…and so I hear about a band that has a reputation for destroying every venue they play. "Sure, why not?" I say to myself, "Great plan. Publicity agent's dream." I'll check 'em out. Besides, it'll be interesting to see Tufty defend, I figure. Radio Radio doesn't still look as nice as it does for no reason.

Arriving in time for a beverage, I belly up to the bar in the steadily filling room and meet a friend from a long while back, and chat away the seemingly eternal wait for the show to begin. Finally, the opener takes the stage and sets about, in this reviewer's opinion, attempting to lull the crowd into a coma. "What, is 'Trail' really so anticlimactic?", I think to myself. 'Explosions' set was simply poorly planned and executed emo-rock to me, in that I personally was never removed from the objectivity of 'observer' and immersed in their gestalt, if you will. For me, music must be able to remove you from your presence and show you a new light. 'Explosions' show, to me, was little more than a preplanned lengthy droning period with an inevitable cacophonous barrage ending, so as to legitimize their auditory time investment and their opening slot.

But, Hey, I was gabbing and waiting for real explosions. If I were at the stage instead of at the bar, perhaps I would have 'gotten' more than P.Floyd- and environment- styled calculations set to climax unerringly. Your mileage may vary.

Set change. Time to go up front and be. I check out their gear to see what kind of night to expect. If it is low- to mid-range gear in new condition, we'll see some fireworks, I figure. What I see is decent gear, a bit on the shabby side, worn but used. This stuff is obviously appreciated, if somewhat abused, and has been around a while, so I know I'll see a whole show. Just as well, I don't want to see Tufty take on a whole band, anyway.

Drummer, bass, two guitarists and a tech (guitar tech/ fire extinguisher guy- I dunno) onstage. The band starts. PowerEmoCore is my best comparison label, I suppose, but no shoe gazing here, especially with their rep. Strong, powerful, earnest without being mocking. Their stops and starts mean something to me, never seem self-aware, never seem calculated. No Pete Townsend windmills for show, these guys are saying what they need to, and they're telling us in no uncertain terms, and they aren't quiet about it. Bassist, contemplating the instrument, almost Sutcliffe-like. Stage right guitarist jumps about, stabbing at the strings, fervently powerful and urgent. Drummer, not so much beating as releasing the pulse, stronger and more insistent than your heartbeat racing in your ears. Singer, crying out the word, intent without whininess, making us hear what moves him, while adding atmosphere, thick and determined, with his guitar.

Throughout their set, 'Trail' would pass through melody into barrage perfectly, punctuating their emotional message fiercely. At one point, the drummer gets up & swaps places with the singer. "Bummer," I think, since I can't recall seeing a pounder more at one with the essence of a band's being than this guy.

The six-string and microphone send out heart and soul from drum-guy into the room, compelled by something within that must be heard. And, Jeez, how can a guitar player pick up the sticks and not change the essence of a set? Amazing but true to witness, the show was only strengthened by the changeup, every bit as powerful and evocative as before. This changeup would occur again a time or two through the show, perhaps as a necessary 'tag-out' to keep the energy level up, but never compromising the forcefulness or drive of the music.

At one point, the stage gear begins to wobble from the thrashing, the cymbal stands tumble and the cabinets teeter. I wonder if a full-fledged blast is coming, but I don't need it. I realize that I'm witnessing an event that proves to me that current music isn't always a pale, impotent parody of Rock's original, vital essence. The room surges with the sound and the power, and never once do I get the feeling that this is only an imitation. Similar to Neo at the end of 'The Matrix,' the band knows, and their sound and message blast forth in an electrosonic wave, palpable and penetrating.
The band, completely drenched with sweat, swaps back to original configuration again. During the next song, the vocal-guitarist picks up the micstand and steps off the stage and into the crowd, a move that from other bands seems to be a last-ditch attempt to force a connection with the audience. Tonight though, the move seems like a refueling, taking back some of the energy they've given to the appreciative people, preparing for the final go. When these guys pause momentarily for a breather, they've earned it, and the step into the people is as much for the resupply as the attaboys.

I would say that the show then moved into climax , but the flow of the show never really established itself in that formula; it really was a neverending emanation of power. Regardless, the players took the last bit of the night and blasted out with music that once and for all set in stone for me their rightful place as legitimate powerhouses. Sure, they threw guitars. Sure, they knocked amps and drums over. But by god they meant it.

At one point, I see the ultimate Rockandroll picture; All the band kneeling in front of their gear, holding/pushing/feeding. And my camera's too slow. Damn. Regardless, a perfect image of a perfect moment, worshipping at the altar of Rock.

I showed up to see a hypemachine and fireworks. What I saw was an event that took my jadedness and crushed it underfoot. Pure Rock Fury. - T.C.

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