SHOW REVIEW: Modey Lemon|
March 18, 2002 - The Black Cat (Washington D.C.)
By: Martin Royle
The Black Cat in Washington DC is a brand X, A-1 rock club. It's got its hipsters, who are, you know, hipsters. Cute hair, not a lot to say, secretly embarrassed about everything, fresh from a pharmacy-themed bar. The sun rises, the sun sets. Really, really cute hair.
But this night is a bit different. From the back of the club, comes a KERANG that cuts through three shots of whiskey. Thump, rank, thump, come on... Good god man, who are these fuckers? Who are these two rock and roll freaks who play with dark eyed soul and focused aggression? Take notes kids, this is a rock and roll band. Someone tells me they're a two piece from Pittsburgh, called Modey Lemon. The passion that spits out of the amp and rises from the drum kit is undeniable. Ouch. Get up.
I'm in the front, it's easy to get to the front. The scenesters don't take well to being touched, and move effetely out of the way. The closer I get, the stronger the back beat, the louder the amp, the more seething the feedback. Yeah man, fuck yeah man! There's three of us standing against the stage. Me and two weird looking fuckers who are literally writhing to the music. Twisting we loose ourselves in the beautiful noise.
This band, this fucking band! The singer's hair covers his face Kurt Cobain style. He moves like a man possessed. And if this is true, it's certainly the drummer who's conjuring demons. He is technically amazing, but plays with zero restraint. These changes are furious and savage, but there are well written songs up in this mother-fucker too!
It ends as it should. Searing feedback, the guitarist jumping to every beat. Oh Rock and Roll, I can't thank you enough. And thank you, Modey Lemon, hope to see you around lads.
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