Obits + Disappears + Red Eyed Legends : Empty Bottle; Sat 25
Areif Sless-Kitain
Tue, 21 Jul 2009
Obits
Photo: Jim Herrington
Like being blinded by a bully with a fistful of sand, the surf-rock blitz of Brooklyn’s Obits is swift and arrogant. But the band’s no-bullshit, back-to-basics buzz-saw punk is as sincere as it gets, guided by singer-guitarist Rick Froberg, whose throaty howl slices through each chugging chord with the effortless phrasing of a veteran frontman. This may be a new group, but these are no newcomers.
Still, what stands out most about Obits’ debut for Sub Pop, I Blame You, is the absence of Froberg’s usual foil: John Reis, busy with his Night Marchers (coincidentally playing today at the nearby Wicker Park Fest). For many fans, the pair seemed inseparable during a nearly 20-year run in tough-as-nails postpunk bands Pitchfork, Drive Like Jehu and, most recently, Hot Snakes. Obits sounds closest to the latter, with stripped-down, straight-ahead rock nuggets.
I Blame You’s a refreshingly concise package of raw riffage and well-calloused vocal chords, recalling the Stooges if abetted by Dick Dale’s six-string runs. You can almost feel the reverb rattling over the shaking maracas and relentless stomp. Taking Reis’s place in this foursome is guitarist-singer Sohrab Habibion of D.C. art-pop act Edsel, playing Lee Renaldo to Froberg’s Thurston Moore.
Fellow District punk vet Chris Thomson sings the smarmy swan song of local standby Red Eyed Legends, which open the evening with their final performance. The Legends have been at it for a while now but only recently released their first full-length, Wake Up, Legend—a turgid, cranky concoction featuring Thomson’s snotty Mark E. Smith–indebted affect. His signature acid-tongued verses have always stood out in a career that rivals Froberg’s. But our favorite part of REL’s live show is watching Kiki Yablon relentlessly bash her tambourine against the surface of her Farfisa. Fresh off a set at Pitchfork Fest, Chicagoans Disappears round out the bill with menacing psych-rock, making this triple-threat an epic garage throwdown.
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