Last Night Apt. #1325 @ Chop Suey
posted by January 8 at 13:11 PMon
Instructions for Enjoying Apt. #1325, Chop Suey’s Brand-New Band-In-Residency Program
1. Arrive early. Wisely for a Monday, last night’s show, featuring a five-band bill, began at 8:30. Following weeks won’t have as many acts to cram in, but each will begin on the early side. Laggish music journos and the like will end up missing good stuff and walking in at the end of someone’s energetic set. When I showed up, Aaron Goldman of Throw Me the Statue was on vocals and electric bass, countered by a drummer, doing some sort yowling lo-fi chant pop. (“That was the anthemic part,” he said after the set, which seemed about right.) Would’ve been nice to see the whole thing.
2. Say hi to Kris K. He’ll probably be sitting at the door asking for your $6 cover. The former Chop Suey booker (who now works at the new Paul Green School of Rock but apparently can’t tear himself away from Croc Suey) came up with the Monday night band residency idea, modeling it after similar series in L.A. K hopes that Apt. #1325 will eventually become a sought-after gig for local bands a la Los Angeles’ Echo, which has hosted a Monday night residency for several years. It’s a good idea, too—a great way to fill the club on an off-night. Last night’s turnout was good for a Monday—75 or so paid. It seems like the longer Apt. #1325 goes on, the more buzz it’ll accrue and the more momentum it’ll gain. What else are you doing on a Monday night?
3. Rock the fuggout to the openers. Or gently sway. Husbands, Love Your Wives was the pre-headliner last night, Jamie Spiess’ now-it’s-fragile, now-it’s-stoic one-woman acoustic show. Her songs burrow deeper, become more personal and subliminal, with repeat exposure. TMTS’ Scott Reitherman sat in on drums, adding percussive punctuation to Spiess’ poetic ballads on love and loss and cake.
4. Rock the fuggout to Throw Me the Statue. (Or whoever the band in residence is.) TMTS started off a bit shakey, sort of like their daytime show at Bop Street last fall, with monitor problems and an odd setup for the band on Chop Suey’s triangular stage. They caught up with themselves about halfway through the 40-minute set. When they hit on all cylinders, they’re unstoppable—boisterous, hook-heavy, rollicking, fun. The band dashes in just the right amounts of weird and familiar. Reitherman’s voice is a flat-ish, baritone-ish, between-registers instrument and he weilds it with sheepish enthusiasm. The rest of the five-piece trades instruments, shares microphones for vocals, pogoes through triumphant choruses, and simmers for low-key verses. They’re a lot of action to watch onstage. There’s still room to grow for this TMTS, which is more exciting than if they were perfectly polished.
5. Don’t do tequila shots with the band after their set. Or with their publicist. Or with anyone for that matter. It’s Monday night after all and you have work tomorrow.