Young Widows
The Camel
Richmond, VA
May 2007
By Jillian Abbene
(SugarBuzz Wash DC/Richmond)
There is a brand new venue in Richmond called, ‘The Camel.’ Although it is a small venue housing mainly indie college students who are looking for a change of scenery, ambiance of the wooden floors adds to the experience. Fifteen to twenty onlookers surround the stage as the band introduces, ‘Settle Down City,’ their new circulating CD. Mutual fondness is reciprocated as Evan, the lead vocalist, states has repeatedly added Richmond to their tour, much like today, introducing their post-punk brooded rock.
Hard chunks are magnified by hollow floors and sparse crowd, engulfing the room with the opener, ‘Mirrorfucker.’ Demolishing all aspects of known generated post-punk and indie, unconventional bundles of bludgeoning mid-tempo tunes are received in canyon-amounts over cliffs of hollowed out thunderous and trudged guitars. ‘Almost Dead Beat,’ has all the elements that gives post punk its allure—with Evan, in a murky-somber mooded stance, dismissing lyrical political correctness and shoving reality into the ears of the listener. In one micro-second, I am sucked into the angular void of fuzzed-dirgy guitars and descending cymbal crashes. Following the unsuspecting short bursts chanting, damning lyrics about an eavesdrop from the neighbor’s floor below of secreted abuse, is effectively poignant. Sterling-precision framing of ominous distant singled-notes weave in and out. Geof caves in deep hefty thuds on drums, side by side with patched-cymbals and Nick’s low bass.
Things were very serious in that room, as was I—with Evan introducing, ‘Charmers,’ as Nick chunks it up with syrup thick bass and drum colliding together in boxed-in layers—hammering repeats with shouts into silence. At the end of this song I was suddenly drained and dry-eyed as the high volume adds to the intense over stimuli.
‘Formerer,’ trades in everything for the magnified. From strategically placed guitar containing freehanded vocals, the sound pounds a block of metal M8’s that drop into stomps, starts and stops in split seconds, and links another a separate mini m8--all ending up with drum and a one-chord echo. This has wiped the smile off of the remaining of the onlooker’s faces. After this song, I almost feel numb—as if someone punched a bruise so many times the nerves were damaged. I must be sadistic…because I really liked it.
Interestingly enough, as each song ends abruptly, the bass player is into it as much as the guitarist, Evan. The drummer, Geof, hell—he’s just as into it as Evan and Nick. Separately, I don’t think they could stand a chance as being half as successful as they are collectively. Like spotting a $20 bill from across a busy street, I snatch up their CD. With good advice I say, ‘Go check these guys out!