Last Night Sunday Bloody Sunset
posted by February 18 at 12:25 PMon
There was old Van Halen footage playing on the screen hanging in front of the stage when I walked into the Sunset. Jimmy Flame & the Sexxy Boys were setting up behind it, strumming the guitars and banging the bass drum for soundcheck. The room was far from packed, but about an hour into the first installment of Sunday Bloody Sunset there was still a big enough crowd to fill every seat and barstool in the room and keep the bartender busy.
The Sunset was decorated for a party—red balloons were hung up on the walls and scattered across the floor. People kicked them out of the way as they made their way from the stage to the bar and back. There were little piles of colorful streamers from those bottle poppers stuck to the carpet, and the host, Johnny Skolfuk (I think it was Johnny), was running around in light up glasses almost as cool as Kanye’s at the Grammy’s.
Jimmy Flame play straight ahead rock and roll—think AC/DC, Kiss, anything with guitar solos and attitude. They sound good for what they do, but my only complaint is that they don’t move enough. When a band’s playing balls to the wall rock anthems, I wanna see some dancing and some shaking. I want to see ridiculous faces during guitar solos and synchronized moves during drum breakdowns. Jimmy Flame didn’t have much of that at all. But then, about three songs in, I found out why. During a guitar solo Jimmy passionately fell to his knees… and unplugged his guitar. Short cord syndrome. Gotta work on that.
Next up, after a brief intermission of nothing, was Thee Sgt. Major III. They were exactly what I didn’t know I needed to hear on Sunday afternoon—loud power pop with strong male/female harmonies and killer drumming by way of Mike Musburger (of the Posies). Kurt Bloch was on guitar and he played the whole set in a sport coat and ruffled tuxedo shirt. Leslie Beattie and Bill Coury’s harmonies were like Matt Sharp and Petra Hayden on a good day, but Bloch’s guitar-shredding was much more enthusiastic than the Rentals’ could ever be.
The band was having so much fun on stage—the crowd watching them was full of smiles. They clapped and shook tambourines (even threw one out to the audience)—it was explosive energy from note one. During their whole set, they also made mentions of the mystery guest still yet to play. Someone suggested that it was going to be Zeke. With Kurt Bloch already there, I wondered if it’d be the Fastbacks. I scanned the crowd throughout the show, looking for the presence of rockstars who might give it away, but recognized no one, and continued to enjoy Thee Sgt. Major III’s set.
When they finished, the crowd begged for more. I was more excited for who’d be coming up next, though. For about 10 minutes, nothing happened—no one came out to tear down the stage, no one showed up with guitars or drums or keyboards… turns out, there was no mystery guest. With that, Sunday Bloody Sunset’s kick-off party ended on an anti-climactic note.
But they did have donuts. And donuts are delicious.