My night started out at the Beaumont Club, seeing the rhythmic “drum punk” collective Ad Astra Arkestra. In likely one of the most odd settings of the entire festival, the collaborative group on stage deserved a better backdrop and audience than the vastly unattended showcase in the stark vacuum of a venue for which they were given the opening slot. Numbering nearly a dozen members, the local group’s synergy was an undeniable force whose uncanny width and breadth of musical range was given a push toward visual absurdity. KC punk Mookie Ninjak served as the anti-hypeman, standing on stage drinking beer, playing with a cell phone, and generally embodying the same nonchalant attitude displayed by most of the crowd. By comparison, the eleven-piece Altos played at the same time to a packed Riot Room. Locale is key.
Venturing through Westport Coffeehouse down to their dark, carpeted basement is where I was able to witness a stripped-down version of The Caves. David Gaume and Elizabeth Bohannon were both out of the city/country, leaving only Andrew Ashby with an acoustic-electric guitar, and drummer Jacob Cardwell experimenting with other forms of percussion, hastened as they were with the somewhat last-minute set change. The duo played a short and ascetic set that borne upon the audience new songs from the next two (!) albums, and tunes from their debut EP with a naked melancholy akin to David Bazan. To reference my comment in the first paragraph, I could not have imagined seeing the two at any other place in town without coming across as inorganic and contrived.
After the crushing realization that I had missed all but the last 30 seconds of Capybara‘s set, I made my way over to Gusto with minutes to spare before the fantastic Ghosty began playing. I’m a bit embarrassed by this admission, but as a follower since 2005’s Grow Up or Sleep In, this was the very first time I had ever been able to coordinate my life to be in the same room while they were playing. I know, I know. And if that weren’t bad enough, front man Andrew Connor and I worked together for nearly two years. My being a terrible co-worker and local music fan aside, the trio of Connor with Billy Belzer on drums and Mike Nolte on bass splashed a remarkably lilting and shimmering pop against the Gusto’s dilapidated, century-old brick interior. Though much of the set contained songs written and recorded in the last three years, their delivery is as timeless as the classic (power)pop influences that drive the band to continually release some of the most profoundly impressive work this side of the Mississippi River.
Columbia, MO, indie rockers Believers drew me to the Riot Room later in the evening, and with me I dragged a few of my friends. The band performed well, and sounded adequate in the venue, but overall fell a bit flat compared to the great production quality of their recently released debut. In the thick of the casual conversations and clinking of pint glasses taking place all around the room, the complexities of the band’s sound was ultimately lost in a muddle of noise pollution. This resulted in the group’s otherwise immense creation being reduced to a pattering of drums and a yelp of inaudible lyrics. I ended up leaving their set early just so my first experience seeing them live wouldn’t be tainted by a distracted audience.
Back to Gusto, The ACB’s made the bar two-for-two on quality sets from established local acts. That this band also contains Ghosty’s Andrew Connor is inconsequential, as he only provides one part of the flourishing powerpop quartet led by the charming falsetto of Konnor Ervin. The setlist has not changed much in the three times I’ve seen them in the last six months (with “My Face” and “You Did It Once” among those being played), but the band continues to add more and more new songs to the list, and each one that is revealed has that much more rump-shaking funk than the last. The band surprised with an addition of the hit that never was by playing “Suzanne,” and “Be Professional,” the first single from the band’s sophomore effort. Even more surprising was the inclusion of a flared-up rendition of Matthew Sweet’s “Sick of Myself” in the latter half. I thought it impossible, but the new album may end up being even better than the last.
I chose Mission of Burma at the RecordBar to close out my second night, because who else could you really see after watching a band that first started playing together over thirty years ago? The Boston punk band formed in 1979 and played so extensively that they broke up in 1983 due to co-founder Roger Miller acquiring a nasty case of tinnitus. The band reformed in 2002 (with Shellac’s Bob Weston joining Miller, Clint Conley and Peter Prescott) and have been active since (releasing a new album this very year, in fact), but it goes without saying that almost every single person in the room was there to hear songs from Vs. and the Signals, Calls and Marches EP. The audience was not let down, as the band hammered through 70 minutes of brash post-punk that was easily a key influence for every other musician in the room that was not already on stage. The highlights? As if there were any other possibilities, the amusing “That’s When I Reach For My Revolver,” and a set closer of the punk classic “Academy Fight Song,” complete with the rather inebriated singing along by the audience.
This review was written for Lost in Reviews.