV-esque amp noise-blasts were intentional or the consequence of fucked-up gear. A friend of The Spin remarked, "They couldn't find another girl?" (The band is three-fourths female.) Then again, the dude who said that had a spray-on beard made of Good Looking Hair. Oh, and "Little" Jack Lawrence was there whoopin' it up with the kids, and JEFF the Brotherhood were great, but we say that a lot. (Both those things, actually.) 'Twas a mind ride, indeed—a sweaty, shirtless-guy-with-a-shaved-head-keeps-trying-to-start-a-pit mind ride at that.
Beef, rhymes and life
The Spin believes that a healthy dinner is the first requisite for a fair and balanced show review—if we're malnourished and cranky then we're going to crap all over your capris.
OK, OK, we were probably going to crap on your capris anyway just for kicks. To that effect, we rolled over to Pad Thai Kitchen on Woodland for Drunk Noodles with Beef (a great dish, and a perfect summation of life as The Spin) only to discover that Cosmic Clearance, the granola-flavored rave at Limelight, would also be rockin' the parkin' lot. We were really happy that we could listen to some great dub-step and drum 'n' bass while also maintaining a physical barrier between us and the hygiene-challenged youngsters who were already in/on ecstasy so early in the night. Good stuff.
Our plan was to catch Quiet Entertainer's CD release set at Café Coco before we went over The End to check out DJ Wick-it and the rappers he had assembled for Y'all Gotta Mic. Sadly, Coco was running behind and even though we think W.T. is a nice kid, we can't really handle waiting through sweaty white guys rapping to their iPods, so we hit the pavement. (Side note: We're totally diggin' QE's new Machismo CD.)
The crowd at The End was kind of sparse, which we assumed was the cumulative effect of both the 'Dores and Blue Raiders starting their summer vacations this week, rather than a reflection on the talent. Hosted by local cooking-show legend Big Fella and stacked with quality locals and up-and-coming out-of-towners, The End was ground zero for an evening of illin' on Elliston.
Local rappers Future and Open Mic need to drop an album right now, because the MySpace clips do their old-school flavored next-school raps very little justice. Future comes equipped with some high-quality, hi-fidelity beats that sounded great on the boomy system—even if his '90s sitcom references made us feel less like ironic hipsters and more like crusty old codgers.
Spin favorites The Billy Goats managed to keep the crowd congealed in the face of adversity, droppin' ribald party rhymes and moving butts with their bouncy refixed soul beats. MC Iller and MC 24/7 have a great stage chemistry—they are the definitive odd couple, not in any "racial" sense but rather because they are both very, very odd people. Their cordial goofiness and dope rhymes make for one of the most engaging live acts in town right now, if only because they are having more fun than any self-righteous soft rockers or introspective indie kids.
Eating everything up
To most of us grown folk, Nashville's premiere all-ages mecca RCKTWN is basically the Chuck E. Cheese of rock venues—without the beer, of course. But that's not to say it's entirely without merit to anyone old enough to drink. There are few things as surreal and self-revealing as the experience of placing yourself in the midst of several hundred tweens for a rock show.
We walked in Saturday night to find The Love Willows already in full swing. Clad in bright candy colors and more than twice as old as 90 percent of the audience, this boy/girl, guitar/vocal duo belted out a string of sugary, upbeat, Disney-ready pop songs along with backing tracks provided by a laptop. With a stage presences as innocuous as their name, they bantered like it was a Sweet 13 birthday bash, but given the primary demographic of this room, that was probably appropriate—and these kids definitely ate it up.
That's another thing: These kids ate everything up. At one point during the sound check for the next band, the crowd even let loose a squealing roar for the drum tech testing out the snare. It was tough not to feel jaded when almost everyone in the room was 100 times more ecstatic to be there than we were. While most hipsters wouldn't be caught dead wearing the T-shirt of the band we're about to see, purchased at that very show just minutes ago, these young whippersnappers could hardly wait.
Next up, The Pretty Reckless silently took the stage and, after a good 10 minutes of technical difficulties, proceeded with their first tune while maintaining their quiet cool. The star of this show was obviously frontwoman Taylor Momsen, better known as the co-star of the CW Network's popular Gossip Girl. Sporting a head of platinum blonde hair, red lipstick, a leather jacket and silk slip, Momsen made the Courtney Love comparison instantaneous and unavoidable. But context and clichés aside, these kids wailed on some pretty dark 'n' dirty alterna-rock that was a great deal more entertaining than we expected—full of swaggery riffs and precocious angst. Momsen pushed her raw, raspy voice to the max, providing a surprisingly soulful howl that combined the foreboding growl of C. Love and the gritty croon of Karen O.
After another 30 minutes of downtime, the room had filled with more training bras than the Wal-Mart juniors section. If these youngsters got that jazzed over a sound check, you can imagine the shrill clamor elicited by headliners The Veronicas. Without a word, the twin Aussie sisters and their stylish sidemen introduced themselves with the opening synth strings of their hit "Untouched," a sleek, razor-sharp, synth-kissed pop song and easily one of the most memorable guilty pleasures of last summer. The rest of the set was blow after blow of sexy, hook-filled modern pop that whipped the mass of prepubescent bodies into a hot frenzy. While they are incredibly easy on the eyes, The Veronicas actually fell a bit flat for us in the charisma department. But hey, there we go being jaded again.
Don't worry, it'll be all pictures dudes again next week. Meanwhile, email thespin@nashvillescene.com.
