A Cozy Evening for Paranoiacs with Out of the Anonymous and Friends

Out of the Anonymous with Astro Blak, Space Between Words and Bulletproof Tiger

Fox's Sherron Inn

Friday, February 25, 2011

Better than: Staying in and letting personal delusions take over.

While I find the ongoing capital improvements to Fox's somewhat inspiring, I'm having a hard time judging the depth of the bar's new look. And I mean the bar itself.

It's now like one of those trendy "open kitchen"-looking deals. The behind-the-scenes mystery is gone. The claustrophobia that makes this place dear is giving way to agoraphobia. And all these phobias translate well for the local kings of paranoiac soundtracks, Out of the Anonymous.

To say the dimly lit environs of Fox's is not a good match would be a buttered lie. Buttered like my liver on Friday night. According to our venue description, this joint might be known for "notoriously stiff" martinis. But believe you me, it was the rum and colas that were stiff that night. And by golly, did that go well with the olio of bands that took to the cornered "stage."

The opener was a cat by the name of Astro Blak. And he teleported us to the late '90s with a set of abrasive, drum 'n' bass-inspired electronics which got the crowd jolted the right way. And at this point, I will freely admit that I honestly thought OOTA would be the only performers of the night. But boy, was I in for a treat when rockers Space Between Words got in on it as well as Bulletproof Tiger debuting (for me anyway) their new drummer.

This hodgepodge kind of reminded me of the old "punk vs. drum 'n' bass" parties my boy Ben Carrasco used to throw back in the day. So mentally, I was in a good spot. A spot conducive for good music, good drinks, and the camaraderie of good friends. And then it got dark. Dark in the very good, very Lynchian way. The trio of Ulysses Perez, Henry Rajan, and Buffalo Brown never disappoints live. And like I noted reviewing their latest album CD Number Four last week, this is the best way to catch them.

I would love to sit here and tell you which tracks filled the air that night. But I can't, because there is something anonymous (pun intended) about this band's live engagements that seemed finally right at home. I suspect the little corner that acts as Fox's "stage" is exactly the kind of cavernous darkness where OOTA create in the first place.

And it is in this creepy setting where I began to question how much I had imbibed? What kind of life choices I had made that day? If I left the stove on? Will my taxes be the same dismal affair they were last year? Am I pregnant? Am I getting psychosomatic? Do I worship golden calves? Am I bald enough? Are Joyce Carol Oates and John Updike the most overrated authors in America? Is this it? Is this it? is this it?

Yes, it is. 

Critic's Notebook

The Crowd: A typical Friday night at Fox's. Diners trickle out and younger drinkers come in. A good mix.

Overheard in the Crowd: "Fuck dude! (to me) How many drinks did you say I owed you?!"

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