(Flyer by Olivia Russin, via Aviv)
It’s true that I inevitably run into some semantic obstacles when I try to enlighten people about the
New England Patriots. Yeah, not the football team or whatever, but the weirdo punk band. But trust, the Pats are worth the hassle. OK, so they’re from Boston, but hear me out– these guys are ratchet as all hell, and know how to whip even the blandest room into a professional-grade brain-screw. Expect spineless (in a good way) noise without seeming end or beginning, interspersed with small grasps at reality or familiarity– try and hold on to them and within a blink’s time they’re gone. This is the attention-shattered ecstatic floundering of a band truly unhinged.
The Pats recently dropped some new tunes on the net for the first time in two long years (along with some heady new artwork depicting their googly-eyed Steal Your Face skull), which bodes well for a new record release. But all you need worry about right now is the Pats’ impending appearance in NYC, and since they’re about halfway through their April tour– the point where, deep into the bender, everyone begins to lose their mind, but still manages to have some semblance of fun– there’s a good chance it’s gonna be a real banger.
(Image via Silent Barn/ Raw Pony)
The frontwoman of this Columbus, Ohio garage punk outfit has a bellowing range of vocal talents, from quivering falsettos to dips and whirs and extends and holds, all of which she utilizes at her whim, without paying any attention to the laws of physics, which can feel something like the worst roller coaster ride you can imagine. And that’s awesome stuff for punk. It’s all so worthy of our girl
Kathleen Hanna (who’s back not only performing but
landing perfect splits) and the same unbridled energy, and combined with the
Raw Pony‘s bare-bones slacker psych, makes for a real interesting and, uh, real raw rock n’ rolling. Pairing nicely with the old-school vibes are the actual Ramones incarnate,
Shockwaves.
Did we mention that you’re not likely to get even one second to breathe at this show? Shop Talk keep the waves a flowin’, with their frenzied take on clunky, bass-whopped folk punk. The band occasionally veer close to the edge of wide-eyed Mountain Goats earnest storytelling garble, but something manages to pull them back. Maybe it’s the snappy guitar and bass interplay that won’t take a backseat to no one. But for now (considering their relative newness and bitty online catalogue of just two songs) it’s hard to say for sure.
(Flyer via Trans-Pecos)
It’s part II of the Queens International Concert Series’ Trans-Pecos iteration, and duh, the fact that industrial music legend
Genesis Breyer P-Orridge of Throbbing Gristle is headlining with h/er Psychic TV drummer Eddie “Edley” O’Dowd– the guy who encouraged P-Orridge to start the band up again– is reason enough to get to this show. (And if you haven’t seen P-Orridge’s
ongoing exhibition at the Rubin Museum, get to it already.)
But obvi the rest of the lineup is pretty stellar too, what with the Deli Girls (who’ve recently been mixing iconic reggaeton beats and other dance items into their fourth-dimension dischord deluge). And then there’s noise magician Bonnie Baxter (Kill Alters, Shadow Box) as we rarely see her– unadulterated by neither her ambient project nor her avant-noise moniker. Whatever that means, we’re looking forward to it.
Interestingly, a slew of visual artists are on the lineup as well. There’s Victoria Keddie of E.S.P. TV, the psychedelic cable access show and roving analogue video collaboration/ live broadcast experiment, as well as Sam Vernon, who works mainly with collage.
(Flyer via The Acheron)
You’d think we were SOL when it comes to party punk done right, given the enormous wave of saccharine garage rock flooding the interwebs and venues around these parts. But a hometown outfit,
Hank Wood and the Hammerheads– a band you’ve probably seen paired up with the Dawn of Humans crowd– prove that you can wriggle to an organ
and potentially get the wind throttled right out of you. Performances are usually a sweaty affair but as far as the tunes are concerned, think of The Cramps, with an acid-soaked guitar or two thrown in there plus a hefty dose of hardcore spittle screaming, all fronted by a corn-pipe smoking hillbilly pirate.
Speaking of hardcore, Porvenir Oscuro (that’s “dark future” en español for those of you who don’t speak Google translate) does a rather excellent job of it– slippery slide guitars, chanty lyrics about exorcisms, calls for “no more” and other things that are beyond the realm of the aforementioned Spanish cheat sheet.
(Flyer via Palisades)
You know what Tuesdays are great for? Disappearing from the dang world. And while it’ll be far too early in the week to do something really escapist, this lineup at Palisades might do the trick without pulling you too far out to sea. It’s all about compromise, people.
Spooky noise from KHF will cap off the night with some seriously spaced-out, extended meditations on being and nothingness. Madame Deficit is back again to introduce some actual ghosts into the space with her horror show of a set (read more about LC von Hessen’s project here here.) And if you have ears when you walk into this thing, you certainly won’t have them after staying for the Spreaders set, which is best described as an onslaught of relentless wire-crackling, fuse-busting, and conductor-harnessing power electronics. Sick stuff.
