Far From Finished
The Rocks
Richmond, VA
By Jillian Abbene
(SugarBuzz Wash DC/Richmond)
SugarBuzz Magazine
Good God! Boston keeps birthing stellar punk bands. Noticeably, there is a formula that these bands seem to posses: beef, talent and balls. Far From Finished has that.
Last October, they performed to a scarce Richmond crowd--due to the lack of advertising from a different venue. So when The Rocks snatched up their offer of an impromptu gig on their way up north, the venue was more than obliged to extend the invite. It was not only out of sheer principal for me to write a review, but because they have great stead-fast catchy songs. I wanted to “make good” as they say here in Virginia. They’ve earned great praise and definitely have earned their stripes. This gig proved sweeter the second time around.
Much like their Boston comrades, The Ducky Boys, The Scars, and The Street Dogs, Steve Neary, (vocalist) and Mark Cannata (drummer) paint collaborated street punk scenarios to lyric. Description-specific to the real struggles of normal blue collar life, and clears visions on relative subject matter has snowballed them into the next tier in the scene here and abroad. Issues such as: victims of circumstance from hypocrisies and tragedies are written as life’s lessons. This means to persevere, but never settle. Although disheartenedness has been the common theme, Far From Finish is able to convey the frustration in song and lyric. Offering a unique way to pass angst messages as an alternative route to coping with injustices and ridiculousnesses within our society, they serve it right back with due diligence. Their positive attitude and energy is an integral key to the band’s success—on their CD and in live versions.
This night in particular was colder than a witch’s tit. Bundled up, I enter into the unique closed-in patio inside the guts of The Rocks. Lined around the stage with kerosene heaters cranking and ablazed, there is a warm and cozy nostalgia. Tonight the ambiance welcomes camaraderie, a well prescribed remedy to the post-holiday blues.
There is a much larger gathering than last October, as FFF opened with, ‘1849,’ from their newest CD, “Living In The Fallout.” Steve is hyper as ever from the first note. His lyrics are clear and scratchy-sharp with no signs of strain, and even over the whirr of the kerosene heaters, he is not distracted as he croaks and croons with no lament. Consolidating drums with vocals, splices up higher-harmony tempos into a thematic gang chorus. Moving into a switch of a slower tempo, chunk chords are inserted above drum and bass. On their next song, ‘Roses and Razorblades,’ the M8 creates an open window for Steve to really show off his ability to slice through a song, but this time in slower-cadence. Lyrics focus on positive life lessons learned--that in a calloused world, life could always be worse, so appreciate for what you got.
With no signs of losing ground, the catchy-crooning deliveries in, ‘9 Lives,’ has Steve squinting to keep the sweat from rolling into his kerosened-dry eyes. The urgency of chunk lead-breaks on guitar riffs with heavy drums adds more fuel for Steve who is now crazily jumping repeatedly from stage to crowd which proves successful in riling up the crowd, judging by the cheers of the audience. Ready to roll--from start to finish—this is no warm up session. These guys are jacked up and revved all up on the first queue.
‘Wanna Be a Catastrophe,’ starts differently live than on their CD. Acoustic strokes on guitar, chords into medium-tempoed riffs and double-downed beats. Utilizing leverage on the energy, vocals jump an octave leaving room for the guitar to sling-out a rock-n-roll bite riff, ending in Steve’s blunt and solitary lyrics, “…you fucking cunt,” which ends as the last line of the song.
‘Lost In The Rain,’ from their previous CD, “Eastside to Nowhere,” is a claim of a different variety. It is this variety that makes this my favorite. Slowly opening in circus-keyboard solitude, one-bang chord instantly shifts to a wall of fast-tempos brimming with energy, and the crowd picks up the pace with instant slamming down in the pit. Despite a change to a mid-tempo beat, fierce and crisp lead guitar riffs draws energy-fueling emotion through the rest of the set.
Switching the format up in, ‘Bastards Way,’ hard drums in stuttered rat-a-tats leaves an inlet to sullen keyboard interlocking in contrast as a melancholy element. Staccatoed guitar pluckings now take over. On bended knee, both eyes are closed tightly, and Steve is croak-crooning with unquestionable conviction: “…I don’t want your pity/I don’t want your bullshit lies/I don't want your opinions on the faults of my life/You can talk all you want/but don’t hear what you say/I’m an unforgiving prick/I’m just living the bastard’s way.” I wasn’t sure if he was referring to himself or someone else, but lyrics like these add that little extra grate of visualization as a small victory. Thumbing-up to society’s pressures and bullshit is subject everyone can relate to!
‘Destination Nowhere,’ and, ‘Living In The Fall Out,’ are probably the most memorable songs on CD and live. The familiar melancholic diligence and scowly urgency buckshots with the bomp-beats of drum wrapping around the entire melody. Steve again is immersed in the crowd, and is very comfortable in testimonying in verse, “…dragged through the shit again.” Again, it’s these kinds of snapshot verses that leave behind a painted and pointed finger print on my memory.
Going all out on the last song, gang chorus jots over backup vocals in, ‘Heroes & Ghosts,’ which noticeably reminds me of an early Mike Ness flashback hybrid. As the drum crescendos, the lead guitarist, Adam Porris takes over to string the last few bars of the song with the rest of the band. Squeezing out the very last drop, it all ends into a clammering stop.
[Note: My impression of this show is that their songs are tailor-specific for each listener— and this is just judging by the crowd’s reactions. Roots of relentless energy cannot restrain the participating fist-pumping-chorus in the crowd to experience a spot-on live show. For me, the lyrical hard-hitting tug on my heart strings, and their improvved stead-fast energy makes Far From Finish just what their name stands for—and just what the doctor ordered.]
http://www.farfromfinished.com