SHOUT OUT OUT OUT

by Dna Bolles (08/08/07).

This is why I never show up to a concert at the published start time. In the history of rock music, maybe four concerts have begun when they were supposed to. One of those was only because The Grateful Dead didn’t realize that Daylight Savings Time had gone into effect and thought they were actually an hour late. OK, I made that last bit up, but the point is that rock and punctuality don’t mix. Never have, never will. To that end, music writers — many of whom are recovering musicians — are also, as a rule, notoriously tardy. I don’t make the rules, folks, I just live by ’em.

In an effort to put my best foot forward, I made an attempt to be as punctual as possible last Wednesday to attend the Fantastic $4 Band Night at the Higher Ground Showcase Lounge. Like Clark Kent changing in a phone booth, I scarfed down dinner, ran through the shower, dressed myself to the nines — well, the sevens or eights, anyway — and drove like a drunken Masshole to make it to the club by 9 o’clock. Tires screeching as I wildly aimed my trusty Saab at the narrow stretch of blacktop between Dunkin’ Donuts and Quiznos — the latter of which seem to be popping up in Burlington like herpes — I guided my aging whip into the Higher Ground parking lot, finally coming to rest straddling two spots. Readjusting my vehicle, I glanced at the time: 8:59. I did it.

Sadly, my efforts would prove to go unrewarded as the club was virtually deserted, save for two bartenders, a few security guards, an enthusiastic sound engineer and three dudes sitting wallflower-style along the side of the room. More on these guys later.

The show had started roughly on time, but you wouldn’t really know it. DJK was expertly spinning an eclectic blend of psychedelic downtempo and house music, but was relegated to an awkward spot beside the stage, out of view of the “crowd.” If not for the fact that DJK’s performance was far superior to what normally graces the speakers at area nightclubs in between sets, it would have been difficult to tell that anyone was actually performing. It’s too bad, because he was in fine form.

Eventually, a few people began to straggle into the room as local electronica quartet Panda Watch took the stage while DJK’s final cut faded away. As the stage lights dimmed, the anticipation in the room was palpable — at least among the eight or so people comprising the audience. Then, an imposing voice boomed over the loudspeaker, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mixed Bag Productions proudly presents: PANDA WATCH!” I’m pretty sure I heard crickets, and could’ve sworn a tumbleweed rolled past the stage.

Polite applause was followed by a mildly inebriated voice loudly emanating from the bar. “That would have been so much cooler if there were people here!” Indeed.

Chuckling as they began their set, Panda Watch didn’t seem to mind the sparse crowd and broke into a nifty little loungy disco tune that showcased guitarist Tom Trimarchi’s considerable chops. The bandleader has an obvious ear for catchy melodies and is no slouch as a soloist, either. Unfortunately, the band never quite seemed able — or, perhaps, willing — to match his intensity and elevate their overall performance. Maybe it was the crowd.

Panda Watch are a young band and, like many other newer groups, they struggled with the cohesive changes and dynamic variance that make for a truly engaging live performance. But overall, they played a strong set and offered a telling glimpse into the vast potential of an up-and-coming local act. Given a bit more time and experience, we might have Vermont’s answer to The Disco Biscuits, or a worthy heir to Burlington’s late, great Concentric.

By this point, the number of people in the room had swelled to what could almost pass for an audience. Almost.

Forgoing the introductory theatrics of the opening band, the uniformly gangly members of Edmonton’s Shout Out Out Out Out took the stage, setting up shop amid a cluster of drum sets, bass cabinets and what must have been half the inventory of the Korg warehouse. I’ve never seen so many samplers and electro-thingamajigs in my entire life.

Despite the lackluster draw — or, according to synth player/bassist Nik Kozub, because of it — SOOOO tore through a blistering set of high-energy, infectious and utterly bizarre techno-punk tunes — replete with ironic rock poses and gear-tossing — that had nearly everyone in the room bouncing and gyrating. Including the three aforementioned wallflower dudes and some guy ineptly twirling/dropping glow sticks.

Apparently, there isn’t much going on in Syracuse. Having seen the band two nights earlier at a college dive bar, said dudes made the drive from western New York to South Burlington for the sole purpose of seeing SOOOO. Why? “We didn’t have anything else to do,” said Dude Number One, bedecked head to toe in Abercrombie & Fitch. They preferred to remain nameless as they hadn’t told their parents about the trip. “Plus,” injected Dude Number Two, “They’re pretty fuckin’ good.” True, dat.