The first thing I noticed when I walked into the Troc was not pop-punk band Broadway Calls on stage playing angsty anthems about some girl somewhere who broke someone’s heart. It was the plaid. The place looked like a Scotch Christmas; legions of tartan-clad young folk, standing in one place and staring blankly at the stage. The Troc’s decision to essentially segregate their crowd according to age by way of their 21-plus Balcony means a floor full of kids that are too scared or self-conscious to dance. With the exception of one push to the front when the Loved Ones came on stage, the crowd remained almost completely stationary.

The Loved Ones have gained a lot of confidence since I saw them in D.C. in 2005. They used to spend their time between songs thanking the crowd for giving them a chance. Now, with four years under his belt and playing on his home turf, front-man Dave Hause has dropped his earnest, apologetic vibe in favor of being a self-satisfied, American Apparel clad “punk rocker.” His attempts to involve the crowd fell short; it’s difficult to have a rousing sing-a-long chorus when no one knows the words to your songs. He almost won my affection when he started passing out whiskey to the crowd, but I think I liked them better when they knew they weren’t very good.

Murder by Death played a great show to an unappreciative crowd. It’s understandable, when people go to see the kind of kiddy-punk band that would be featured on the Tony Hawk ProSkater soundtrack, they don’t want to see a cello-heavy group that sounds like Ennio Morricone made love to Johnny Cash. In the crowd, kids were rolling their eyes, shaking their heads, and bitching about how it was probably this random band’s fault that their beloved punk show was so expensive ($15 doesn’t sound so bad to me). Watching cellist Sarah Balliet play is like watching a ballerina, albeit a very violent, ethereal one. Completely expressionless, she fervently saws at her instrument, destroying a cello bow per show.  They played a range of songs from all four of their albums, complete with amusing one liners from front-man Adam Turla, along the lines of “This song is about drinking, which we have a commitment to.”

The Gaslight Anthem did the best they could with what they had to work with. As I’m certain is apparent in previous paragraphs, I have an inherent aversion to Gaslight’s particular breed of punk rock. It wasn’t always this way … but then I turned 14. The soundman must have been asleep; from my utterly unqualified perspective, it sounded like the middle section was missing. The volume on everything was down so low that it created a gut-wrenchingly awkward acoustic environment. You know there’s a problem when the fat guy behind you is yelling louder than the singer and the girl 15 feet in front of you chatting to her BFF sounds like she’s talking in your ear. However, Gaslight played a solid set. Their stage presence was genuine, and it was good to see the crowd get excited for the band they came to see.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 23rd, 2009 at 2:17 pm and is filed under Music, Show. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.