A Night At Cafe Du Nord: 6/7/2009

I had just hung out with this friend last night, but he sent me a text anyway and asked if I wanted to catch a show. Turned out a family friend of his had a band that was kicking off their tour tonight, and he was attending. Asked if I'd go too. Sure, why not. It'll sure be cheaper then trying to bum tickets to see Janelle Monae which was my OTHER plan for the evening, so I hit the road.

The following will contain no coments about lyrics. Like most small places, this basement venue had a problem with drowning out the vocals. It was a low-ceilinged place, fairly dark with a large bar and a pool table stuck behind the stairs like they didn't want anyone to find it. Beers were three dollers, so it was better then Kimos.

First band was the Dave Rude Band. There wasn't much that was particularly rude about it, just loud. They were a three-peice that played pretty straight-up rock. It's kinda funny that for a band bears the name of just one guy, the frontman was the group's least interesting member. The manic metal bassist, hunched over his instrument with a scowl and some serious flare, was much more fun to watch. And the drummer's standing-up behind the kit fury on the skins bellied his well-groomed, Nice Jewish Boy looks. They were pretty good, loud, full of fast riffs and just the right touch of swagger.

I noticed that the next band setting up had an extremely professional air about them: all of their gear was decaled and the design on their kick drum was a lovely mixture of pop art and anime, a description which actually perfectly describes the motley-but-coordinated stage costumes of the band: sequins, dyed-hair in shades of pink, white, and black, eyeliner on everyone while still allowing the band their individuality. Their sound was pop-rock with some synth looping things up and an interesting dark undercurrent provided by the scuzzy guitars and heavy basslines. And this is also one of those rare situations where I have seen co-lead-singers actually work well together: the pink-haired pixie keyboardist and the guitar-wielding, eyelined frontman pass off the mic with their pure, pop voices. The bassist almost exclusively played from a stance so low he was almost doing the splits, the black-clad guitar player had some sort of problem with her ax that recurred throughout the night but she didn't let it slow her down too much as she posed like Dave Navarro and made the most of the tiny stage they were working so hard to rock. The drummer lady was barely visible behind her monster rig. I didn't even realize she was a lady until the set was over. I bought their EP for another listen. Hope to catch them again sometime, hopefully on a bigger stage with a less apathetic audience: Dreamer's bad audience karma continues...

I'm writing this a few days after the fact so forgive the following impressions if they're a bit vague: Triple Cobra is what you'd get if you took a couple old west showgirls and incorperated them very fully into a traditional glam rock band. The girls, with their feathered costumes and coordinated dance-moves seemed to be the band's main attraction. The frontman, who sported conditioned hair and more glittery eyeshadow and lipstick then either of his female sidekicks. He looks kind of like an effemninate Lenny Kravitz and acts kind of like one too. He flings himself all over the place, virtually injuring himself in the spirit of rock. Bubble machines, strobe lights, smoke machines and flying feathers all testify to the sheer chaos of the show, but somehow it worked.

And I got to see my friend again. Three weeks left in SF and counting...