Last Week Live: Owl City, Lights and Deas Vail
It's Friday night at Ram's Head Live and it's almost to 8 p.m. People pack the insides of the concert venue like too many sardines in one flimsy, multi-layered tin can. On the ground floor, pimply, adolescent boys dressed to the nines in fluorescent plaid clutch their shy, unassuming girlfriends to their chests.
On the upper levels, pre-teen girls grab at their flat chests in a melodramatic fashion, and let out screams of impossible pitch and length. A few adults cast astonished eyes over the complete pandemonium, but they are few and far between.
The lights go up, the screams increase and the opening band introduces itself. Members troupe out onto the stage to take their places. Their instruments include two keyboards, a drum set, a bass and a guitar.
A gorgeous brunette takes her place behind one of the keyboards, the singer takes his place behind the other.
"I love you, keyboard player!" a bro shouts around a swig of beer. The crowd hushes and, with a nod, Deas Vail begins to play.
As openers go, the Arkansas-based electro-rock group is surprisingly good. The band's songs draw firmly from the layering of sound, building a base with rhythm, working through canonical keyboard arpeggios and chords before applying a judicial amount of synthesizers.
The front man, a slightly androgynous man rocking scene hair and a ragged scarf, possesses a clear, carrying voice that rarely falters, while keyboardist sings counterpoint, higher, but just as sweet. The members seem a little nervous still; they don't move much from their stations.
Only the bassist gets into a groove, bopping along to the beat. Deas Vail, despite a ham-fisted drummer and stiff, uncomfortable guitarist, shows promise.
The noise between sets grows. The male population moves restlessly. Their darling, their ultimate jerk-off fantasy, takes the stage. Lights enjoys an almost unparalleled popularity in a scene made up of synth-pop, electronica and video game junkies.
On the upper levels, pre-teen girls grab at their flat chests in a melodramatic fashion, and let out screams of impossible pitch and length. A few adults cast astonished eyes over the complete pandemonium, but they are few and far between.
The lights go up, the screams increase and the opening band introduces itself. Members troupe out onto the stage to take their places. Their instruments include two keyboards, a drum set, a bass and a guitar.
A gorgeous brunette takes her place behind one of the keyboards, the singer takes his place behind the other.
"I love you, keyboard player!" a bro shouts around a swig of beer. The crowd hushes and, with a nod, Deas Vail begins to play.
As openers go, the Arkansas-based electro-rock group is surprisingly good. The band's songs draw firmly from the layering of sound, building a base with rhythm, working through canonical keyboard arpeggios and chords before applying a judicial amount of synthesizers.
The front man, a slightly androgynous man rocking scene hair and a ragged scarf, possesses a clear, carrying voice that rarely falters, while keyboardist sings counterpoint, higher, but just as sweet. The members seem a little nervous still; they don't move much from their stations.
Only the bassist gets into a groove, bopping along to the beat. Deas Vail, despite a ham-fisted drummer and stiff, uncomfortable guitarist, shows promise.
The noise between sets grows. The male population moves restlessly. Their darling, their ultimate jerk-off fantasy, takes the stage. Lights enjoys an almost unparalleled popularity in a scene made up of synth-pop, electronica and video game junkies.
Be the first to comment on this story