Glazin' Release Party
With Loose Stools, Snakehole, and The Jameses
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Better Than: Pricey perspiration therapy at a hippie health retreat.
Getting drunk. Eating cheap. Forgetting to take our vitamins. We're pretty much permanently polluted. But Saturday night, it was time to release some nasty toxins.
The Crossfade prescription: Perspiring till we almost died with the Jacuzzi Boys.
In just three weeks, the Boys are gonna be Glazin' across the nation on a 35-show US tour. But before setting off on America's highways for an autumn packed with rockin', rollin', and related activities, singer and guitar guy Gabriel Alcala, bassist Danny Gonzalez, and drummer Diego Monasterios decided to turn Churchill's Pub into a late-summer sweat fest.
The night's drippingly awesome musical entertainment began with Loose Stools, two Miami smartasses masquerading as a couple of good ol' country boys -- Bo and Luke -- doing dude-on-dude duets.
Dudded up in cowboy boots, tight jeans, and a Miller High Life ranch hat, Bo's instrument was a toy guitar equipped with a built-in daiquiri to-go cup. Meanwhile, working with a banjo, Luke sported rubber boots, electric blue short shorts, and an "In the Rut" sweatshirt bearing the image of a horny buck with a sex-crazed smile on its face.
They did funny-crappy karaoke versions of Top 40 hits including "Islands in the Stream," "Angel of the Morning," and Paula Cole's "I Don't Want to Wait," all spiced up with hilariously graphic homoerotic lyrics like "So spread apart those pasty thighs/And butter up that sweet brown eye/You know that if you spend the night/You're gonna have to tell your wife."
We laughed. But the sweating was kept to a minimum.
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Next, Snakehole's Autumn, Julie, and KC slinked out onto the stage. And they weren't fucking joking.
Bathed in green haze, the all-female threesome shredded through a loud, fast, and psychologically volatile set of post-hardcore stuff like "Dark Phase," "I Smell Boys," and "Residue/Nightmares."
Now if you haven't previously slithered through the Snakehole, these girls give off a giddily dark and dangerously heavy vibe. Imagine late-era Black Flag crawling inside Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to spawn three full-grown punk chicks with black eyes, bloody hands, and a whole batch of intense sex-and-violence scorchers.
A sweat-soaked mosh was already thrashing from wall to wall. But apparently, that wasn't enough. And at one point, lead screamer Autumn tossed a pretty extreme ultimatum at the already spazzing mob: "If I don't see some crowdsurfing, I'm going home and killing myself."
And so the crowd surfed.
As midnight came, went, and drifted off behind us, The Jameses unfurled some swirlingly psychedelic stuff.
Momentarily exhausted by Snakehole's onslaught, indie chicks and beer hippies crouched at the edge of the stage, slipping into trance-like appreciation of the tuneage, while less drunk and/or dehydrated types bounced off bodies, shaking, swaying, flailing, stumbling, and occasionally pogo-ing.
Like almost always, the peak of The Jameses' set was their thrillingly hypnotic ode to the great vast beyond, "The Haunted Rider," a galloping sing-along that's loaded with supercatchy pop magick and split-second glimpses of the apocalypse. The mob spun into a frenzy. The dancing became dangerous again. And invisible squalls of body heat crashed and thrashed.
A half-hour and a couple of hot beers later, the sweatiest set of the night got going as the Jacuzzi Boys' Gabriel, Danny, and Diego strode up onto the stage, snatched up their instruments, and shouted their way through soundcheck.
Instantly, people started to strip. Dudes shed totally soaked t-shirts. A few girls got rid of suffocating items of inessential clothing. Even the Boys' Danny slung his bass across a bare chest.
And then, upping the ante, Gabriel announced that he and the Churchill's barman had done a bit of serious betting on the release party's attendance level. The barman wagered that the crowd wouldn't exceed 350 human beings. Of course, Gabriel took the upper range. The loser would get naked onstage. The winner would laugh his ass off.
According to the door guy's official count, the audience numbered approximately 600. And so the barman slipped out of his shirt and dropped his pants to his knees. The undies stayed on. But still, Gabriel smirked, smug and victorious.
After the strip show, Gabriel thanked each and every one of the Boys' original fans, old friends, and brand-new BFFs. "I wanna thank all the people who came to a show or bought a record," he mumbled into the mike, his voice chilled-out and lightly reverb'd. "Thank you sooo fucking much!"
And then straight away, the Boys tore into a speedy string of favorite jams off both their debut No Seasons and Glazin', coasting from "Vizcaya" to "Coral Girls" to "Cool Vapors" without a hiccup.
Soon, the mosh got whipped into a frothy fucking whirlpool. And the Boys' tossed out "Island Ave.," "Glazin'," and "Smells Dead." The crowd recklessly surfed sweaty seas while "Bricks," "Fruits," and "Koo Koo With You" tried to suck 'em into the undertow. And by the end of the show, there wasn't a dry and sober survivor among us.
So yeah ... Even though Crossfade claimed in the runup to Saturday's release bash that Gabriel, Danny, and Diego wouldn't really "melt your face off" or "blow your mind," we, uh, might have been wrong.
We went expecting a lil' perspiration therapy. But these dudes sucked us dry.
The Crowd: A drunk, drenched, and dehydrated mess of 600 hipsters, crusty punks, recovering rockers, indie burnouts, and barely legal superfans.
Jacuzzi Boys' Setlist:
-"Planet of the Dreamers"
-"Space Cake '85"
-"Libras & Zebras"
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-"Koo Koo With You"