Live Review: Droids Attack and Kings Destroy in Brooklyn, 06.04.10
Posted in Reviews on June 7th, 2010 by H.P. Taskmaster
I guess I’d never seen Williamsburg on a Friday night before. I would’ve thought at some point I must have, but as I rolled down Bedford Ave. and bore witness to the hedonistic hipster fashion show — like something out of Valley of the Dolls, but sucky and pretending to be environmentally conscious at the same time — I swear I’ve never seen anything like it. Next-gen aristocrats everywhere pretending to be edgy for each other. The whole place smelled like sex, alcohol and axle grease. Get me the fuck out.
My timing was meh. I walked into the Charleston first as the band before was on and second after Droids Attack‘s set had already begun (I went to hide my head in the
meantime; here I’ll point out that my terror was all the worse in my surroundings because I wasn’t drinking). The “stage” was basically just the end of the room in the basement, which, as far as I’m concerned, rules. If there’s one redeeming value about a small show in New York, whether it’s at Lit Lounge, the Delancey, or back at Club Midway when they put on shows — and at countless others, I don’t doubt — is that the show is downstairs while the assholes are upstairs. I’ll take that every time.
The sound is never great in a basement, what with all the concrete, but the sound is never great anywhere and Droids Attack certainly made the most of it, guitarist/vocalist Brad Van playing through a new Orange amp as well as the Dr. Z you can hear on their Must Destroy album. Van had a couple extended solos and there was a sizable jam at the end of the set — take that, Mr. “This Is Your Last Song” Sound Guy — and bassist Nate Bush and drummer Tony Brungraber locked down killer grooves throughout the proceedings. The vibe was good times, irony and bullshit free, and Droids Attack rocked out with clear love for what they were doing. By the end of the set, I was up front.
It was getting late and I had a two-hour drive ahead of me (as opposed to the prior two-hour drive it took me to get to the Charleston in the first place), but Kings Destroy were quick in setting up their gear, so I managed to stay for their whole set and barely a minute longer. This was, I believe, their third show — remember the first? — and just between the two I’ve seen they already seem more established on stage. Carl Porcaro and Chris Skowronski, both on guitar, played a little slower than in Hoboken, giving an ultra-doom feel to the songs they didn’t have last time I heard them. I recognized a good portion of the material, which if I didn’t say this in my last review bodes well for the full-length to be recorded this summer, and though I wanted them to be a little louder (they were un-miked and competing with two guitar and bass amplifiers as well as the P.A.), Rob Sefcik‘s drums turned out to
make the night. Not too many frills in his playing, but a steady hand and some enticing fills that did well accenting Steve Murphy‘s vocals, which also felt more confident over the songs.
If I haven’t mentioned him yet, it’s only because bassist Ed Bocchino was a little lower in the overall mix than I would have liked — doom needs rumble — but that could just as easily be caused by the concrete eating the low end as by an amp needing to be turned up. I also noticed it with Nate Bush during Droids Attack‘s set, so it very well could have just been the room.
When I was over I shook hands and was out quick to hit the road. It was well past one in the morning and I’d be lucky to make it to Connecticut before three — which, luckily, I did — but even taking that into account, and even with the hipster douchery surrounding, I don’t regret having gone to the show. Smaller gigs like that are my favorite, being neither especially friendly nor able to see the charm in having beer spilled on my sandaled feet. The Charleston may have been beset on all sides, but the basement was like a fallout shelter and I was only to happy to soak up whatever sanctuary I could.
Coyote, Kayo Dot‘s fourth studio album, is a single, narrative-driven, long-form composition written with story and text provided by a close, terminally-ill friend of the band, Yuko Sueta, in the final stage of her life. Coyote was once again engineered by Randall Dunn (SunnO))), Earth, Six Organs of Admittance) in Seattle, Washington, forging a new genre of “goth fusion” which combines elements of early Cure, Faith and the Muse, and Bauhaus with Herbie Hancock‘s psychedelic album, Sextant, and Scott Walker‘s recent album, The Drift. The lyrics and story were constructed with deliberate melodrama to pay homage as well to the intended gothic vibe, expressing the protagonist’s loneliness and longing to be in a better place, and her journey through her own personal looking-glass through a hallucinatory world of fear and wonder.

When I proposed to 12 Eyes guitarist/vocalist Ryan Lynch the interview that follows, I pitched it to him as an exit interview, like human resources does when you leave a corporate job, to find out how your experience was working there. I wanted to know how 12 Eyes, now that they were leaving it, felt about the scene in their native NYC. With Lynch in the city proper and drummer Joe Wood (also of long-running sludge rockers Borgo Pass) and bassist Joe Rega out on Long Island, their perspective on Manhattan and beyond was bound to be worth investigation.
NOTE: Yeah, I know I didn’t write part one yet. I’m starting with Pt. 2. If you don’t like it, get your own damn website and number posts however you see fit. Now then…
albums, 2004′s The Awakening and 2006′s Suffer No Guilt, to no avail. Though 2008′s Conqueror didn’t do much for me in terms of repeat listens, my understanding was such that the two that came before were the way to go. Has yet to be seen (or heard, I suppose). In either case, the trio surprised the hell out of me by kicking all sorts of unholy trad doom ass on material both new and old, highlighting Conqueror cuts like “Trapped in the Web” while simultaneously promoting their forthcoming Rise Above debut, Hyms of Blood and Thunder (split your lungs therein). Skulleted guitarist/vocalist Karl Simon pulled emotive solo notes to new song “Descent into Madness” shortly after saying how glad he was people had come down to the show because he didn’t think anyone would show up, and if I wasn’t a fan before, I certainly was one by the time they were done with “The Ice Worm’s Lair.”
Though anytime I’m standing on the island of Manhattan, my mind automatically maps out the best possible route to Generation Records, the conditions that had me there yesterday — those being a day in the city with The Patient Mrs., as though an afternoon with my grumpy, lumbering ass is some kind of reward or break for her — prohibited it. A compromise in my head was a quick stop at Academy on 18th St., which I have it on good (and confidential) authority is where Spin sells their unwanted promos. I was hoping to catch an advance copy of that Six Organs of Admittance record I found out about the other night, and thankfully, she acquiesced.
digipak, which I already own. Easy mistake. Honestly I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before and wouldn’t be surprised if it happened again. Damn Sleep for being so desirable.
And that’s not just their first NYC show, it’s their first show ever, which just happens to be in NYC. If you missed it, Moth Eater 


