Bands I Caught: The Bad News Bats, The Northern Liberties, The Mountain High, The Lowbudgets

Venue: Millcreek Tavern

Granted, I have virgin ears for this kind of thing. But for me, last night was hard. And not hard in that "I could hardly keep my eyes open" sort of way or that "struggling to find words to describe it" sort of way. Not difficult. Just hard. My Millcreek experience was the antithesis of Monday night. Where there the space was wide and inviting, the Millcreek was narrow, cramped, smoke-filled and full of haphazardly scattered chairs. Where the music of POP’s opener was melodic and at times intentionally silly, this night things got dark. Punk roots showed through the buttoned up hipster crowd. The eye shadow was thick, the mohawks were pointed and earplugs were available at the door. It was music to scare parents to. Not that that’s a bad thing.

The Bad News Bats
Finally. The Bad News Bats were the first all-girl band I had seen gracing the POPPED! stage and they made their voices heard loud and clear (though mostly through Yeah Yeah Yeahs-esque sound). The drums patterns were dirt simple and their music was pretty predictable. If nothing else, the guitar riffs were fun and they made many plays between cutesy, bouncy vocals and dark trills that left me, if not terribly impressed, at least mildly interested.

The Northern Liberties
Dude. So the length of my exposure to metal is System of a Down. And even then it was just as much for their political awareness as it was for their music. It was abrasive, but I felt comfortable enough to blast it in my room if I was in the right mood. The Northern Liberties, though, were a totally different animal for me: probably a large, shadowy animal lurking just out of eyesight waiting tear a hole in my head and suck my soul through a straw. It was a simple trio: a guitar, full drum set and a lead vocalist on a snare. The set started on loud, aggressive chords and drums much too fast for dancing. The lead banged out a drum solo reminiscent of African dance troupes. The lights turned red and a smoke rose from behind the stage as the lead stopped abruptly, snatched a microphone and barreled out of into the audience, screaming incomprehensible lyrics and swaying wildly, eyes rolled back, half falling backwards, just gone. He avoided the light afterwards, holding his head. Ripped out the mic cord and threw it aside as if it were a snake getting ready to bite him. The guitarist asked if he needed help. He said something about the colors.

I stayed for another song but soon enough I headed back to the bar to get some air. My companion for the evening remarked on the darkness in the Millcreek’s front half.

“It’s perfect,” she laughed, “it’s like this half is heaven and the other is hell.”

“Ya,” I said. “Perfect.”`

mtn.High
Blah. It was a hard act of follow of course, but I found these guys totally forgettable. They had the guts to rock an instrumental, a plus I thought in considering their punk pretensions. Two drum sets, but neither did anything that struck me as particularly interesting. There was a natural flow of energy that followed the previous act, so their slower tempo led to a chance for many for dancing. I tapped my feet a couple times. But the lead’s screaming struck me as false. For me, their set was just a rest period. Nothing more.

The Lowbudgets
Fun. With all the tortured souls, dark brooding lights and bloody throats the evening brought, it was awesome to see someone smile openly on stage. The Low Budgets reminded me of the early days of Sum 41. You wanted to hate them, but they were so damn goofy you just had to laugh right along. The guitarist rocked around his instrument, cradling it like a large hoagie he was very soon going to eat, his eyes full of excitement. They got the “Understandable Lyrics” award for the evening (there can only be one), spouting out gems like, “I can’t believe I’m related to Cher… gonna stab her in the eye and take all her money,” and screaming, “LET’S GO!!!!” twice during the set. My favorite was the long-haired geek locked at center of stage, banging out 8-bit melodies on the keyboard that sounded straight out of A Link To the Past. “Hi, my name is Steve and I’m attracted to exotic noses.” I mean, come on. What is there not to love?