Once upon a time, we were in a band that played DC9. It was, other than a basement party performance for sympathetic friends, our first show, and we took to the stage, that on which we'd seen so many of our friends play, with abject terror. We also felt a healthy portion of gratitude to the good folks at the club who'd seen fit to allow us to play their tidy venue, with its ample stage space and upstairs bar. DC9 was, for us, a nice little place where local groups got their start, and we loved it. But it was with new eyes that we looked upon the little club on 9th last night. Over the past year, DC9 has significantly added to its A/V equipment, greatly improved the sound, and brought in steadily more significant acts, while still catering to the local up-and-comers, and in doing so, it has placed itself at the top of the list of DC's small rock venues. You heard it here: DC9 is a venue on the grow.

And last night, Big Yawn went and filled the joint with some great music.

Cause Co-Motion
Somewhere in Brooklyn, there's a factory where they assemble stray hipsters into New York bands. All day long, a conveyor belt carries tight jeans, black spectacles, and guitars into a nondescript building, while trucks pull away from the loading docks on the half hour, filled with rollicking four-on-the-floor rock bands playing happy punk with their backs to the audience. And you know what? That's all right with me. Four kids playing affected garage rock may not blow the critics' hair back, but it's a hell of a way to start a rock show.

Love is All
DC9 has turned into a great place to see a band play, but the truth of the matter is this: the next time Love is All comes huffing and puffing into the district, the doors they'll be blowing down will be a few blocks away, and there will be line of cash-flashing audiophiles trying see what the fuss is about. We all have those moments where serendipity strikes, and we find ourselves in improbably small venues with improbably good bands, and the distilled musical goodness gets in everybody's veins like a strong drink, and people are inexplicably grinning and dancing, and everyone walks away smiling, telling friends they had to be there. We're telling you folks, it was like that.

The Swedish five-piece played fast and precise, with a chirpy female lead-singer that did time on the cowbell and mixed her voice well with the guitarist and bassist. There is a saxophonist, which tends to make rock fans wary, but he kept his sound balanced well within the whole, which was powered by a foot-stomping, Franz Ferdinand disco beat. At the end, we figured these guys were doing reconnaisance. They're here checking out the five star hotels and posh martini bars, because when they come back to conquer the world sometime next summer, they're definitely going to need to know where all that shit is. We're just pleased as punch that they decided to play a DC show in the mean time.

The Caribbean
DCist has already (and recently) laid down the dope on these guys and their latest release Plastic Explosives. In our humble opinion, these guys play some very creditable music. Sadly for the Caribbean, who represented the D.C. at last night's Big Yawn event, it was destined to be a somewhat anticlimactic evening. Much of the crowd, giddy and spent after experiencing the Love, retreated to the bar or the back of the room for a cigarette, leaving the group with a diminished (and talkative) audience of questionable attentiveness. It was, nonetheless, a solid performance by the band. The music was tight and beautiful, and the three-piece managed its dizzying array of equipment with skill and aplomb. But it was not really the Caribbean's night; it was not a moment for quiet and nuance and thoughtful vocals. Which is all right, because Ecclesiastes and the Byrds say that every dog will get its share of the sunshine, and all of that, and in the end, Big Yawn and DC9 really put together a smashing night of music.

And we anxiously await the next one.