Homecoming show with Disasteradio
and Big Flip the Massive,
Bodega, Friday 5th September
This show caught me on a good day. I’d been for a run in the morning and had a day off work. I’d also picked that night for getting properly drunk for the first time in several months, so was buzzing with endorphins and alcohol when I belatedly headed to Bodega.
Did my unusually cheerful state of mind perhaps influence my experience more than is really permissible for a proper, balanced critique of it? A tricky dilemma. You may want to bear in mind reading this review that I was feeling too happy to be mean about anything.
Bodega was at a comfortable capacity, full enough for it not to feel empty but not so full to deny me my own dancing space. I only caught about thirty seconds of Big Flip the Massive’s set, but I remember angular melodies and Battles-like rhythms that really deserved more of my attention. I cursed my drunken laziness and vowed to catch more of their set next time.
Disasterradio (or D’Rad as his homies refer to him) followed Big Flip and thoroughly ruled. D’Rad is one of those notable musicians that even scene-haters enjoy, such is the unique character of his musical vision. He uses cheesy ‘80s synth sounds (that we all supposedly got over a year ago) to create pop-tinged dance music that is pure fun. Put like that it sounds like any other mediocre electro revival act, but the reality is the kind of thing all those other acts aspire to – danceable but intelligent, and oddly sarcastic, like he’s having a laugh at himself and his audience.
By the time Over the Atlantic hit the stage I’d started to sober up and become a bit more critical. Their set of dance and pop influenced rock was fun for a few songs but then I began to find it too sweet, too harmonious, to really get in to. Personal tastes for dissonance aside, I’d say that Over The Atlantic are not really anything to get too excited about. A decent dance rock band if you’re in to that kind of thing, but if you’re not, there is little chance you they will convert you.
On the other hand, while they didn’t score many points for originality, they were definitely tightly rehearsed and their energy on stage was faultless. Good drunk fun, and I don’t regret seeing them. The punters were satisfied, and so was I, still buzzing from Disasteradio’s supreme performance.
Somewhat Irrelevant Epilogue:
Things being how they are, I found myself in the latter half of the evening at the Mighty Mighty, and was struck by the shittiness of the late night DJs’ music choices. (This is not relevant at all to this review, but I feel it must be said). A plethora of ‘80s and ‘90s pop artists, perhaps some who are commendable in their own right, but jammed together like a bogus pick’n’mix with too many milk bottles. I was reminded uncomfortably of my high school party days, with the crowd singing along in the choruses and even air guitaring at appropriate moments.
On the walk I home, I mused that maybe the Mighty is tricking us. The facade may be more indie than the Courtenay bars, but the music is the same, and you still get hit on by many times older men. The only difference is the walls and the clothes. We must seriously consider this fact – what does it say about Wellingtonians?
And so to bed.