Worm / The Radicals / Jared Zero / Bad Movies
Midway Cafe, Jamaica Plain, MA 7/6/13
So this is another review I start with the word so. As they say, “You reap what you sow.” So what?
I’m here at the Midway for a Saturday matinee punk show, something I’ve never experienced before. Oh, wait, I say that in jest. It’s okay, good things are meant to be repeated.
Bad Movies are up first. I’ve only seen them once before and was duly impressed. The female lead singer doesn’t have her Mohawk today but then neither do I though the giraffes do. This band plays punk like I believe punk should be played, meaning with the feel, heart and conviction that the early punk bands played with.
This they accomplish and after reviewing a CD by them recently they’ve become one of my favorite bands. The singer, Linnea Sturdy, moves with an expressive stage presence while the band rails ferociously and strongly behind her. They do a cover of “Zombie” by The Cranberries that I find amusing. Bad Movies is not a slick band but one that is raw and true and pure as punk.
Now it’s Jared Zero’s time in the limelight. They’re a trio and play a style that is more progressive, more rock. Though adept at what they do it’s not what I’m looking for, which is a single redheaded female who will tie me up and set my nostril hair on fire while whipping my tits.
Sorry, I mistakenly included my personal ad on Craigslist here and my erase button is broken on my laptop. Sorry, I meant to say that musically this band does not whip my tits nor do they inflame my nostril hairs. And for this I can never forgive them. Ever.
But now it’s time for old favorites of mine The Radicals. They start their set rather conventionally by leading a legion of giraffes on stage and setting them on fire. Well, not the giraffes themselves but some inflammable paisley Nehru jackets that the giraffes are wearing while they wildly collide within the boundaries of the Midway.
The sound man, T.J., reacting wisely and decisively- puts out the flames with a fire extinguisher and herds the giraffes safely out back and then sets the equalizers on the board correctly. As Jill, the bartenderess, diligently dispenses free drink tickets to the band and then without any other discourse, festivities commence.
It has been rumored that this group is made up with some of the original radicals from the sixties and have formed to overthrow society, or at least what’s left of it, through their songs. Though they all seemingly look to be in their twenties and even someone like I, with meager intelligence, finds this highly unlikely to be true.
This band I’ve seen many times before and they never fail to excite. And not in your typical nose burning, tit whipping way. Oh, No! These guys do it aurally with a potent mix of hardcore, street punk and pop punk with all three sharing vocals. And today is no different as they play an awesome set that totally makes up for any previous giraffe cruelty.
Now it’s time for Worm to play. Just think of them as the bottom of the tequila bottle that, metaphorically, we have imbibed on today. They start out by leading the array of disgraced, shambled, shampooed giraffes onstage but only as a tearful condolence to their sad circumstance.
They then proceed to turn in an impressive set of garagey-punk with socially conscious lyrics that, like the Bad Movies, is not slick but packs a potent punch of punk pulchritude and I enjoy their set muchly. And there’s a review, or what passes for a review, of their fine CD, on this website, or what passes for a website, on what passes for this week by our soon to be passed out writer.
Afterward I’m sitting on the street corner, my head barely inches from the curbstone outside the Midway. Just watching the world turn, the wheels spin. I’m thinking, “Hey, I heard some pretty good punk today.” But I’m still thinking of the giraffes and what sad fate may await for them after this traumatizing day.
Aw, fuck ’em.
(Slimedog)
