Seattle Subsonic

To the Lighthouse, Bone Cave Ballet, Ohs in my Head

June 9th, 2010

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The Funhouse. I arrived early to get a good seat at the bar. I wanted to settle in for a bit and perhaps read for a spell before the music started. I was there to see Bone Cave Ballet, a band I’d seen once before at an outdoor venue and was curious to catch them in a club in a more intimate and hopefully rocking and loud environment. It was my first time at The Funhouse which according to their website is Seattle’s Premier Punk Club. I couldn’t confirm or deny that, but I did know that Bone Cave Ballet wasn’t exactly punk so this could be interesting.
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I was reading To the Lighthouse which I’ve read a number of times but I just rebought it after I moved to a new apartment and realized my old copy had vanished as things tend to do. So I bought a new one and well I can’t buy a book just to replace an empty spot on the bookshelf so I took it to The Funhouse and read in anticipation of the rock to come. And therein was Mr. Ramsay feeding a wife and eight children on philosophy and repeating, “Someone had blundered,”, Lily Briscoe painting her picture, little James eager for the Lighthouse … or for an axe to deal with his father who dashed his hopes by saying of the weather, “it won’t be fine.” And then there was again Mr. Ramsay later bending over a hen and her chicks in the road and saying, “Pretty-pretty.”
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One might imagine the Gods of Rock and Roll doing such when they see the miniature Jacqui Gilroy ascend the stage and strap on an SG for there is indeed something fine about a woman doing such. And thus bending down from Rock Heaven they point their walking sticks and say, “Pretty-pretty,” in a condescending kind of way, at least until the music starts. Then they’d have to listen for Jacqui and the rest of the group would be doing their best imitation of Lily Briscoe painting her picture and refusing to paint to the fashion of the day, “But this is what I see; this is what I see.”
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And so the music goes at once up and then down. They have dynamics, delayed clean guitars, heavy parts that sometimes want of a little tightening but still balance well with the whole. The heavy parts do not overload either. They’re very controlled. They play Chewing Sand, my favorite, third in the set which makes me fear the rest will be anit-climactic since I love those Oh Oh Oh parts which I have labeled as “trading Ohs” between Gilroy and backup singer Kristie Werner. The harmonies are good. It’s the kind of thing that makes one want to be able to sing well. Jacqui plays guitar with her fingers rather than a pick which gives a plucked sound in the quieter parts and mixes well with the leads played by Everett Sarono. The beginning of Breakfast with Hate evokes thus a very kind of Pearl Jam Present Tense feel but not in a rip off kind of way. It goes a little into PJ territory and then comes back to BCB. Breakfast with Hate also brings back the Ohs with the additions of some Ahhs. I must say these guys like their Ohs and Ahs. I do too.
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They ended the show with Dry Divine which rocks admirably and makes the case for a band with their dynamics and softer elements to still be in a punk club on a Sunday evening. When done there was applause and a few calls for, “One more!” but with three other bands on the bill they couldn’t oblige. “Thanks,” Jacqui said stepping off the stage and unstrapping the SG. That was fine with me because I still had those Ohs in my head, and I wanted to linger on them for a while as I got back into my book in the space between bands. And therein again was Lilly Briscoe’s picture withstanding the critical gaze of the Rock Gods who pointed to a purplish triangle slightly off center and asked, “What do you mean by this?” and being satisfied thus when the band responds in unison, “That’s the rhythm section. You see this point here is James’ head, and this other bit here is Kelly’s kick drum.”
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