Another weekend, another cracking-great Visqueen live show. No big deal, except for the fact that it sorta was a big deal.
After a decade of jolting this town with some of the best sugar-buzz power pop in memory, Visqueen called it a day with a Fare-thee-Well show Saturday night at the Neptune. The capacity crowd sent much love the band’s way, and in return got one hell of a great show to go with the last hurrah.
Rachel Flotard, lead singer/guitarist/principal songwriter/Queen of Visqueen, richly earned the title of Superwoman by playing a blistering set of Visqueen pop gems while extremely pregnant–and in high-heeled boots. Punchy directness has always been Visqueen’s stock in trade, so the first half of the set was just Flotard, bassist Cristina Bautista, and drummer Ben Hooker driving it home.
That energy swelled to bittersweet levels as past Visqueen alumni jumped onstage, beginning a little over halfway through the show. Kim Warnick (Visqueen’s first bassist and a woman with a rock resume way too lofty for this brief scribbling) piped in with chirpy girl-group harmonies on “Lovely Guilty,” and guitarist Tom Cummings joined the band for several numbers. Cellist to the Northwest stars Barb Hunter sat in for half the set, subbing for some of the keyboard/string sweetening that surfaced on the band’s last long-player, Message to Garcia. Barrett Jones (who produced or co-produced most of Visqueen’s records) contributed backing vocals during “Hand Me Down.” Finally, steel guitar whiz Jon Rauhouse lent texture to the last few tracks with some richly weepy stringwork: His work added extra sentimental pull as Flotard and Bautista duetted sweetly on a spare reading of “So Long” for the show’s final encore.
Half the fun of a Visqueen show has always been the between-song horseplay, and the band didn’t disappoint on that front. Hooker, ever the goofball, bum-rushed a solid opening set by the reunited Broadcast Oblivion, duetting on drums with Oblivion drummer Coady Willis; and Flotard’s choice reminiscinces included gorging on discounted lentil beans at one particularly thankless East Coast gig. But this scrappy bunch allowed themselves time and breathing room to be sentimental, too. Towards the end, Flotard’s mom and Bautista’s and Hooker’s parents came onstage for hugs, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. You shoulda been there.