We Review: Grayskul, Hangar 18, Glue, XPerience, and Grieves @ Chop Suey
Just once, Seattlest would like to go to a show at Chop Suey and not trip on the single step down from the bar on our way to the ladies' room. When it's dark and the music's good, we get excited and forget to "please watch your step!" as per the handwritten sign posted to the right of said step... We hope no one saw us crash. Other than that mishap, we really, really enjoyed ourselves at the Grayskul/Hangar 18/Glue/XPerience/Grieves show on Friday night!
Grieves, as it turns out, is remarkably likable. He's earnest; he stands at the edge of the stage, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his skater hair, and tells you all about his world against easy-going beats. Then, he holds up his homemade promotional poster, starring a stick figure drawn in flourescent highlighter. "This isn't the actual poster, but it's as close as I could draw it myself. Can you see this?" he asked. We think we detected talent underneath all that charm, and we're looking forward to his show at the High Dive on November 24th.
"It's fun to rap," announced XPerience good-naturedly a few songs into his set, and we believe it. We liked XPerience's sturdy, packed spits best, though, when he was joined by Macklemore mid-set. The two call themselves step-cousins (are they really?), and they're an awesome pair. What is it about this Macklemore fellow that kicks it all up a notch? Our concert-going companion had noticed Macklemore earlier, when he was dancing semi-drunkenly to XPerience's first few songs: "Who's the idiot in the Elmer Fudd hat?" she asked. "Uh... that's Macklemore!" we chastised.
Glue's set was insane, in a techno-infused, million-bpm, infectiously-excited kind of way. Like Busdriver, Adeem holds the entire room in a happy trance while he raps crazily fast. We realize Glue is slightly nerdy, and more than slightly white, but we don't care: Glue is a good time. After Glue, even the b-boys in the room were feeling the musical joy. Only for five minutes, but that's okay; it was fun to see them step it out for awhile between sets. The song we were humming on Saturday afternoon: Early Morning Silence.
"We're the interracial dynamic duo from New York," proclaimed Wind from Hangar 18. "This is the white guy, his name is Alaska." One mulatto reference, two mother jokes, and one 160+bpm song later, we decided we really liked Hangar 18. Their big crowd-pleasing hit these days is a song called "Baking Soda," and the guy standing next to us was super into it. Seattlest couldn't tell if he meant to be yelling "Baking Soda" so much or if he was just too drunk to hear when, precisely, Wind and Alaska wanted him to yell it. At any rate, even our drunken fan of a neighbor couldn't stall H-18's momentum. Here: "Baking Soda" is online. To re-create Seattlest's Friday night, simply turn it up really loud and shout the key phrase any time you feel like it. It's fun!
Finally, Grayskul. JFK was in fine, fine form as he provided the tight, quick, high-pitched spits; at times, his passionate vocals sounded more like a wail. That slithery wail was perfect against the booming, beguiling incantations of Onry Ozzborn and XPerience. It's hip-hop, but it's creepy and dark and deeply pleasing. Grayskul's gothic, morbid tinge (political, though! President Bush was referenced at least four times at this show, by our count) made the actual beats that much more interesting. We were mesmerized by JFK's twisting, zombie-esque hand movements. Here's what he does: he reaches out with his fingers spread, like he's palming a basketball. Then, his eyes widen and he grabs onto the air, twisting it like he's turning a door knob. Except, he's not turning an air doorknob; he's ripping your heart out and eating it! Or something. We liked it. Welcome home, Grayskul! Please don't eat our internal organs!
Photo via Myspace
