One David Buzanski, a fine young gentleman and friendly face who aids me in my caffeine habit, politely requested that I attend a show some friends of his would be playing at the Wandering Goat. Based upon a my limited musical conversations and experiences with David (he likes Dave Bazan, he’s a talented musician himself, he picks decent-awesome tunes for our coffeeing soundtrack) , I complied.
Personal taste is one thing, but when friends are involved, I think we can all agree that taste becomes skewed by a desire to like your friend’s project. I had resolved myself to come see something that wasn’t quite my cup of tea, while distracting myself with a cup of the same.*
That said, the first act, Tucson AZ’s Young Hunter floored me. The 7 piece desert rock act has it all: Thick layered percussion, eerily beautiful dual guitar leads, male and female vocals, so much going on, but always tasteful. These kids have a keen understanding of dynamics, space, and when to let a song breath that dusty alkali air. There’s no fear of being a large act that, at times, sounds sparse. Forgive me for the crappy pictures, I found myself doing more gawking than actually taking photos. It’s easy to get lost in the desert.
After a refill on my cold brew coffee, the jitters were starting to set in. I was a little concerned about the next bands ability to fill the oversized shoes discarded by the last act. Cormorant (San Fran), however, pulled from their arsenal an equally large pair of ass-kickin’ boots, strapped on and pummeled the room with a tight set of their own brand of black/death metal hardly kissed by that bay area sunshine. Clouds loomed, lightning struck, and sparks showered the crowd. Ahem. Figuratively. Well done, gents.
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*I know, Dave. Bullshit. I only drink cold brew. Black as midnight on a moonless night