Author Archives: Jenn Bress

The bass was loud, and the DJs played dance-worthy beats, but the crowd was packed in towards the front by the stage, completely “Rapture-ready” for the sold-out show at U Street Music Hall.

Some hail In the Grace of Your Love as The Rapture’s “revival,” but no revival is stronger than the post-punk revival inspired by the band in 2000. Often compared to Gang of Four with vocals that tinge on the gothic wailing of The Cure, The Rapture packed U Hall on a Sunday night.

As they opened with “Sail Away,” the first track on 2011’s In the Grace of You’re Love, I admit a slight tremor of fear overtook me as I prepared myself for a set heavy on tracks from this album. Nevertheless, Luke Jenner’s Robert Smith-tinted vocals rocketed the audience along a well-crafted set of gems mined from each album the Rapture has released since the early 2000s.

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Joint Custody is a tiny record and clothing store that just opened below Pharmacy Bar on 18th Street in Adams Morgan.

They are diagonal from Smash, and with a similar store model, I wondered how they could possibly set themselves apart from the iconic wonder that has been the DC area’s go-to for records and punk/rock fashion for years now.

First thing that strikes you when you walk in is much more of a vintage feel. This could be the awesome vintage lamps that are displayed and for sale as you enter.

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I’m going to call it—this is by far the best show I’ve seen this year, and I’ve been to a bunch of them

I arrived early with a few friends who drove two hours to catch the show. We wanted to get right in front to see the legendary and influential post-punk band The Raincoats. But this line up was jammed with stellar bands, so getting there early was a must. The Raincoats were also joined by Killrockstar’s Grass Widow and the Ian Svenonious-fronted spoken word/musical project, Felt Letters.

If there’s one thing Sasha Lord Presents and Comet Ping Pong are doing well, it’s utilizing the intimacy of Comet’s back room to curate a memorable show experience.

I really don’t think I’m going to be able to do the Raincoats justice in this review. That is how fucking good they were. Quite unassuming, these were still the Raincoats we remembered—effortlessly cool, only graced with age, and literally staring right into our souls. There is something utterly magical about seeing a band of that caliber in such an intimate space. I was staring into the mouth of Ana De Silva the entire night. It was intimidating only if I let it be, because she was completely down to earth and sweet.

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With this incessant raining, I just want to snuggle up in my favorite black hoodie and massage my inner goth by curling up in a chair and reading about Wicca after lavishing myself in Sandalwood essential oil. Thank goddess, the show I attended Wednesday night at the Black Cat filled the void, and no candles were sacrificed.

The evening promised two talented electronic acts, Young Athlete’s League heavy on the ’80s italo, Com Truise, heavy on the ’80s video game beats and lastly, Active Child, heavy on the angelic melodramatics.

I was stupid and walked to the back while Active Child were setting up. By the time they appeared on stage, the place was jam packed so I could not really see them. I did notice a nice romantic bust of a lady adorning the stage.

Now, Active Child are not just typical bedroom produced indie-pop, oh no. Pat Grossi’s vocals are utterly earth shattering and mesmerizing. I regret the words that came out of my mouth prior to the show “I don’t know, it’s such bedroom music—I might be bored and leave early.” This did not happen.

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Holy crap, it’s already September. Though many of us are already mourning the summer after Labor Day Weekend, the drop in the weather makes me want to get on my bike and ride around the city.

Why not challenge yourself to explore a new record store you have been meaning to check out? The Vinyl District knows you’re looking to beef up your record collection and has a challenge for you, to complete our Foursquare List or our Gowalla Trip of the Best Record Stores in your city. If you live in DC, NYC, or Nashville, we’ve got your trip all planned out.

First, you’ll want to add us on Foursquare or Gowalla and download their apps to your phone.

On Foursquare, you can follow our lists of best DC/NYC/Nashville Record Stores.

• Our DC tour includes: Som Records, Crooked Beat Records, Smash Records, Red Onion Records and Books, and Melody Records

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Going to shows alone is so much better than drinking alone in the house of boredom, where the reality of just how insignificant your life really is, is crystallized by a bottle of bourbon. H Street’s Red Palace is a comfortable respite from the insecurities associated with curling up to a bottle and a movie on a Friday night. The familiar face of your local bartender and a sold out show can curate the perfect evening for the solo show goer.

For those who attended the sold out War on Drugs show this past Labor day weekend, whether they arrived eight friends deep or rolled up with a partner in crime, the show’s line-up, including openers Caveman from Brooklyn and DC’s Paperhaus, guaranteed anything but a boring evening of desperation and despair.

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I am battered, hungover, and tired, feeling almost as if Hurricane Irene had brandished me between tree branches or bashed me through a windshield like a brick. What I’m talking about, three days later (yes, it gets harder in your 30s to bounce back, kids), is the prideful pain of being ravaged by a great show. I have just seen Warchildwith Sistered and Nunchucks at the Rock and Roll Hotel.

As Warchild were about to take to the stage, there was already a cloud of sweat and beer floating above the pit, which had pre-formed in anticipation of their arrival. That cloud could strike a lightening bolt of rage on any one of the aggro dudes ready to shove their bodies together like enraged wrestlers. Instead, Jason, Devin, and Allan appear like charging bulls, but one thing has gone terribly wrong. Bassist Jason Dangle still has his shirt on. The ladies are pissed and chant “shirt off, shirt off” as the first song begins.

Rory, with hands in the air conducting the crowd as if he’s Satan’s televangelist, enters the stage and the show begins. He headbangs, screams around the stage, and the first song is finished. Jason, in response to the continuous chant of “shirt off,” has obliged, and the pit is, like the depth of a volcano, on fire and pulsating. Allan Chappelear is a selt-taught thrash savant, and his solos are electrifying. “Now you Die” is streaked with the influence of Rory Sheridan’s love of DC Hardcore.

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HURRICANES ARE NOT OUR FUCKING CONCERN.

And here are some reasons why, per Warchild ring leader Rory Sheridan:

#1 Our show is tonight at Rock and Roll Hotel ($10, doors at 8:30). That bitch Eileen [Editor’s note: It’s actually Irene] ain’t getting anywhere near us till Saturday night. Remember at the end of Point Break when Bodie was about to meet his match with the waves at the 50 Year Storm at Bells Beach? That’s what tonight is like to me. I don’t give a shit if I die, I’m going out in a blaze of glory.

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Warchild are kind of a big deal. It’s inevitable that one day they’ll be laying down tracks, busting out their new album for all their dedicated fans, and you can bet it will pretty much just be a non-stop party. The boys have rounded up a list of must-have items to take with them to the studio that will keep them going till the break of dawn.

But first, a brief interview with the band.

RORY: Bud Lite, a green loofah, Adderal, Bud Lite lime, freshly-picked kale, coconut water, life-sized cardboard cutout of James Hetfield to throw darts at, darts.

Beef jerky, the latest issue of GQ, VHS copy of Leanord 6, a picture of Andrew Telford’s ponytail, personal champagne bottle, personal champagne flute with “Party Wolf” engraved in the glass.

A Number 4 Super-Sized, the Bible, the Koran, Redskins jersey, Jäger pump, air horn, black crayon, zumba pants, hairbrush, lava lamp, Bud Heavy, electric alarm clock, any t-shirts I have stolen from Billy Rosser.

A walkie talkie so I can communicate with any other Warchild while they are in the bathroom, autographed picture of Dave Mustaine, and a pair of loafers.

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Day 3 of Warchid’s week-long TVD Takeover, a Takeover so big, it literally shook the earth. Mother nature could not help but take notice of the massive impact this DC thrash metal band has on the inhabitants of earth.

Room 11, one of DC’s finer bars and one of the band’s many favorite watering holes, couldn’t resist naming a beverage “The Warchild” to honor and immortalize the fearless foursome.

Order The Warchild today, Wednesday (8/24) through Friday (8/26) and get a discounted Warchild for $6.66. Don’t forget to tell your bartender “Death to all but Metal” to receive the discounted price of $6.66.

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Join us as we continue on to Day Two of TVD’s week-long Warchild takeover.

Today, we have three songs ready for you to download, along with the story behind each one, offered up by front man Rory Sheridan.

Warchild | Every Position

The title from this song comes from the story of me purchasing my car. I found this awesome ass 1962 Chevy Biscayne with a roof that looked like a red bowling ball. It looked like a drug dealers car. I knew it had to be mine.

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If you follow the DC music scene, you’ll know that DC is not lacking in crucial metal bands. Darkest Hour, Pig Destroyer, Beasts of No Nation, Dying Feotus, Magrudergrind, and Municipal Waste are among my favorites.

New to that mix and as equally epic are Warchild, massive DC thrash metal fueled by beer and inspired by drinking at local bars. Behold, their new video for “Back to the Mines,” just released last week.

They are taking over TVD this week with five days of posts to hype their upcoming show this Friday (8/26) at the Rock and Roll Hotel. Tickets are only $10.

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@Crooked Beat
Crooked Beat recently acquired a large used collection of over 1,000 records, filled with ’60s-’70s Rock, Soul, Jazz, and Garage. Almost all of the records are in great condition, including numerous titles from the Beatles, Supremes, Rolling Stones, Queen, Nuggets, and Pebbles Garage Rock Compilations.

Pebbles compilations make over 800 ’60s punk and garage obscurities accessible to lovers of rock and roll. Lenny Kaye defined the term “punk rock” to describe the raw and gutteral energy of the music of these crude releases, fueled by unaffected teenage energy. Lenny Kay was a music pioneer. He was a journalist, member of the Patti Smith group, catalogued the Nugget and Pebbles complilations, and produced Patti Smith’s debut single “Hey Joe.”

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Monument Music and Arts Festival have got their shit together and will likely continue to bring high caliber shows to DC like the Small Black, Outputmessage and Cigarette show last Thursday at DC9. Each show presented by Monument honors a specific charity, and this time, Grassroots Reconciliation Group received a portion of proceeds from the show. From the looks of it, GRG and Monument probably made bank because the place was so packed I was sweating through my sweat and rubbing many body parts with many strangers.

Small Black are rather boisterous live, complete with booming 1980’s synths and Josh Kolenic’s baseball hat turned to the back. Forerunners of the chillwave movement, Kolenic and Ryan Heyner tour live with the addition of a full synth drum kit that fills out their sound. The show was anything but chill in three ways:

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Nothing is better than attending a show expecting to be blown away by the headlining band and instead being awestruck by an onslaught of talent from not one but every band on the evening’s lineup. Kurt Vile, Woods and White Fence did just that at The Rock and Roll Hotel last week.

Kurt Vile cradles his guitar with his long curly hair in his face, as if he’s protecting a bunch of newborn kittens. Vile conjures the same nostalgic tenderness of Springsteen’s Nebraska on his newest release, Smoke Ring for my Halo. He starts his set with “Blackberry Song,” off of Childish Prodigy. it is an invitation to his bedroom. We all would have been sitting Indian style if the Rock and Roll Hotel’s floor weren’t soaked in beer… His second song in, “Runner Ups” offers up his backing band The Violators, with a drummer so damned tight he could be a pair of hipster’s jeans.

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