My partner and I shrugged off Thursday night's dew with the drag of seasoned Midwesterners. The drizzle that flecked our heads mattered little as Off Broadway's familiar vestibule came within sight sooner than we had hoped. As the day slinked toward darkness like a panther into the jungle's underbelly, we inhaled deep. We were feet from the day's completion as Santah's sounds pursued the night's attention.
"Is it a fucking Tuesday night in St. Louis?!" howled Saint Motel point man A/J Jackson before the band busted into "Daydream/Wetdream/Nightdream." A proper answer was weeded out with a quick glance towards the nearest iPhone. Jackson needed no response, but the question was fair.
"I can't believe three years ago I was dancing on stage with this guy at the Gramophone," spouts a cohort between gasps of belief. "And now I'm watching him sell out the Pageant."
I get a call from a telephone number with an unfamiliar area code. A brief, exponentially warm bump of dialogue rises as G-Eazy's PR assistant Andrew links me to a several second wait where I wonder if Andrew is in fact the world's softest golden retriever puppy.
St. Louis' Scottrade Center, (in layman's terms the House of Blues hockey), has the feel of pricey college stadium. It's large enough that one loses track of the merchandise booth's location, but small enough to save concertgoers the thigh-burning hikes of Busch Stadium.
tUnE-yArDs at the Ready Room stole the attendance award on Thursday night in St. Louis. As the Demo's neighbor nabbed heads for Merrill Garbus' looped avant-pop recital, Wampire stared down a mellow gathering of perhaps 25 fans. It's worth noting that October 7, 2014 was the release date for Wampire's sophomore effort "Bazaar." Few in that room, save for the band, seemed to be aware.
A primer: Volcanoes is a St. Louis dance-metal duo composed of stoic guitarist Jon Ryan and the delightfully spastic Eric Peters. After being sealed up for several semesters inside Lindenwood University (in St. Charles, Missouri), Volcanoes released "Heavy Hands" in 2012. The chugging, hyper-aggressive sing-speak, drum-and-guitar melodies were comely enough to assuage any eyebrows raised, and jittered about in beguiling, scattered memorandums on a breakup.
Rumors swirled through Atomic Cowboy that Skizzy Mars would swap set times with Miniature Tigers - headliners on the Cruel Pace Tour. Nose deep in Bloody Marys, my cohorts and I guzzled and zipped to the Demo for the show.
The Ready Room's luck has been rather rough, as in "The Perfect Storm"-like rough. Noise complaints that stemmed from the Grove's residents have kept the venue from carrying on freely like small-to-midsized joints located in surrounding neighborhoods. The venue survived a liquor license protest this week due to a lack of signatures from protesters. Still, the owners' have had to insulate its sound per resident request.
Winter is coming, and with the approach, a storm essay writer of fall shows designed to draw music fans out of their post-summer doldrums. Located at Plush, the Yacht and White Fang bill did very little to assuage the desire to go outside and seek solace in a cigarette. The two played a pair of jesters who cartwheeled around court with their tongues out and wagged before us cracked-out antics that were just irreverent enough for the audience to enjoy.