The Almighty Defenders / Neon Indian / Cale Parks
Root Studios; Brooklyn NY


Maybe it was the open bar. Or maybe everyone was just too weary of industrial posturing by Saturday of CMJ week to spend another night trying to make networking fun. In any case, this show, put together through the unlikely partnership of a men's clothing store, a party promotion juggernaut, and a nondescript photo studio somehow managed to put forward a great lineup and an atmosphere devoid of pretension, one that thankfully wasn't overly saturated in commercial tomfoolery.

The evening began with {Cale Parks} and his newly assembled three-piece band. Perhaps unsurprising in light of his past work as a percussionist with Aloha and Joan of Arc, his solo act was heavy on things that you hit. It brought to mind both the synthetic side of Yeasayer and the organic side of Depeche Mode, and alternating between electronic and acoustic drums, Parks showed an attention to texture that gave away his classical training. While not exactly dance music, the songs were solicitous of dance and, despite forays into the sorts of dark territory that are part and parcel of a Depeche Mode comparison, set a lighthearted tone.

Consciously or not, {Neon Indian} adopted the same jovial atmosphere as they took the stage. Like Parks, Neon Indian's Alan Palomo has only recently put together a full band to carry his work into a live setting, and while Park's band were no slouches visually or musically, Palomo's band looked pitch-perfect and sounded equally polished. While their record contains moments of funky effervescence, the straight-up Prince biting of their live show is something else. And, between the guitarist's flowing locks and keyboardist's impeccable strapless dress and coiffure, they not only sound like the New Power Generation, they even sort of look like them. Makes you wonder why anyone bothered coining a phrase like "glo-fi" to describe Neon Indian. Are we that disenchanted with funk, pop, and R&B?

As great as Neon Indian may have been, though, expectations were even higher for a rare appearance from the Black Lips/King Khan/BBQ Show gospel rave up that an {Almighty Defenders} performance promised. While the "will this particle accelerator cause a black hole" energy of a Lips show was diluted slightly, the meeting of minds produced a kinetic and oddly serious performance. Not that what these guys do on stage isn't usually serious, as in "serious violence" or "serious drinking," but this was surprising. Donning ecclesiastical robes, the juxtaposition of attire against Khan's shark tooth necklace, Cole Alexander's pederast mustache and Ian St. Pe's gold grill, was comical. But as the Motown-meets-psycho-blues tunes gave way to a genuinely affecting impression of fire-and-brimstone preaching from Joe Bradley -- complete with actual Bible -- I wondered if the religious angle wasn't so much a joke as another way to point at ecstatic chaos.