C. Randolph C.

About 12 o’clock I kidnapped Mike and Dan and took them to Now That’s Class–a bit of culture shock for them perhaps, but ultimately I think that’s exactly what they needed.

Missed out on the Dead Peasant Insurance last-minute fill-in. Always seem to just miss any show Ryan K is playing. It’s not intentional. Just bad timing. Chief Bromide had probably just gotten onstage, so we got our refreshments and headed into the music room (head-bustin’ loud, as always). They had a mood going there–dark blue lighting and dark downer psych.

That’s a damn fine mood to be in.

I’ve seen Matt Valerino play with lots of different bands over the past few years, but this is the first time I’ve seen Chief Bromide, and I’m pretty sure that’s “his” band moreso than any of the others. If not then he should just say it is, because Chief Bromide is hands down heads above anything else he’s associated with. First off, there’s actual songs (though of course we’re talking about Now That’s Class, so no one could hear any vocals). Good old song structure…nice to have that every once in awhile.

Matt traded riffs with a lovely young lady on a red guitar and another lovely young lady on a low-end heavy keyboard (no electric bass, very much like another Cleveland indie-psych band–guess who?). She also played electric violin once or twice. Drummer was great, spot-on, power when required. The tunes sucked me in immediately–yeah, you could say I’m down with that psychedelic drone-swirl stuff. I don’t care if it’s been done a million times before, or that they jam on two chords like VU for 10 minutes at a time. There’s enough changes and enough going on with the drums to keep one engaged, if one pays attention to subtlety. I get off on subtlety. Don’t like being bludgeoned over the head.

Unless it’s 9VHH doing the bludgeoning. Which they did. They brought out the heavy artillery for this here slugfest, they brought out some f—ing attitude (that’s not far below the surface for Craig, I’m thinkin’), they brought out a cool Vox guitar (Matt) and they brought out a busted-in-half Strat (Craig), and yes, of course, they brought out a trash can. What 9V show would be complete with some sort of reference to garbage?

Yeah, I don’t what the fellas was drinking or eating, but they was filled with ANGST last night, and the music came screaming out with teeth bared and fists pumping too. Beats were fractured and broken, sonic shards of glass shredding tender ear canals (bring your earplugs, dummies). Craig hit the broken Strat pickups (no neck, just a body) with a drumstick or other implement, and he weren’t f—ing around, man he was beating that poor bastard. Matt’s keyboard was getting tossed around (pretty sure that was a cheapie, not the good one) and then he proceeded to abuse that Vox (Now That’s a Crying Shame) and then he got rough with the trash can and I think the Vox ended up in the trash can.

F—in’ yikes! The whole set lasted maybe 15 minutes, and everyone wanted more, but Craig looked like he just went 15 rounds with, uhh, some big boxer guy (yeah…I don’t follow boxing, so that simile loses), drenched in sweat, so that was it.

“It’s fun to have fun.”

And the related photos are by the Animographer and Laura the Red!
Cheers!