No Way Fest
Cloak Dagger
Govermant Warning
Caustic Christ
Sick Pleasure
Alley Katz, Richmond, VA
Summer 2007
By Jillian Abbene
(SugarBuzz Wash DC/Richmond)
CLOAK/DAGGER
www.myspace.com/wearecloakdagger
In anticipation of their first CD, “We Are—Cloak/Dagger,” I have been curious about this Richmond band. Not paying attention, the crowd snaps alert as the set starts off as Jason, lead vocalist, instigates heaves from his entire body to ‘Dagger, Dagger.’ In shakened quivers of exerted adrenaline, odd-chord signatures hit a refreshing note of side-saddled hardcore with bolstered pop. This is a great start.
I was blown away by, ‘Bended Knee,’ with fiercing drum circles in sick-fast speed from Colin, positioning a great guitar/bass precision, that doesn’t sludge, drag or slow, leaving Jason to his own vocal devices. Between pang-pang of drum and bass-manifested chops, this song is made intentionally for slamming-furied chaos across stage to crowd.
In steady momentum, ‘Hollywood Hills,’ breaks into a heavy-dirgy bass-plunk. Aaron bends back and forth like an uncontrolled willow tree, while styling fiery red hair. Infuriated driven guitar by brother, Collin, breaks into short chords, adding variety. Guitar chords and emphasized cymbal, slugs a punch after each verse. The now surfaced chunk chords are packed into lead guitar spin-offs that has the front stage kids leaping on the barrier. Bleeding into the next song, without taking a breathe, ‘Jesus Christ’ Pays The Bills,’ comes on like a sparring spree—with a fast tempo and a long beginning with guitar only-–in scratched and oddly-beated melee of chords bringing the drum beat to an M8 and rips into the chorus, ‘Jesus Christ Pays The Bills.’ With not a second to spare, as this song clocks in with less than one-hot minute, it’s done.
Following with, ‘Set The Alarm,’ executed choiced staccatoed chords steadies with the inclusion of ‘woh’s’ as Jason forces verbiage on, “it’s my way, self-destruction,” rising up on a belly-growl through guitar syncopations and short-circuiting to a stop.
Hard-etched vocals are to the forefront with, ’Sunburnt Mess.’ Running along the same vein as The Bronx—riddled with driven chords over melody, this song doesn’t miss a beat on a roll-on-steady cadence and Jason hopping around on one-foot with switches as Collin, lead guitar, leans into the speaker creating an entanglement of post-punk feedback.
In, ‘New Year’s Resolution,’ Cloak/Dagger saves the best for last as guttural growls along harmony-chords up with Aaron adding back-ups. In the middle of fuzz-drones, odd-noted guitar chords appear to only veer off and tangent into bleated notes, ending the entire set in anticipated musical chaos.
Note: [You can purchase their CD, “We Are—Cloak/Dagger,” at www.jadetree.com]
GOVERNMENT WARNING
www.myspace.com/governmentwarningrva
By the time Cloak/Dagger finished their set, the crowd has eased to the front of the stage, with no room to spare. Government Warning are home-towners, and hell, most of the front row are their friends. The crowd is certainly ripe ‘n ready as Kenny, the lead vocalist, stumbles out in ‘80’s style “Risky Business” sunglasses. Although Kenny seems to not feel well, the band crashes into the first song, ‘Arrested,’ creating an uproar where there is a clear connection from band to crowd.
‘Trend City,’ cranks in, giving the set a little kick in the ass as Kenny leans with both hands on the mike stand, holding his weight up, and then shoving his body and mike to the front of the stage and into the crowd. The rest of the band isn’t fazed. Steady 3-chord guitar strums from Eric and shark-like bass lines from Alex erupt within the second verse, obliterating into Brandon’s crazy-fast drum rolls and high-squealing guitar. Naturally, the crowd bursts into all-out circle-pit slamming.
With only a brief reprieve, ‘Fat Nation,’ is a crowd favorite. Friends leap over and on top of each other in glee to participate in vocal fits of passion—where this song seems to hit all the pressure points. The energy is now reaching peak which encourages Kenny, despite feeling a bit green around the gills, to persevere and the rest of the band to kick out the rest of the jams. Choice chord progressions and building crescendo halts to a stop, leaving Kenny to fish out the mike stand from the crowd.
I won’t even mention about the stupid fuck who decided to throw an entire can of trash into the pit. All I can see is he needs his ass kicked. Enough said.
Moving on to, ‘No Moderation,’ their entitled CD, three-fourths of the crowd is either in the pit or jumping in for some serious crowd surfing. Those driving chords and forefront drums keeps Kenny’s bark steady over the melee, as the song hits a 1/3 chord-jump and ends in a hard stop. ‘Jocks N Cops,’ changes the tempo to a slow gurgle with a sludgier chord base. The pit slows along with the beat as the song bursts into a fury of energy along with the circling pit. Kenny’s clipped-sharp barks slow down just enough to hear the ending lyrics, “Fuck you assholes.” I glance over and spot the bouncer belting out the words in unison.
By the last song, ‘No Way Out,’ the crowd is lubed and primed. Kenny is giving it all—slingshotting from the side of the stage to the other. Massive circling, massive vocal chorus, and massive stage diving has it all crashing to silence with clapping and cheers, setting the perfect stage for Sick Pleasure.
CAUSTIC CHRIST
Although these guys have only been around since 2000, there is no denying that this band kills any credence appealing to the politically correct. Caustic Christ owns their own chunk of DIY, dirgey Thrash.
Alley Katz is packed from bottom to the balcony, and the atmosphere floats heavily with sparked energy—like the anticipation of the weather forecast calling for a hellacious storm. By the time the band steps up on stage, their expressions on their faces are nothing but straight-faced, tight-lipped, and steely glares. Ramrodding into the first song, ‘Sadist Society,’ a compressing throttle assembled in a ‘Black Flag’ wall of sound, supercharging the audience into the first tune. Eric takes full control on stage as the tight synchronized rhythm and bass pulls no punches. Now, the crowd inches closer.
‘In The War Has Come Home,’ the onlookers are now head banging mode as the tune speeds up into an all-out fury in verse, until the chorus—that lulls—then breaks into a great steady beat. Faking out the listeners, Bill, the lead guitarist, scribbles a beautiful, scratched lead riff. Here, Eric begins to slow down the tempo just enough for the band to hand over a second wind of adrenaline to the end.
One of the highlights of the show came on during ‘Dead World.’ This darts across the stage from behind the drum kit to dive blindly into the sea of crowd. It was really awesome! Witnessing that alone deserves claps from me.
Ripping a new hole in Classic, ‘The Caustic Curse,’ begins with Bill--jumping on the catchy tempoed guitar screech along with drolled bass, and pounding drum combo. It is now that Eric is armed in fierce agitation. In the first verses, he busts open the groove to carve out the base with awesome lyrics. That is what I like about Eric’s voice. You can really hear what he is trying to convey. On the second verse over screeching guitars and drum, the song stops and Eric leans back to let loose a long gnarly-glaciered, gurgling growl. Wow—stopping with only a cymbal tap left as evidence with ending in the lines, “against my will.” The animals are let out of their cage.
I do remember there was an encore song, ‘Mirror Punching.’ This is the kind of song that moves in blistering pace and added verse-jumps and bass plucks and I had to listen to it a couple of times on CD to digest it. Demonic grave-digging rhythm and shot-gun drum beats, only makes me want to reach for a bottle of antidepressants and bandages to wrap around the gargantuan sound.
To wrap it up, it ends in empted claps from slammers in front, and a massive stunted cymbal crash.
With Caustic Christ still rolling out the hard-lined tunes, it just goes to show you how another band legitimizes the staying power of punk rock.
SICK PLEASURE (CA)
www.myspace.com/foolscantbreakme
Primed and ready, the audience is still carrying the energy from Caustic Christ’s set. Nikki Sikki (also lead vocalist for Verbal Abuse), literally prances on stage in pre-show happy-buzz humor that could have been read as more of a drunken jester than a guiltless frontman. Wearing a t-shirt that says, “I Hate Everybody,” he picks up a crushed half-smoked cigarette, stuffs it between his lips, and lights it. As the members of Government Warning appear to fill in as the Sick Pleasure crew, they team up to pay tribute to a band that has been defunct since 1982. I find this impressive and brave.
With the openings of, ‘Three Seconds To Pleasure,’ a straight-on rhythm is noted (minus some of the original unique fuzz-squeaks), as Government Warning’s style is snapped in place. Nikki weaves in and out of the crowd, leaning over the stage ledge, gripping the stage mike, and barking fierce vocals in focused stance.
He’s a natural. Effortlessly, his sharp-raspy clarity projects in talent. The image of the drunken jester is cancelled out as the second song, ‘I Wanna Burn My Parents,’ begins. Keeping with the post punk indigenous feedback and a spastic scratch riff, part of the song structure and plodding chords have skate-punk elements. There are no attempts of paraphrasing here. Nikki belts out staccato-defiant lyrics as the Government Warning crew emanate the I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, all with gargantuan sound. In, ‘Try To Break Me,’ an impromptu audience member joins Nikki on vocals – complete with both in kneeling position, hands are braced on the stage floor, and with eyes shut, screaming the verses into the stationery mike. This closes out the song. It was intense.
Introducing the song, ‘Herpes Virus 2,’ Nikki is in true form. Breaking into the first verse of the song, he drops trou—along with his boxers, cupping his exposed, “prized possessions.” As I glanced over to observe, a front line of youngsters are stunned. For me, this doesn’t surprise me—as this is in keeping time with the old-school antics I remember from the 80’s, [for those who remember Absence of Malice]. I regurgitated a spontaneous guffaw at the spectacle. Continuously singing, he yanks up his boxers. In between, out of nowhere, a half-filled beer can clobbers Nikki on the side of his face. He isn’t fazed as an ignited flurry of empty water bottles and debris is hurled in his direction. Barking out the rest of the song, he ends it in a mischievous grin, with his pants still wrapped around his ankles.
At this point, the rest of the set is kicked up a notch. By the time the last song, ‘Sick Pleasure,’ erupts, Nikki’s t-shirt is ripped and draping off one shoulder. Stumbling around on stage, he successfully makes a feeble attempt to maintain…even until the end.