But does that stop us going back for more on Friday? Hell no. However, there were, as ever, some lessons learned last night. Apparently, bad reviews stick with some people longer than others. As a result, I found that it’s possible to be complimented graciously and called a douche on the same night. Naming no names negatively, but not everyone is as talented, humble and classy as Doop.
My intentions for Blowout Friday were to run from venue to venue seeing one or two songs from a ton of bands. It started out like that too, with your committed scribe taking in Heartbreak Dallas & the Unfaithfuls (cool alt-country with horns), Sex Police (recent City Slang star Alexis Ford’s fucking noisy and unrelenting one-woman-band), the Wrong Numbers (who were nailing it as ever), Troy Gregory (who had Baker’s Streetcar stomping), Chaw! (blues rockers featuring Mike Anton, now recovered from a bullet to the head), Bad Party (who did an evil version of “Purple Rain”) and the Skinny Wrists (featuring one half of the Secret Twins).
By that time, I was sick of the sight of my own car, so I went to Kelly’s to see Katie Grace, and stayed for her whole set. She was worth it too, the husky-voiced songstress can whack out a country gem with all of the know-how of someone three times her age with a damaged liver.
Now came the toughest selection dilemma of Blowout so far. With Doop & the Inside Outlaws, Lightning Love, the Sin-Bads and Fawn all clashing, I had a tough decision to make. In the end, I went with the New Dodge and Fawn purely because of location, and the fact that I haven’t seen them as many times as I would like. They were predictably awesome too.
Last stop was the Polish Alliance, where the sets were running about 30 minutes behind, so I caught most of the ever-great Kenny Tudrick’s set, and a bit of the surprisingly-great Body Holographic. That’s a band I want to see more of for sure.
And then there was Dwayne the Teenage Weirdo. What in the name of holy fuck do you say about this dude that he hasn’t already said himself in one of his many self-deprecating raps? He calls himself out for having no talent, and that’s his shtick. He manages to avoid getting tiresome by keeping his arty nonsense set brief. But he is undeniably entertaining while he’s up there, yelping and whining over beats with his eyes closed and his side-girl, the indescribable Nikky Velvet, grooving along. It’s like a cartoon car crash. It’s silly and disposable, but ultimately likeable and it’s impossible to say why. Oh, and the music caused two girls to nearly have a fight right at the front. Again, not sure why. It’s not exactly Negative Approach.
Another great Blowout night, all told.