The Black Lips @ Black Cat
DCist music editor Amanda Mattos once said that the term 'local band' "usually softens up our critical senses." As long as a band stays local, that is 100 percent correct. But once a band starts to blow up on a national level, the term 'local show' takes on a different connotation entirely. There is a certain expectation that the local shows have more energetic crowds, cooler guest appearances and better performances all around. As such, every performance I've seen by The Black Lips since moving away from Atlanta has been inherently disappointing.
Admittedly, I missed last March's reportedly raucous show, and the crowd at June's Raconteurs shows (where the Black Lips opened) had probably never heard of the Atlanta flower punks, much less their reputation for bizarre and repulsive onstage hijinks. Still, the prior Black Cat experience, in 2007, was comparatively tame after having previously been spat on, covered with feathers, and drenched by airborne half-full PBR tallboys.
But something clicked this time around. The energy of the tissue tossing, body slamming crowd fed the band's onstage charisma. Although singer/guitarist Cole Alexander still made cracks about the band being unable to play their instruments, he proved it patently untrue as he broke into wild scuzzy guitar solos amid lunges across stage right. In fact, Joe Bradley's drumming was a particularly impressive anchor to their Stooges-meets-Ventures garage rock anthems, especially considering that he thrashes his head about like Animal from the Muppets, while doing lead vocals on songs like "Buried Alive" and "Not a Problem." It was hard not to appreciate his skill, even while being accosted by elbows.
The set, which drew more from their previous albums than recent release 200 Million Thousand showcased The Black Lips at their tightest. In fact, one of the few 200 Million Thousand tracks that they did play, "I'll Be With You", felt almost unnecessary, since it sounded almost identical to live staple "Dirty Hands", which they'd already played.
The set was still enough to inspire the crowd to madness. Everyone at a Black Lips show already understands that the music in and of itself is worth a listen and actually sings along to the words. But people go to the front of a Black Lips show to see bassist Jared Swilley swing from the rafters and inch his bass over everyone's heads. People go crazy at Black Lips shows because of the music, but go crazier once Alexander sprays the smoke machine over the audience before ignoring the "Stage Divers will Be Removed" sign on their monitor. The Black Lips left without an encore, leaving all of their grit and spit on the stage and delivering a show in D.C. worthy of their appearances in Atlanta.
Their opener, Gentleman Jesse and His Men, also brought a rather impressive vintage rock 'n' roll sound from Atlanta to the Black Cat. The nattily dressed Jesse Smith growled atop guitar riffs that recalled the classic guitarists of the '50s like Chuck Berry while keeping a little bit of the gritty garage sound of the headliners. They didn't try to fix what wasn't broken about the vintage sounds they drew from, making power pop that sounded more power with just the right spoonful of pop.