Wednesday night with Harlem.
In a Pitchfork review last month of Hippies, the Matador debut by Austin three-piece Harlem, writer David Bevan notes, "You might say they rub some people the wrong way." I guess you could say I used to be one of those people. It wasn't anything in particular about the band's music, which struck me as reasonably OK scuzzed-out rock'n'roll. Just call it the Harlem Shakes rule: When an otherwise harmless, presumably non-black band names itself after a famous African-American neighborhood, I sort of preemptively get annoyed with them for trying to shock me or whatever. I want to ignore them, to avoid giving them the satisfaction. Is that weird?
I know there is something evil under your pretty face.
The thing with Harlem, though-- as multiple listens to Hippies quickly reveal-- is they're actually pretty skilled purveyors of noisy, catchy, Nuggets-y um nuggets. If you like bands like the Black Lips or the Smith-Westerns, and I do, it's pretty hard to imagine you not liking these guys, too. I remember not really feeling "Friendly Ghost" when I first heard it, but unlike a lot of other bands working in this sort of lo-fi garage-rock space, Harlem make sure their songs are as hummable as they are rickety-sounding. So by the zillionth time I checked out the song, I had all but forgotten initially making fun of something or other about its lyrics, and I just wanted to shout along. See also: "Be Your Baby," "Gay Human Bones," etc.
Wednesday night at the Vaudeville Mews, Harlem maybe weren't the tightest of all bands-- a couple of visits to the bar may have had something to do with that, and who could blame them?-- but they put on a really fun show. I know that's not some kind of deep insight or anything, but that's all I've got for now. The rock show was awesome. The Vaudeville Mews was a genie in a bottle, and this time, Harlem rubbed people the right way. (If you're still with me after that horrendous sentence, then please come back anytime, dudes.)
Rock'n'roll rock'n'roll rock'n'roll rock'n'roll.
Locals the Jitz opened, their bassist bare-chested, and put on a typically rousing set of good-times cars/girls/rock'n'roll rock'n'roll. Thanks for playing "Ingersoll Booze" as requested, fellas.
Other upcoming Des Moines shows, basically just reprised from my last post, after the jump.
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