Tag Archives: Chop Suey Seattle

Arts & Entertainment

Your Live Music Bets for the Weekend of January 16 through January 18

January 16, 2015 Tony Kay

Tacocat lead singer Emily Nokes will turn that frown upside down at Chop Suey Sunday. (photo: Tony Kay)

To those of you clamoring for more posts here at ye olde semi-dormant SunBreak, you’re the greatest. Both of you.

Most weekends in this ‘burg are pretty stacked musically, but this one’s especially resplendent with sonic riches, some suffused with significant bittersweetness. Read on.

Friday, January 16 (tonight!)

Garageland Fest with The Paul Collins Beat, Rich Hands, Acapulco Lips, The Gods Themselves, The Knast, and heaps more @ LoFi Performance Gallery. 21+. $12 advance/$15 at the door. Doors open at 5 p.m.

Power pop elder statesman Paul Collins never quite made the impact of late ’70s peers like The Knack and Cheap Trick, but that wasn’t for want of insidious sugary hooks goosed with new wave jumpiness. Collins is onto something pretty awesome of late with Garageland Fest, a touring mini-festival headlined by Collins and his band The Beat that showcases bands native to each tour stop. That means you’ll hear a bunch of great Seattle outfits before Collins takes the stage tonight, including the walloping-great hard-pop stylings of Acapulco Lips, guaranteed post-punk-gone-garage-funk nirvana with SunBreak faves The Gods Themselves, and the tasty fuzztone-seasoned sixties revivalism of The Knast, among others. Expect indie vinyl retailers, an unplugged happy hour, and DJs to give you even more reasons to skip work early, and to stay late.

Katie Kate, Tangerine, Thunderpussy, Peeping Tomboys @ The Vera Project. All ages. $10 advance/$15 at the door. Show at 7 p.m.

Four strong local acts populate this fundraiser for Seattle-based non-profit Skate Like a Girl. Katie Kate‘s dance pop dips into hip-hop and electronica with equal grace, and sunny pop ensemble Tangerine took me by very pleasant surprise at Bumbershoot last Labor Day. Local all-femme supergroup Thunderpussy stomp out throbbing groove rock with balls as big as any all-dude band, and Peeping Tomboys sound like a bunch of riot grrrls weaned on tribal post-punk.

Chuck Prophet, The Tripwires @ The Tractor Tavern. 21+. $15 at the door. Show at 9 p.m.

Californian Chuck Prophet played in the underrated but pretty awesome Green on Red back in the 80s. His solo work for the last three decades has seen him de-emphasize his former band’s psychedelic touches in favor of a sturdy roots-rock sound–songs that’d sound ideal in a last-chance bar where Bruce Springsteen and Lou Reed share drinks. Get there early to hear The Tripwires, a terrific local power-pop band that includes alumnus from Screaming Trees, The Minus 5, The Young Fresh Fellows, and the Model Rockets.

Saturday, January 17

The Young Evils, Blood Drugs, Hounds of the Wild Hunt @ The Sunset Tavern. 21+. $8 advance/$10 at the door. Show at 9 p.m.

The Young Evils nearly hit the major label big-time last year, until complications with said major label jerked them around to a pretty lame degree. It’s a long story with a happy ending: The Evils got to keep their recordings from those ill-fated sessions. The initial fruit of those labors, last year’s False Starts EP, made for an addictive and awesome companion piece to their equally awesome 2012 Foreign Spells EP. As is frequently the case, early arrival is a must: Blood Drugs‘ scraping art-metal should translate impressively live, and Hounds of the Wild Hunt remain one of Seattle’s flat-out best live rock ensembles.

Hellbat, Silty Loam, The Heels, Bugs @ Blue Moon Tavern. 21+. $6 at the door. Show at 9 p.m.

Hellbat combines rolling psych organs, a driving punk rhythm section, gleefully unhinged call-and-response vocals, and willfully silly lyrics to happiness-inducing effect. The end result sounds like an art-punk band like X Ray Spex providing the soundtrack as Yoko Ono, Kate Pierson, and Jello Biafra beat the shit out of each other, and if the resulting anarchy isn’t fun as hell onstage, I’ll eat one of the two hats I own.

Grayskul, The Nightcappers, Imaginary Friends, guests @ The High Dive. 21+. $8 advance/$10 at the door. Show at 9 p.m.

The E-40 show at the Showbox Sunday night will surely draw a bigger crowd (and it’s got Nacho Picasso providing what’ll be a hell of a warmup), but local boys Grayskul sport imagination and smarts that deserve an equally sizable turnout. They couple their rhymes with a production style that swaddles addictive beats in a wonderfully glitchy and constantly changing framework. And if they’re not as abundant with the party jams as E-40, Grayskul give your brain a little more to chew on, in a good way.

Sunday, January 18

Another One Bites the Dust with Tacocat, Pony Time, Wimps, Kithkin, Chastity Belt, Universe People, Childbirth, and more @ Chop Suey. 21+. $10 day of show. Show at 4 p.m.

Don’t you love how Seattle squashes its smaller live venues by lunging at development dollars like a mentally-defective toddler stepping on ducklings to get to a gooey candy bar? If by some stretch of the imagination you answered no, then get thee the hell over to Capitol Hill dive Chop Suey for one of its last gasps as a proper music space. It’s impossible to fault the lineup here–picks to click include Tacocat’s sunny yet snarky pop, Kithkin’s always-unbelievable ocean of rhythm, and Childbirth’s hilariously nasty female-centric punk–and the first 250 discounted admissions sold rapidly. Get ready for a long line–and a probable sell-out well before the nights’ end.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

Guitar Wolf Generate Killing Jet Noise!! (Photo Gallery)

October 15, 2013 Tony Kay

Trash Fire, opening for Guitar Wolf. (Photo: Tony Kay)

Two-man groove rock with Coward. (Photo: Tony Kay)

Denver band, The Coathangers. (Photo: Tony Kay)

Guitar Wolf bashing out jet rock and roll. (Photo: Tony Kay)

Guitar Wolf in action. (Photo: Tony Kay)

Toru, Drum Wolf of Guitar Wolf. (Photo: Tony Kay)

(Photo: Tony Kay)

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Let it officially be stated for the record that Guitar Wolf remain the most lethal live rock band on the planet, even on a Tuesday. The Japanese trio made that clear last week at Chop Suey, as they bashed out their three-chord garage punk to a sweaty and appreciative house.

After 25 years delivering Jet Rock and Roll, it’s not surprising that Guitar Wolf’s got their presentation down to an art form. Singer/guitarist Seiji flailed, swaggered, and attacked his guitar with broad punk-hero gestures and gravity-defying energy; drummer Toru and bass player U.G. generated a rhythm section that sounds like cavemen pounding on oil drums with big-ass clubs; and all three band members resemble anime versions of the Ramones, replete with primitive rock hooks, shades, and leather-jacketed whippet-thin cool. Their act remains exhilarating rock theatre, in large part because they continue to deliver it with the fierce, go-for-broke commitment of true believers.

Guitar Wolf wielded enough showmanship for any twelve lesser live bands, so the awesomeness of the opening acts provided an unexpected bonus. The Coathangers‘ slashing, sloppy pop smeared lipstick all over post-punk minimalism, while Coward laid out some swaggering arena rock with an indie twist. Best of the openers was Seattle band Trash Fire, who combined breakneck tempos and minute-long songs with just the right pinch of power-pop tunefulness — Cheap Trick, accidentally dosing on some wicked meth.

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Arts & Entertainment, Music

Your Live Music Bets for the Weekend of July 19 through the 21st

July 19, 2013 Tony Kay

Dude York play Cairo on Saturday. (photo by Tony Kay)

We’re one weekend away from two big local music festivals, but this humble weekend’s no slouch in the live music department, either.

Tonight (Friday, July 19):

Black Flag, Good for You, Piggy @ El Corazon. 21+. $30 at the door. Show at 8 p.m.

If you’re not one of the 40,000-odd sentient beings packing Safeco Field tonight to see a certain reasonably-well-known singer-songwriter ply his venerated wares, Two smaller venues are offering nostalgia trips of their own for a fraction of the price.

California born-and-bred punk legends Black Flag are probably best known today as post-modern raconteur Henry Rollins‘ old punk band, but back in the day (the late 1970s through the mid-’80s) they exerted a massive influence on American hardcore by ladling on heavy metal crunch along with the usual ripsaw power chords. You won’t get Rollins at the mic tonight, but vocalist Ron Reyes is back after a 30-year-plus absence, and original guitarist Greg Ginn can still shred with the best of ‘em.

Peter Murphy celebrates 35 Years of Bauhaus, Ours @ Showbox Market. 21+. $40 at the door. Show at 8 p.m.

Then again, if hanging in the lovably grotty El Corazon with some grizzled old punks doesn’t appeal to you, feel free to jaunt over to the Showbox Market — and don’t forget the jet-black eyeliner. Peter Murphy, lead crooner for quintessential gother-than-Goths Bauhaus, jumps into the wayback machine for a set comprised of 100-percent classic Bauhaus tunes. It’s hard to imagine Murphy’s backing musicians possessing the chemistry of his old Bauhaus-mates, and it’s a little bit of a bummer that he won’t be playing any of the songs from his most recent (and pretty great) solo release Ninth. But Bauhaus’ songs remain some of the most durable in the Goth canon, and Murphy still sounds like David Bowie’s ravishingly sinister twin brother.

The Torn ACLs, Tom Eddy, The Wild Ones, My Body @ Neumos. 21+. $10 at the door. Show at 8 p.m.

The Torn ACLs provide a damn near perfect soundtrack for summer’s dog days — unashamedly wide-eyed, insidiously catchy guitar pop sung and played with the kind of youthful freshness that thaws jaded hipsters at fifty paces. Get there early for a solo set of wonderfully buoyant kitchen-sink tunes from Beat Connection lead singer Tom Eddy, sprightly Cranberries-style shenanigans from Portland’s The Wild Ones, and electronic-tinged pop from My Body.

Saturday, July 20:

Wimps, Satan Wriders, Dude York, The Narx, @ Cairo. All Ages. Show at 9 p.m.

WIth their braying, bratty vocals, primitive guitars, and call-and-response chanting, Wimps sound like the really funny bastard children of Superchunk and Sleater-Kinney. They’re reputedly a kick live, too. Endearingly lo-fi combo Satan Wriders sounds like some lost K Records band, Dude York sport galloping art-punk tunes good enough to make you forget that damned goofy name, and The Narx are straight-up crude/funny punk. Your guess is as good as mine as to a cover charge (if any).

Ivan Neville’s Dumpstaphunk, Down North @ The Tractor Tavern. 21+. $20 advance. Show at 9 p.m.

Ivan Neville, son of legendary New Orleans singer Aaron and nephew to the Neville Brothers, recorded one of the great overlooked psychedelic soul songs of the last twenty-odd years, “Why Can’t I Fall in Love.” His assured and powerful soul singing rivals that of any of his rock-royalty relatives, and if his backing band Dumpstaphunkleans a little towards over-slickness sometimes, they’re also ineffably in-the-pocket tight and should provide a sound dance party for the evening. Local funketeers Down North, however, could well steal the show with an amazing rhythm section and Anthony Briscoe’s show-stopping singing.

Sunday, July 21:

Hamilton Loomis @ Jazzbones. $15 advance. Show at 6 p.m.

Blues guitarist/singer Hamilton Loomis is one of those absurdly-skilled axe-slinging prodigies that inspires slack-jawed awe from anyone who sees him live. No less a luminary than the late, great Bo Diddley recorded and played live with Loomis a few years back, and the guy’s fired off licks live at multiple jazz and blues festivals throughout the US and Europe. Sunday’s gig serves as a CD release party for Loomis’s newest long-player Give it Back, a slick modern-day blues record with flashes of mainstream pop and funk. It’s a capable showcase for the young Texan’s singing and playing, but like any absurdly-skilled axe-slinging prodigy, Loomis and his songs will shine brightest in a live setting.

Benefit for Keith Bailey: The New Originals, Load Levelers, LD and her Pretty Pretties @ Chop Suey. $10 suggested donation. Show at 3 p.m.

Beloved Anvil Tattoo artist Keith Bailey had his shinbones crushed in a nasty motorcycle accident, and the medical bills are doing him a number in a major way. This benefit at Chop Suey serves up no less than three terrific local bands. Sloppy-as-fuck-and-proud-of-it metal cover-band collective The New Originals barrel through vintage hard-rock classics like a woozy bull in a china shop, the venerable Load Levelers‘ rip-snorting brand of country-punk should be can’t-miss live , and you can’t dream of better summertime party music than the recently-reunited LD and Her Pretty Pretties’ potent brand of Runaways/Donnas-style power-pop .

Arts & Entertainment, Music

Your Live Music Bets for the Weekend of October 5th to the 7th

October 5, 2012 Tony Kay

There’s so much good live music hitting Seattle venues in the next three weeks, it’s scary. That’s as close to a Halloween pun as you’ll get. Carry on.

Tonight (Friday, October 5):

Walking Papers, A Leaf, Dylan Trees @ Barboza. $8 day of show. Show at 7pm.

If you’ve read Clint Brownlee’s exhaustive SunBreak interview with Walking Papers (go here and here, respectively, to catch up), you know that the band’s rock pedigree couldn’t be more solid. Yes, ex-Guns ‘N Roses bassist Duff McKagan and ex-Screaming Trees drummer Barrett Martin form a rhythm section that grooves as readily as it pummels, but Jeff Angell’s growling vocals and Jimmy Page-flavored guitar licks make for some great frosting on this rock cake. You also know to get there really damned early. Lucky for you, your time waiting for the headliners will be well-served by Tacoma/Seattle quintet A Leaf, whose lush and gorgeous Beatles-cum-Shins pop makes for an incongruous but arresting warm-up.

Kultur Shock, Kinski @ Chop Suey. $12 at the door. Show at 9pm.

Kultur Shock start their sixteenth year as a unit behind a great new EP, Tales of Granpa Guru, Vol. 1. It throws elements of prog-rock conceptual density and dance music into this wonderful punk/metal/gypsy polyglot ‘s potent stew, and as we’ve repeatedly emphasized time and again, they’re an utterly lethal live act. The presence of Seattle avant-rock ensemble Kinski on the bill makes early arrival a necessity: They extract magic, horror, and beauty from a wall of feedback and atmosphere–all without a singer to harsh your head trip.

Piss Drunks, Midnight Idols, Three-Legged Dog @ Slim’s Last Chance Chili Shack and Watering Hole. $12 at the door. Show at 9:00pm.

With a name like Piss Drunks, you know not to expect introspective beardies with mandolins simpering about unrequited love in a forest. Seattle’s hellzapoppin’ hardcore vets (nearly twenty years of active duty) deliver short and to-the-point blasts of punk, and no one in town does it better.

Saturday, October 6:

Seattle Weekly’s Reverb Local Music Festival @ Various Ballard Venues. $5-$15 advance, $15 day of show. Shows begin at 4:30pm.

Nestled between some of this town’s bigger music festivals (late September’s Decibel Fest and the upcoming City Arts Fest, respectively), Reverb can be easy to neglect. But it presents 50 different local bands in 8 Ballard venues, all in one night for one impossibly cheap price. There’s an obscene amount of good stuff at your disposal with your admission, but we’re extra-psyched about the Hilliard’s Brewery line-up (prime horn-fueled vintage funk legislators Soul Senate, space-age hip-hop/ambient wizard OCnotes, and mindfuck drum/synth outfit Brain Fruit, among others); the Tractor Tavern’s alloy of roots (Americana supergroup Cosmic Panther Land Band) and balls-out Seattle rawk (veteran Seattle survivors Sweet Water); and the Sunset’s indie-rock cornucopia capped off by Erik Blood’s sleek shoegazing paeans to porn.

The Psychedelic Furs, The Chevin @ Showbox at the Market. $21.50 advance, $25 day of show. Show at 8pm.

For about three years running in the early 1980s, The Psychedelic Furs were the greatest band of the new wave era. Singer Richard Butler’s magnificant rasp of a voice epitomized wounded romance, and the band’s mixture of scruffy post-punk guitar and sixties melodies led to three incredible records–1980’s eponymous debut, 1981’s Talk Talk Talk, and 1982’s Forever Now. They haven’t recorded a new record since Clinton first took office, but who the hell cares? The band sounded aces at Red Hook Brewery’s 30th Anniversary show last year, and Butler’s sandpaper croon and serpentine cool remain ageless.

Sunday, October 7:

Thee Oh Sees, Sic Alps @ The Neptune. $15 advance. Show at 7pm.

Thank you, San Francisco, for unleashing more bat-shit crazy psych-rock/garage rock bands on an unsuspecting world than you can shake a delay pedal at. And thank you especially for Thee Oh Sees, whose shambling and sexy surf-rock-on-heavy-duty-hallucinogens live shows officially make life worth living. Someone make a John Dwyer action figure, stat: I’d buy it.

not an Airplane, Zoe Boekbinder @ Columbia City Theater. $5 day of show. Doors at 7pm, show at 8pm.

not an Airplane (no, that’s not a typo) play solid Americana, largely distinguished by lead singer/songwriter Nick Shattell’s nervy decision to build his band’s latest album, It Could Just Be This Place, out of two fifteen-minute roots operettas (Rolling Stone liked it lots). Zoe Boekbinder, meantime, is a whole ‘nother animal. The Canadian expat possesses a throaty, odd voice that she loops over itself, singing songs that combine folk, cabaret, and electronica in a head-scratching but strangely magical swirl.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

Redd Kross Still Do (Peach Kelli) Power Pop Right

September 13, 2012 Tony Kay

Brian Jonestown x Oingo Boingo + The Cramps = Dante vs. Zombies. (photo by Tony Kay)

Redd Kross's Jeff McDonald does the Rock and Roll Pigeon Toe. (photo by Tony Kay)

Steve McDonald rocks on behalf of Redd Kross. (photo by Tony Kay)

Roy and Jeff McDonald, drummer and frontman respectively, of Redd Kross. (photo by Tony Kay)

Jason of Redd Kross inspires guitar (and striped pants) envy. (photo by Tony Kay)

(photo by Tony Kay)

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Twenty years from now, somebody’s gonna make a film about Redd Kross.

The California band’s accumulated a history straight out of a movie. Guitarist/singer Jeff McDonald and his bassist/singer brother Steve have been playing together since 1978 (when they were 15 and 11, respectively), and their band burst from the first wave of LA punk in 1980 with loud/fast songs that were more fixated on snarky humor (“Notes and Chords Mean Nothing to Me”) and pop-culture references (“Linda Blair”, “Solid Gold”) than punk’s usual barrage of ripsaw anger.

At the close of the 1980’s, when the tide of Grunge was just starting to surge, Redd Kross swam upstream–four dandies in flash ’70’s threads who’d evolved into a compulsively catchy and irresistible power-pop band. The McDonalds were Lennon and McCartney…if John and Paul were goofy US blood-kin raised on a diet of schlock TV, sugar-coated breakfast cereals, and KISS arena-rock riffs.

The early 1990’s looked like they’d be boom times for the band. They put out their best record (the mind-blowingly awesome Phaseshifter) in 1993, collected fans like Kurt Cobain and Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore (who once called them “one of the most important bands in America”), and saw their influence rub off on other bands (put Stone Temple Pilots‘ “Big Bang Baby” next to any Redd Kross song of the era, and you’ll wonder why the McDonalds didn’t file a plagarism lawsuit, for God’s sake). But for some reason, the brothers and their rotating line-up of co-conspirators never became big stars. The world, it seems, was more interested in flannel-wrapped cathartic wailing than in a rock band that actually laughed at itself (and the world around it) while kicking out the jams.

All of this backstory is apropos of nothing, save the fact that–after a decade-plus off the radar–Redd Kross were in Seattle last Friday night playing a free show at Chop Suey, and that they rocked like holy hell.

Redd Kross work even the tiniest stages like fun-loving cartoon versions of rock stars, armed with a spirit of puckish humor that always let fans in on the joke. Last Friday proved no exception as Steve played bass with hair-flipping grandeur and Jeff strutted around the tiny stage like a Hanna-Barbera version of Mick Jagger. Ably bolstered by drummer Roy McDonald (no relation) and a pretty great fill-in guitarist named Jason (missed his last name, sorry), RK tore through a set that never stopped for a breath.

The band bashed out shoulda-been massive hits like “Annie’s Gone” and “Jimmy’s Fantasy” with sunny Fab Four harmonies and brass-balled guitar crunch potent enough to pop eardrums around the block. The catalyst for their reunion–a great new long-player, Researching the Blues–was represented with three selections, the highlight being a forceful reading of the garage-rocking title track. All through the set Jeff, Steve, and company laughed, had fun, and made damn sure that the audience did the same.

Ironically, I got some great shots of openers Dante vs. Zombies (a really good LA band that sounded like the Brian Jonestown Massacre at a new wave house party), but my camera cried Uncle through much of the headliners’ set. I was tempted to blame Chop Suey’s execrable lighting at first, but Redd Kross rocked so hard, maybe my photographic equipment just couldn’t take it. The packed house that night would surely concur.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

City Arts Fest Trips Out and Rocks It Up Closing Weekend (Photo Gallery)

October 27, 2011 Tony Kay

The main liability to the plethora of great musical acts playing 2011’s City Arts Fest was, well, the plethora of great musical acts playing 2011’s City Arts Fest.

I could go all glass half-empty and bemoan missing Seattle’s favorite garage-soul sons Pickwick Friday night. Or I could whinge interminably about the Fest’s (understandably) unpredictable rhythms making it impossible for me to hear the mighty Mudhoney punish eardrums at Neumos on Saturday. Hell, I would–if I hadn’t caught some amazing things anyway.

Brave souls who ventured out from CAF’s nucleus of Capitol Hill/downtown clubs on Friday to take in The Helio Sequence’s sold-out show at the Laser Dome reaped rich rewards: The Portland duo proved revelatory as live accompanists to a full-on laser show. Drummer/keyboardist Benjamin Weikel and guitarist Brandon Summers have always wrapped their considerable songwriting chops in layers of sound, and in this live setting the band pretty much eased up the busy electronic/analog duality of their recordings in favor of Summers’ textural guitar and Weikel’s incredibly musical time-keeping.

The resulting swirl of sound rendered the most evocative laser-show visuals sublime; and when the streaks and shapes of light and color threatened to get cheesy, the band made for a compelling audio-visual focus. Weikel–all lanky staccato motion and jackhammer force–reinforced his standing one of the most energetic and watchable drummers in the Northwest, and Summers’ John-Lennon-cum-Dylan-gone-shoegazer voice provided perfect compliment to his cabinet of effects-pedal curiosities. If there’s another active band out there that generates a more harmonious blend of psychedelia, traditional rock, and new-wave oddness than these guys, I have yet to hear ‘em.

Saturday night, meantime, felt like the Night of the Underdog at Chop Suey, with four terrific rock acts playing their hearts out to a sparse-but-enthusiastic house well into the wee hours. Odds are, you probably weren’t there; and if you weren’t, it was your loss.

The Fucking Eagles hail from the Underdog Capitol of the State (Tacoma), so their brand of garage rock felt as genuine and dirty-fingernailed as it was timeless. And with a line-up that included a harmonica player and two tambourine-slinging sirens alongside their guitars/bass/drum foundation, their compact tunes buzzed with the loose-limbed fervor of a soul revue. The imperfect sound mix muddied up things some (that harp got lost in the din), but the band played too ferociously to give a shit.

Virgin Islands contrasted things with songs that punched just as hard, but with more precision–post-punk rabbit punches to The Fucking Eagles’ old-school rock-and-roll coldcock. Frontman Michael Jaworski probably didn’t endear himself to Fest organizers with his references to ‘the Shitty Farts Fest,’ but his goofing leavened the socio-political intensity of his vocal attack, and even in the stark directness of VI’s delivery, all sorts of cool touches surfaced: Christopher Meyer’s shards of broken-glass guitar squealing, Jaworski’s and bassist Charles Keller’s persuasively-barked vocal harmonies, and Keller’s and drummer Aaron Ball’s whiplash-inducing rhythm section delivered, big-time.

It’s always great to see a band totally march to the beat of their own drummer, and Unnatural Helpers did that, literally. Singer/drummer Dean Whitmore is a real original, a baby-faced pounder with an endearing scream/yelp that comes on like Black Francis at a greasy beer-soaked house party, and his songs combine punk-rock spit with a throbbing go-go backbeat. I couldn’t name the other current members of the Helpers’ line-up (Whitmore’s band’s roster has included at least a dozen different hired guns over the last few years), but they did his great tunes rough justice Saturday night.

England’s Male Bonding finished things out with a set that rocked as enjoyably as the rest of the night’s local-grown acts, but with a nicely tart limey (sorry) twist. It’s easy to see why their US label Sub Pop’s fallen so hard for ‘em: their brand of sugar-buzz guitar pop packs a gaggle of irresistible touchstones (The Kinks, Teenage Fanclub, The Buzzcocks) into a bundle of youthful energy and sunny harmonies. If a band like this does this sort of thing wrong, they sound as quaint as a dusty rock reference book; but if they do it right, they knock the cobwebs off with life-affirming joy. And damned if I wasn’t grinning wide enough to split my face open after Male Bonding finished their set. Consider me smitten.