Lash Out
Opening act Lash Out kicked off the evening with some effortless swagger and a no-nonsense performance. The band took the crowd on a musical journey that veered into multiple styles of what constitutes “rock” without losing a sense of cohesion. Lead singer and guitarist Taylor Swietanski led fellow bandmates Tessa, Caiden, and Dan through a tight set of alternative melodies, drawing from a well of influences from Speedy Ortiz to Courtney Barnett, Pavement, and The Cure.
Stylistically, they remain planted in the realm of the 90s alternative greats, but the unique guitar chord progressions and wildly dynamic synth sounds evoke everything from 60s psychedelia to Zack de la Rocha’s one-off project One Day as a Lion. And when one of the members wanders into new territory, the rest of the band serves as anchors, which is made particularly true with Taylor’s stoic presence up front, guiding them back to the sonic through-lines that hold it all together.
In the midst of the diverse set, we were also treated to an interlude in which drummer Tessa took over lead vocals to verbally sprint through a rap that was credited at the end to Andy Milonakis. We were also informed of their secondary function as a Hannah Montana cover band, though they promised to still perform originals, which will serve to be their next show at Silk City. And then, they ended on a cover of Charli XCX and Troye Sivan’s “1999.” Hell yeah.
There’s a sense of quiet, playful chaos in how Lash Out presents themselves, and it fosters an air of mystery, creating a sense of wonder and curiosity for what they might do next. It feels unpredictable, and the possibilities feel pretty limitless. This “we do what we want because we want to do it” attitude creates a profound sense of endearment and authenticity. It’s refreshing to see an act not curated to be anything other than exactly themselves. There’s no qualifying any of it, either. There’s zero irony or pretentiousness on display. It’s all just borne of a sincere, authentic love for what they do, which is to say something they do quite well: Play good music.
KulfiGirls
Well, damn.
KulfiGirls is a band that I don’t know how to succinctly describe as far as style or genre. Is prog-alternative a thing? Regardless, the most important descriptor I think is simply: excellence.
Lead singer Abi began the set perched on the front of the stage, playing the veena while singing with a voice that harnesses the power of a warrior goddess. The ethereal, swirling soundscape and powerful vocals felt like the introduction to some great cinematic epic. And while it wasn’t a movie, their set proved to be its own kind of odyssey.
Diving right into the rock-and-roll energy that persisted throughout the night, KulfiGirls showcased a surgical degree of precision in both live performance and songwriting. It’s no easy task to draw on such a diverse soundscape of influences and then create a cohesive whole that doesn’t end up tripping over itself. With KulfiGirls, the diversity of sounds only enhanced the experience, creating a sense of musical storytelling as opposed to a sense of genre-hopping whiplash. This is a band that not only offers something unique, but their ability to balance sophisticated songwriting, a wide array of influences, and an incredibly tight, technically proficient performance creates a truly unique experience to witness.
KulfiGirls are able to weave a sonic narrative that hypnotizes from start to finish. From guitarist Joan’s perfectly subtle shredding and heavy riff-making, both of which are injected at the exact right moments, to the powerhouse drumming of Adesola and the melodic basslines brought by Stephanie (who also played flute), the band creates a perfect blend of rocking out, while injecting a sense of awe, wonder, and magic. Led by Abi’s absolutely mesmerizing vocals and periodic visits back to the veena at the foot of the stage, the entire ordeal felt explosive, intimate, and profound all at once.
Wax Jaw
I’m not sure what I could possibly say about Wax Jaw at this point that everyone doesn’t already know…
The sky is blue, water is wet, and Wax Jaw fucking rocks. I know they rock, you know they rock, and they know they rock.
Wax Jaw is a band with a sky-high reputation and a dedicated fan base. There’s no hidden reason why; it’s simply borne of an ability to not only write some excellent punk-infused alt-rock, but to then go play it as loud and as energetic as possible with relative frequency all across town. They’re the kind of band that could get a pit going at a corporate retreat, the middle of Sunday mass, or in the TSA line at the airport. So it’s no surprise they sold out Johnny Brenda’s Saturday night and nearly brought the house down in what felt like a literal sense.
From the moment they took the stage to the moment the encore ended, the crowd was rowdy and ready, proving that the ultimate form of catharsis for many of us is loud-as-hell rock and roll music performed with intensity and passion. The band’s energy is electrifying in ways that seem mystical. From guitarist George Fenton’s many visits into the pit to Ben Manning’s pounding drumming, Greg Blanc’s locked-in bass shredding, and Sean Vannata’s guitar solos (and possible demonic musical possession from each of them), the band started dialed up to max volume and then pushed past it into worlds unknown.
But, of course, the final, crowning piece of what makes Wax Jaw its great whole is the fire and passion of frontperson Shane Morgan, who engages in never-ending stage antics that range from flexing to dancing to punching the air to fierce battle cries. Each movement serves to perfectly align with the vocal delivery, the lyrical point being made, and what is essentially the creation of a synced-up visual guide for the emotions of their musical expression. Morgan’s delivery never wanes, and the ferocity of the performance only seems to cascade in its intensity as the set progresses into the night. And then, of course, there’s the ultimate punk-rock party trick: Morgan riding atop Vannata’s shoulders and into the pit during the final song of the evening. Morgan evokes a level of explosiveness that embodies the purity of punk rock to its most authentic core.
And speaking of authenticity and punk ethos, there was little room to catch your breath. Throughout the set, the (very) brief banter between guitarists was rating the audience’s energy on a 10-point scale and requesting that it be brought to a 10. From an initial 8 to a midpoint, reassessed 9.8, I’m pretty sure the crowd succeeded by night’s end as there wasn’t a single dull or quiet moment the entire night.
After their main set ended, the band quickly returned to the stage and dove into an excellent cover of Amyl and the Sniffers’ “Control.” For the final two songs of the encore set, the floor was shaking, and I wondered about the structural integrity of this legendary venue that has no doubt seen its fair share of high-intensity moshing over the years. But I guess if I were to be crushed by a collapsing building in the name of rock and roll, it would be a pretty good way to go.
Luckily, we were all fine and live to rock another day.
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