My eyes hurt so this is gonna be quick.
The New Bomb Turks were excellent last night. Even though I couldn’t stay for the whole show – had to hike the mile or so from Whelans to Abbey Street for the last bus – the 35 minutes or so that I bore witness to were more than worth the admission fee. They are the dirtiest, sleaziest band I’ve seen yet, and they rock hard. I was well impressed. I could go on about their stage moves (the singer, he’s got ’em all) and crowd-molesting antics (note to self: if one wears a baseball cap to a New Bomb Turks show, it may well end up down the front of the singer’s pants), but – if you will pardon the cliche – words just don’t do them justice.
Watching them made me think about how America produces such great bands, such great music. It just doesn’t seem authentic coming from anywhere else for some reason. That’s not to put a downer on bands like Female Hercules (local boys, opened the show last night, I caught the end of their set, can’t believe I’ve never even heard them before despite knowing about them for a few years), but that’s just how it feels to me. I don’t know why.