In some quarters, the fat sounds, garish colors, and wide ties of 1974 have held their ground. Despite neopunk, 60’s nostalgia, and 80’s revivals, a few folks have nursed that particular muse.
Madame Robot and the Lust Brigade could be their avatars. Fronting the band, Oweinama sings and plays a mini-Korg decked out with bellbottoms, a grey two-tone vest, purple shirt, silver bracelets and shades – on a dark day he glows. His fluid, mysterioso lines underpinned or accented the thick, driving lines, riffs, and fills from Matt Sanders’ guitar. Styling one of the few redfros in these parts these days, Sanders explored the gamut of bluesy rock influences – a Jefferson Airplane lead, a vigorous Grateful Dead romp, a few noise breaks. Brooks Hefner’s deadly snaking bass added propulsive and searing slides to melodies alternately flowing and angular, changes signaled by Kathleen Chaluka’s incisive kitwork. Her sharp, clean drumming opened space for the others to play while defining the borders for them to stay within. The band completed the 70’s scene by selling vinyl of their latest release. Without punk, would there have been no CDs?
A less successful revivalist approach came from the straightahead blues-rock trio Whooping Crane. Burning incense at the foot of the stage may have helped them set their mood, but it took some time before they found their best work. They performed songs, that, while fun and even drivingly fluid, didn’t establish enough character to distinguish them from a highly competent bar band doing covers. A guest spot of vocals by Madame Robot drummer Chaluka added spice early in the set, and Keith Abenew’s fuzz-bass provided a distinctive sound, but when your guitar player wears a tie over a T-shirt, the esthetic is more frat-boy than funky. Whooping Crane flashed more promise in their final two tunes, one with sharply angled changed, and the final with a long, jazzy jam around a loose and rambling story. Keeping a past genre vital involves more than running through its typical gestures; it takes a strong personality while avoiding the self-indulgence that, in the end, made punk necessary.
More:
Madame Robot and the Lust Brigade
Whooping Crane
LIC Bar
The Silver Shark is always moving, just under the surface of the LIC scene. He comes up suddenly to snap up some wine and music, and perhaps bare his teeth at nearby lovely mermaids – though he generally doesn't bite. You can catch an occasional glimpse of him at your favorite LIC venue, and regularly here at his blog.
