This show kicked ass, by the way. Didn't like Thee Snuff Project much (they need to learn how to put a bridge or two in a song), but the rest of the show was a *lot* of fun. Actually, I think Washington Social Club stole the show. They were the tightest I've ever seen (okay, I've only seen them twice before).
The Carlsonics were really good, and obviously having a fantastic time. I hope this album gets some play and they get a bit of support. It was a pretty big crowd, so they're obviously doing something right around town.
Good, good stuff. Even the Washington Post agrees (from today's paper):
The Carlsonics
Who says D.C.'s indie-rock scene has to be dominated by joyless, self-conscious artists? Not the fun-loving and frenetic Carlsonics, that's for sure. "We're just a rock band, we're not doing anything new," lead singer Aaron Carlson told a good-size crowd that turned out at the Black Cat on Friday night at a release party for the group's first full-length CD.
In an age when groups relentlessly hype their own importance, Carlson's self-assessment is refreshingly winning, if maybe a little off the mark.
The five-piece band may not be charting new musical territory (obvious influences range from the MC5, the Who and the Kinks to the Clash and '80s hardcore) but it distinguishes itself with a clamorous intensity and a wonderfully overblown, guitar-fueled sound.
The Black Cat stage is big enough for most bands, but somehow the Carlsonics made it look like a roller derby rink. The tall and gangly Carlson careered about, narrowly missing collisions with guitarists Ed Donahue and John Passmore and once clipping bassist Nikki West in the head with an errant elbow. Only drummer Mike Scutari seemed mostly out of danger as the band pummeled through "The Leisure Class," "Six Second Kayaking" and "Senator Trudge and the Clap Division."
The group's bristling energy is contagious and grew more so later in the night. A cover of the Who's "Baba O'Riley" wasn't an ironic statement delivered with a wink and a nudge. It was pure tribute. Much like the band's version of Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit," which West rendered with the sort of verve that Grace Slick can only dream about these days.
Rock that assaults and thrashes about isn't for everyone, but the Carlsonics' remarkable torrent of sound and spirit is a balm for fans searching for a band with a sense of urgency and primal expression.
-- Joe Heim
