THIS LITTLE UNDERGROUND
In uniting some of today’s best rising rock talent and daring to do it with bold variety, leading-edge metal label Relapse Records
showed some extraordinary vision with the recent tour package topped by its new thoroughbreds Nothing
(July 3, Backbooth).
Everyone at some point wishes they could rewrite history a bit, you know, go a little Eternal Sunshine
on some shit. Imagine for a second if Helmet
never released anything after Meantime,
went off the grid with some noise-rockers and reemerged with their original virility not just intact but reloaded with more hair and fangs. That would be a beautiful dream. Well, new Miami band Wrong
is essentially that fan fantasy come to life. And after a series of increasingly ravaging performances here since last year, they return as made men with a savage new self-titled album that certifies them as one of the absolute best bands
roaring up from the shady underside of the Sunshine State right now.
When a band’s intro is a wall of static, their shoegaze bona fides
are in the bag. And so it was for new-school tower of sound Nothing.
The Philadelphia band are also touring on a new album, Tired of Tomorrow,
a sophomore LP that’s a suppler and not better turn for them. Thankfully, those soft new shades either gain new heft from – or just simply get overrun by – their live gust.
More terrestrial than their vaporous and impressionistic peers, Nothing’s slant on shoegaze brings melody, structure
back up front to more clearly frame the sonic haze. The result is a punctuated and balanced attack where every considered aspect is heard without sacrificing size or effect. Live, it’s a stately crush,
a sonic marvel that envelops like an ocean of gorgeous wool.
Now, I’m not at all sure why a crowd would start stage-diving
to Nothing of all the bands on this bill like they did but, hey, all right. I’ll never complain about a spike in the action, especially for a tour finale like this. Interesting bill, interesting results, I guess. But when you jump into a group of gaze heads whose action readiness level is usually set to deep inward swooning
and not punk-show alertness, you are kind of taking your life into your own hands.
Yeah, some close calls. A pit even broke out. I officially have no idea what is going on any more.
That business would’ve made much more sense during the rousing opening set of San Francisco’s Culture Abuse,
who rip party punk with a feral hardcore bite. It’s a fairly simple attack. But, at three guitars
tall, their live sound is a total juggernaut.
This Little Underground is Orlando Weekly's music column providing perspective, live reviews and news on the city's music scene.
Follow Bao on Twitter (@baolehuu)
Email Bao: email@example.com