Weaving through Denver Music, Art, Culture, and Life
Two local bands make some fantastically furious noise with two new EPs. Denver fans of loud, noise-addled shoegaze rock and wild, frenetic screaming punk will rejoice!
Rev. Peyton’s Big Damn Band kicked off their tour of the American West last Saturday night at the Larimer Lounge fresh and full of their characteristically furious country blues spirit, and added some punchy humor to the mix, to boot.
Leave it to Slim Cessna’s Auto Club, who have put on one of Denver’s best live shows for more than a decade, to be the only band that could outdo their own reputation. That’s what happened last Wednesday at the Bluebird in the first of two New Year’s Eve celebratory shows. The six-piece not only proved their consummate showmanship, often sardonically tongue-in-cheek, but also a grasp of drama, playing as the cast of the classic cartoon Popeye. And they added some new tunes to their set — the first in more than three years.
For the first 25 minutes of their set at the Bluebird Theater Monday night,Melt Banana blasted the crowd with a melange of noise and darkness — pierced only by the members’ head-mounted lights — that felt like my imagination of shock therapy, without the benefit of that thick piece of rubber they shove in your mouth to keep you from biting through your tongue. Never have I been so impressed by the venue’s sound system, nor have I ever felt the need to don earplugs so badly. And yet I, along with the smallish, half-capacity (at best) crowd, loved every ear drum piercing minute of it. So much so that when the four piece settled into more accessible, 30- to 90-second pieces with recognizable rhythms and chords for the remainder of their set, we all seemed to miss the cacophony.
It’s no shock that DBCs are gaining a following, and quickly. As Banker said in a recent interview: “We want to play music that is crazy fun, but also has some substance to it. We want people to have so much fun they shake where they stand.”
Officially a band for just under two years (and a significant part of that time was spent finishing school up in Greeley), Denver’s The Don’ts and Be Carefuls are quickly racking up a live history that many local bands would die for. In that short time, they’ve shared the stage with bands like Hot IQs, Tapes ‘N Tapes, Mumiy Troll and HEALTH, to name a few, and they’re already throwing an EP Release party Friday night, December 4, at Meadowlark.
Not to say they sound alike – well, maybe a little (I wouldn’t be surprised to find that their sheet music shared similar coffee stains) – but Hot IQs corpse has barely quit steaming, and with The DBCs, Denver’s already faced with a suitor more than capable of helping us to move out of mourning, and back on to the dance floor. This band’s catchy thrash-while-you-stomp-and-giggle style is bound to prick up more than a few dozen ears after Friday night, and should be well on its way into the local scene’s psyche by the time the weekend’s over.
If you were a young adult anywhere near the “alternative” music scene in 1989 when the Pixies’ “Doolittle” album was originally released, you remember its buzz. This was no “ordinary” record, and it came from a decidedly un-“ordinary” band, at least for their time. Its significance has more than survived the test of time, which is exactly why the band was at the Fillmore Auditorium on Monday night to perform the whole damn thing — along with some subsequently released B-sides from around the same time.
You might think that Mason Jennings’ decision to become a member of Jack Johnson’s Brushfire label family would be an iffy move for the fiercely independent singer-songwriter that he is, and whether the association would soften his style. I did, until I saw him play at the Bluebird last Friday night. I was certain I would be subject to a too-clean, pop-folky string of bouncy, happy tunes, the ilk of which build up the majority of Johnson’s oeuvre. Not so. Jennings remains a strong, almost surly and unabashedly political songwriter, with more in common with Paul Westerberg or Elliott Smith than the lighthearted crooner.
