Generally speaking, I’m big on bar shows. I can dig the darkness, the oppressive fumes churned by rickety fans, the ancient bottles behind the bar, the subdued chattering of regulars on their molded stools. So, imagine my surprise when I walked into Mojo’s and was greeted not by the fumes of clove cigarettes or the wafting odor of stale beer soaked into the floorboard – but a room with lights blazing and the smell of Jamaican-style jerk chicken. Though the tropical atmosphere was only short-lived and the lights dimmed soon after I arrived, it was clear that this was to be an evening of (please indulge me on this – I need it) truly delicious proportions.
Before I embark on an attempt to capture the performance of Witch’s Hat, I should explain the nature of the Columbia band’s music. Rather than jumping upon any musical bandwagon – i.e. lame ones – the band has opted for subject matter and musical styling scantly touched upon in the music world: songs of great medieval battles, chivalrous knights, and precarious adventures on the high seas with a sound strangely reminiscent of old NES cartridges.
After they had tuned, the lead singers squatted before the drum, and with the first notes played by the band, his fist shot up into the air, following the same line as his ass crack that smiled from the seat of his pants like a great hairy beacon. From there, he catapulted himself about the stage, eyes popped and leering, arms stretched up and out like some manic composer. He galloped across the stage, the likeness of Eddie Van Halen trembling on his great gut, and he stretched out his arm as if he meant to tear the listeners from the confines of time and space and cast them into a medieval realm.
Really, if you take away nothing else, just keep this in mind: after a guitar string was broken, rather than just chatting with the audience, Witch's Hat launched into a rousing rendition of the theme song from Duck Tales.
As much as I tried, I simply couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm for the following band, Bald Eagle, another Columbia local. Perhaps it was the pair of obese people who may or may not have been having sex behind me (the sounds the woman made certainly lead me to believe it to be true), my newfound and unwanted proximity to the tower of speakers that loomed before me, or the inexplicable smell of burning hair whose source I continue to be puzzled by. Either way, my experience during the band’s set was less than extraordinary. In fact, as the set progressed, I began to compose a mental list of places I would rather be.
In spite of the fact that I wasn’t having anything to do with the music – and wanted them to get off the stage with every fiber of my being – those who had come to see them certainly had a splendid evening of entertainment, as evidenced by the mosh pit formed immediately in front of me. It occurred to me following the show that they were simply in the wrong environment. For listeners of both Witch’s Hat and Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, their semi-hardcore sound was harsh and relentless, striking a stark contrast with the music I must assume that most people had come for.
Unfortunately, because of the fact that my ears were ringing terribly following the second act (and continue to ring, two days following the show), by the time SSLYBY took the stage, some of my enthusiasm for them had been abated. The fact that the band had a number of technical issues for the first three songs or so certainly did not help the issue. (It occurred to me that there was substantial and irresistible irony in the lyrics of “Pangea” – one of the first songs played – “It’s always something...”)
However, as the ringing in my ears slightly subsided and the issues were cleared, the show became far more delightful. As the band began to really get their bearings, there was an instrument rotation: drummer Philip Dickey moved up to guitar, bassist Tom Hembree to drums, and singer/guitar John Robert Cardwell to bass. It was at this point that the show reached another level of excitement, most notably on “Oregon Girl” and “I Am Warm & Powerful.” It was also at that point that the band seemed to enjoy themselves far more, as evidenced by Dickey’s two running leaps across the stage, which were admirable since the stage is not actually large enough for leaps across the stage.
After Cardwell’s claim that “we can seriously play any riff Kurt Cobain ever played” and after the heat began to dissipate the energy present in the room, the band played their final song, “Anne Elephant” (which they had previously announced to be their very last song). While there were certainly a number of surprises, both pleasant and not, to be found in the night as a whole, it was certainly a night not to be missed.
