by Jess Mayhew
Going to a show that features three artists you’re excited about isn’t the easiest to cover. I’ve been having a love affair with Nnamdi’s DROOL for the past few months, but I’ve been digging Diet Cig’s discography for a while – not to mention all the great things I’ve heard about SPORTS. So which one shines in a review? Which one gets the bigger word count, or the brighter verbiage? As it turns out, all three of the performances glittered in different ways, highlighting their uniqueness as musical acts.
Nnamdi Ogbonnaya opened the show. If you’re unfamiliar with his work, it ranges from indie guitar music a la “Art School Crush” to the avant-hip-hop, synth-heavy stylings of DROOL. And most people at Subterreanean that night weren’t prepared for such a leap in genre, let alone Obgonnaya’s outward performance. At first, singing and rapping over tracks off of his iPod, we got the goofiness of the “let gO Of my egO” music video, with perhaps a little less grandiosity.
But then he picked up his SG and let loose a cacophony of noise, with the help of his drummer and bassist, throwing in full-band covers of DROOL tracks, older songs, and some jamming that could have opened up a Bongripper show. While the audience might not have known what to make of it, it was dramatic, dynamic, and all-around enjoyable.
SPORTS was up next, and I have to say, I was intrigued not only by their sound but by the fact that I hadn’t seen a band successfully snag the name “SPORTS” before. Thankfully, they lived up to my interest and provided some solid, fiery indie rock with a polite punk attitude. With most songs clocking in at a little over two minutes, they ran through a gamut of them in their half-hour slot. It was like speed-reading through my college journal, but in the best way possible and if I had been witty and brave enough to throw shit at the people who deserved shit-throwing.
Guitarist/vocalist Carmen Perry drew most of my attention with a powerful voice capable of dishing out scorn and snark while still remaining vulnerable, and some lightning-quick guitar skills. Not to mention she plugged right into her amp. Right into her amp! No effects! Definitely a cool thing to see in an age where pedalboards weigh about 40 pounds.
Finally, of course, Diet Cig comes out. The stage is relatively bare, with Noah Bowman on drums in the far back and the pixie-esque Alex Luciano on guitar and vocals and high-energy magic. Face painted in glitter, Alex Luciano has officially taken the cake for how many high-kicks and jump-twists can be done at a pop-punk show. Plugged into a wireless system and free to move about the empty stage, her energy was utterly unmatchable. And the energy she managed to work out of the crowd matched her own.
With a sweet, lilting voice that sometimes swells into a belt and a reckless abandon in her playing, the lyrics she sings are mirrored back by a frenzied, joyful crowd. Starting out with the searing “Sixteen” and moving on to others from previous their repertoire, including Diet Cig’s newest album Swear I’m Good At This, each song is dealt out like an ecstatic blow to the crowd, which happily takes it and swallows its energy. Of course, the music is what brought us all there that night, but it seems like the rush of watching Luciano and Bowman combust into elated energy was the real delight.