Dasher, Glen Iris, Knaves Grave, Coathangers

I’d wanted to see Heartless Bastards at The Earl but the show sold out in advance so I went with plan B at hit the Star Bar for Knaves Grave and Coathangers’ show. Glen Iris had been added to the bill in the last week or two. By the time I got through the door, Dasher had also been added. Four fine bands for something like $8? Maybe it was $10 but it would’ve been a bargain at twice the price.

Dasher are a local three-piece with a female lead singer on drums. I have a harder time connecting when a band has a drummer lead singer. There’s something about having her at the back of the stage half hidden by a drum kit that bothers me.

From what I remember, they reminded me of various 90’s alt rock acts.

I enjoyed the guitarist’s stack of mini-amps, particularly in contrast to the wall of amps that Jucifer will be bringing to town later this month, or Dick Dale will be bringing in April.

The reason I couldn’t really remember them clearly wasn’t due to alcohol (for once.) Instead, credit or blame Glen Iris for a brain meltdown.

I’d seen them several times before, but it had been a while. They have Justin, former Rock*A*Teen, and Chris, from Brass Castle, blazing away on guitar. They’ve added a bassist who is all bones and tits but can goddamn wail on them four strings.

Chris stands somewhat stoically, as if cranking out technical rock, somewhere between the hard and math categories, were effortless. He and Justin produce an interesting mix of harmonic guitar, separate lead guitars, and your standard rhythm/lead sound. The drummer’s Trogdor t-shirt was a perfect compliment to the monster sound.

The new bassist was bobbing and weaveing like mad, clearly feeling it. They gave her singing duty on a crunchy cover of Blondie’s Heart of Glass.

Heck, I was feeling it too. I immediately bought their CD after the show, only to lose it somewhere between the Star Bar, Little 5 Pizza, and home. Argh. (By the way, there is a different band called “Glen Iris” on MySpace, not to be confused with this band.)

Next up, Knaves Grave. Again, I felt like I was hearing 90’s alt rock – not in a bad way, it just felt very familiar.

In the front row I spotted another rock critic who is somewhat famous on the local scene. I suspect he will issue rave reviews of the band, since he is well known to favor any band with young, attractive, female members. These ladies traded instruments and vocal duties for a song or two but, but they didn’t have much stage presence. Smile, move, do something ladies!

(Yes, that’s the same woman from opening act Dasher on drums. The lone male in the band used to be in my favorite almost-tribute-to-Motorhead-band Chopper.)

Ah, Coathangers. Atlanta’s scrappy, 30 years later answer to The Slits. Punky, sometimes screechy, but with catchy, poppy melodies.

I wasn’t motivated enough to push through the pack of girls that crowded up against the stage, nor did I feel I should’ve put my 6′ tall frame + cowboy hat in the damn way, so I lurked in a corner to catch the show. And a damn fine show it was. Somewhere past the halfway point in their set, they did a Chinese fire drill and swapped instruments from song to song.

They wrapped up with the messy, screechy Leave My Shit Alone, the perfect finale for me. I was beat after a long night of rock, so I didn’t stick around to see if they did an encore.