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.
They opened with “No Side to Fall In,” climaxing the song with harmonica, and we’re all just blown away. Vicky Aspinall is mesmerizing as she pogos around to “No One’s Little Girl.” Ana De Silva and Gina Birch yip along. I look around the room and can’t help but notice how somber the crowd is, albeit a beautiful crowd of unfamiliar faces that popped out of the woodwork to attend this utterly memorable night.
Ana confesses that they are playing on three hours of sleep. I can’t even imagine how good they would sound on full steam. “We’re old ladies now,” she explains, and Gina chimes in “Old ladies who rock.” Damn right. And Ana continues, “A one night stand with guitars and amps.”
Oh, sweet Jesus, could anything be better? They’re onto “Odyshape,” which Ana tells us later they haven’t played live in thirty years.
It gets quiet and someone screams “You’re awesome!” from the back and the crowd erupts in laughter. “You should get a friendship bracelet that says “We’re awesome’ on it!” says another audience member. Gina exclaims, “My friend made me one that says ‘I’m not always right’ on it—it stinks!”
What absolutely didn’t stink is the encore, “Fairytale in the Supermarket.” Everyone sang along, and “In Love” which couldn’t have been a better song to end on—because how could you not be after such a solid show?
Here’s a quick segue, the definition of “Grass Widow” is a woman who is divorced or separated from her husband. Know someone who can relate?
For a second, when Grass Widow take to the stage, I wonder if my friends secretly formed a band and left me in the dark about it. The ladies of Grass Widow reek of ’90s grunge and Riot Grrl, like a freshly lit joint reeks of potential bliss. My girls and I were skeptical about seeing Grass Widow live, because their two recordings Grass Widow and Past Time are a rather chilled out listen.
If I heard them correctly, Grass Widow are touring with the Raincoats on only a really brief mini-tour through September. I remember turning to my friend Gina and saying that is feels like we were seeing The Raincoats in the ’70s based on the amazing soundcheck we overheard and the fact that Grass Widow were pounding us with some punk-rock energy that was on par with Kleenex—who Grass Widow are no doubt influenced by. At times, some grungy Velocity Girl-like harmonies bubble up, especially during “Lulu’s Lips.”
And yeah, these guys get compared to The Vivian Girls a lot. I’ve seen the Vivian Girls, and I jotted down in my notebook “Vivian Girl, keep trying.” The drummer is absolutely mesmerizing and shows her true colors during “Rattled Call,” as disjointed and mathy drums are the focal point of the song.
If I had been Grass Widow, I too would have ended every song with “Wow, we’re really honored to be playing with the Raincoats.” It was just that kind of night.
An always dapper Ian Svenonius appeared before us in a grey suit with a red and white gingham shirt playfully waving us into an evening of smiles and bewilderment. A keyboard playing silver fox joins him, also known as Fugazi drummer Brendan Canty, along with Tom Bunnell.
They began by reading a scripted spoken word performance, where the rock group hosts a seance to summon rock idols of years past in order to channel their creative energy and perhaps swipe some inspiration from songs they were working on before they died. The performance is awkward, funny, and cleverly introduces each Felt Letters song.
The gem of the night is of course “600,000 Bands,” a meditation on the dilution of music by the blogosphere. Svenonius’ cynicism escalates into an angry frenzy, the psychedelic incantation punctuated by his iconic scream and a jump kicks.
Photos by Liz Gorman
