There are undeniable stylistic similarities shared by the bands that played the Comet last night, but unfortunately there isn’t a convenient name to pin on it. It’s heavy rock, with elements of hardcore, punk, metal, lots of minor chords, and an obvious affinity for the Jesus Lizard, and though there aren’t enough bands out there (yet) that have embraced this specific pissed-off style to warrant an entire genre being named after it, it does exist as it’s own sub-section of the current rock scene, and Adam Superfan did a great job of putting several of these like-minded bands together on the same bill. Seattle’s main export of this sound is Madraso, and though I had seen them three times before I was never as impressed by them as I was last night. They have the amps to blow a room out, and usually they do, but last night they set their rigs just right, giving me the opportunity to actually hear the songs underneath the volume. As they played, I asked Mike Nipper where he thought their sound originated from. I posited that this whole style might have spawned around 1991 based on the emergence of records like JL’s Liar and Jehu’s Yank Crime, and Nipper added that he heard a lot of Richmond, VA band Breadwinner (which after going home and listening to them I completely agree). But Nipper thought it went back further than that, in Madraso’s case specifically to King Crimson’s Red. When I tried to disagree with his assertion he reminded me that he was actually going to these shows in 1991, while I was, well, 8. So I shut my mouth.

Brooklyn’s Made Out of Babies have several good things going for them. For one, they sound even better live than they do on record. Their songs come off much more raw and intense in person than on their polished debut Ruiner. A lot of this is due to the fact that singer Julie Christmas doesn’t rely on vocal effects as I thought she might have, but instead uses them as an accentuation. She, in and of herself, is an invaluable asset for a band. Aside from the fact that she is a tremendous vocalist with a serious ability to scream, she is also attractive and adorable, something that is all too rare in hardcore singers these days (I’m looking at you, Fucked Up). That mix of skill and energy and attractiveness seemed to set off something in the back of my brain which convinced me completely that I had loved this woman for my entire life yet never knew it until now. Although, after their set I was not interested in trying to woo her, but in trying to ask her how often men came up to her at shows to tell her that they were in love. I can only assume she gets hit on by hardcore fanboys nightly. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t stick around in the bar long enough for me to even ask.

Black Elk make me thrash my whole body around, whether I want to or not. Once they get going, if I’m watching and listening, before I know it I’m thrashing. This band sounds unbelievably pissed off. I’ve decided that singer Tom Glose is a mixture of David Yow, Charles Bukowski, and another guy who hates both of those fucking assholes. Black Elk seem to be angry about a completely different set of problems than I have in my life (this is speculation, I don’t know what Glose is actually saying), but even so, they are forceful enough in the articulation of that anger that I empathize with them completely. After maybe 8 songs they called it a set, much to the chagrin of the amped up crowd. Soon people began pelting Glose with empty beer cans and chanting “Bullshit! Bullshit!” I overheard bass player Don Capuano remark sullenly, “We don’t practice enough to play more.” Hmm, could have fooled me. Eventually the band caved and made their way back to the stage for one more blistering song, satiating the small but intense crowd’s lust for blood.